Page 109 of Bombshell

Again.

My knees buckle, and before I can stop it, I vomit on the floor.

Sterling is by my side, a hand on my back. “The police are on their way,” he says, “and they will help us find her. The bear missing is actually a good thing.”

I turn watering eyes on him. How can any of this be a good thing? How can he stand there and calmly expect the police to find her?

“If the bear’s gone, she grabbed it,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “If someone snatched her, she probably wouldn’t have been awake or had time. Either whoever has her knows she’d want the bear or Ellie took it with her. Maybe she’s hiding? This is a big house.”

I force myself to consider this. Malcolm and Ginny may have looked, but judging from the state of the house, they hadn’t been tearing things apart. Her room is still neat and organized. There were no signs of struggle downstairs. The only evidence that she’s missing is an empty bed and panicked parents.

“We’re going to keep looking,” Sterling says firmly, like we’re just tackling a to-do list.

“And if we find her? They’ll take her again,” I shout, finally losing it. “They’ll point the finger, and they’ll drag up dirt. They’ll say we had something to do with it.”

“Exactly,” Sterling says in a lowered voice as if he suspects the walls are listening. “It’s all a bit convenient, especially after what happened to you this afternoon.”

“I just want to find her,” I say desperately. “I don’t even care if I never get to see her again. If she’s safe…”

Sterling kisses my forehead, before tilting my chin so our eyes meet. “I swear on my life that nothing will happen to her. I won’t allow it.” He steps away. “Where would you go if you were hiding?”

“She can’t be hiding.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Don’t think rationally. Think like a four year-old. Where would you have hidden?”

I hate dredging up memories of my childhood—too often, I discover landmines after I’ve stepped on one. In the end, the answer is easy. “I usually left the house.”

Sterling looks like he wants to ask why, but stops himself.

“It was scary inside the house. Daddy was on a rampage, drunk,” I add, the chill of unpleasant memories slithering up my spine. “I always felt safer outside. But if they checked the cameras, they should have seen her.”

Sterling’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak. “Do you remember your birthday party? All those years ago?”

“It was pretty unforgettable,” I say flatly. Even thoughts of how miserable that night turned out can’t distract me from my purpose here tonight, though. “What does that have to do with Ellie?”

“You knew where all the cameras were,” he says. “You knew how to avoid them. A well-honed survival instinct.”

“Ellie wouldn’t know that. She’s only—” I protest.

“I agree, but everyone else in this house knows where the cameras are, right?”

“What are you saying?” I ask, unable to process what he’s alluding to. I can see it, but it’s just far enough away that the details are too blurry to make out.

“Keep an eye on all of them. All of them,” he says.

We wind our way back downstairs quickly to find Ginny and Malcolm talking in hushed voices.

“Where was the security guard?” Sterling asks, and they startle apart.

“What are you talking about?” Malcolm asks, storming to the base of the stairs.

“There’s no one at the gate. It’s wide open.”

Malcolm’s eyes pop at this information.

Sterling’s head shifts ever so slightly, confusion clouding his eyes before shifting back to business. “We’re going to search the grounds,” he says. “I think you should help.”

“We’re waiting for the police,” Ginny says. “They’ll look.”