“Yes, I am.”
"I've been thinking about the crazed fan idea, and I don't buy it, not with the scarf."
"They could be unrelated, though." I shrug.
“I thought about that, and I’m not willing to rule anything out at the moment.”
I hand him a cup of coffee, and we settle at the kitchen island. "What I cannot figure out is why Chelsea, if this has something to do with me. Wouldn't my family be a more likely target?" I furrow my brows. "God forbid," I say quickly. The cup I hold helps with the chill that runs through me at the thought of my children or Cohen being a target.
“It’s what confuses me too.” He strokes his short beard.
"Detective - I mean, Creed, is it likely that Chelsea will be found? I mean, we know the stats. You live it, I research it. I just - I don't know what I'll do if something happens to her because of me." I struggle to swallow down the lump in my throat.
He reaches over and places a hand on mine, gently squeezing. “We’re doing all we can, but it’s like she disappeared without a trace.”
He clears his throat, pulling his hands away, realizing he may have crossed some invisible boundary. "Thanks for the coffee," he says, downing the last bit. "I'll be in touch. You have my number. Call me if you hear anything else."
"Thanks, Creed." I meet his gaze. He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. I walk him out and watch until he disappears in his vehicle. I wish Chelsea was here. We'd be gawking over the sexy detective, profiling him for one of my novels.
Since her disappearance, I haven't been able to find the words. I sit in front of my laptop, typing and deleting, retyping, and coming up with nothing.
How do you go on with life when there is so much uncertainty? I think about Kurt and realize I haven’t even seen him since the day Jameson and Willis gave me the news.
I scroll through my phone till I find his number.
Me: Can we talk?
K: Yeah, sure.
Me: The bookstore at 1pm?
K: See you there.
I know it's weird, but the bookstore makes me feel closer to her. Bronwyn has been great, running the place, but I check in every now and then. Make sure that everything is alright. Kurt doesn't seem to mind. He's thrown himself into work from what Cohen says. I don't blame him.
I walk into the bookstore, and Bronwyn smiles at me sadly. We have a comfortable rule that we don't speak about Chelsea, and it seems to work for us. I grab a seat at my usual table with my Starbucks. I set a second cup down for Kurt. A few minutes before one, Kurt walks into the store. He waves at Bronwyn and makes his way over to my table when he spots me. He's a tall, gangly guy with too much brain and too little brawn. He looks tired, his shoulders slumped. He's handsome in a Benedict Cumberbatch kind of way. Far too stoic for my taste.
"Hey, Sinclair," he greets. He's always insisted on calling me by my full name. Up close, I notice the dark bags around his eyes, a clear indication that he hasn't been sleeping well.
“Hi, Kurt. Please sit down. I ordered you a latte, I wasn’t sure about the kind you like.”
“That’s kind of you. Thank you.” He takes a sip of his drink, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He’s strung out from too much caffeine to make up for the lack of sleep.
"How've you been, really?" I ask, trying to maintain eye contact, which is proving difficult since he refuses to meet my gaze.
"Hard. I just don't get it. C's been gone for two weeks, and the police have no leads. It's like she vanished out of sight. The surveillance at the Wharf was a bust, so there is no footage. CCTV hasn't brought about anything useful. It's such a busy stretch, big on tourists, you know…" He trails off.
“They’ll find her.” I try to say what I think he needs to hear, knowing full well I have no confidence in my words. “Hold onto all those exciting plans you had, Kurt.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Plans?”
“Yes, the big move.” I take a sip of my coffee.
“I don’t know what you mean? I asked Chels to move in with me, but she turned me down. Said we needed to take things slow.”
I crease my brow. "I must have misunderstood," I say lightly. But inside, I am confused as hell. That is not what my friend told me. She was thrilled to start a life with the man sitting in front of me.
"I really love her, you know. She's been distant in the last couple of months. We got off on a great start. She'd come with me on trips. I really thought we had a good thing, but she started pulling away."
