He laughed without mirth. There perhaps had never been a series of circumstances as damning as the one in which he’d placed himself. His plan was working against him. Sanders had gone running, not him. And yet, somehow, Dayton was being sized up as the guilty party.
No aspect of his behavior was doing him any favors, neither the pacing nor the chasing rabbit holes. He had to get out of his house. Out of his mind.
Thumbing the two sets of keys in his pocket, he drew in a steadying breath and set out for Kenna’s place.
* * *
Dayton spotted the Caprice as soon as he rounded the corner into the apartment complex parking lot.
Cutting the engine, he sat in silence, fixated on the stairs leading up to her shared unit. The station wagon’s presence didn’t mean she was there. Though, her robin’s egg bike was chained up in its usual place as well and that seemed indicative of her presence.
His chest rose and fell as he idled in the driver’s seat, the tranquility of his breath belying his inner panic.
In a surge of motion his hazy brain couldn’t quite keep pace with, he was out of the car and climbing the stairs. Dayton raised a tight, confident fist and rapped on the door.
No response came and several impatient moments elapsed before he tried again. After three attempts, it became clear no one was home. He tore the keys out of his pocket and in one criminal twist found himself inside.
“Kenna?” he called out.
He was certain she wasn’t there, but preferred to eliminate the chance that Liza was holed up in her room and had somehow not heard the earnest knocking.
The bathroom door, as well as the doors to both bedrooms, were all either halfway or wide open. All of the lights were off and the day’s waning light streamed in through the eyelets of the plastic blinds. Momentarily, Dayton debated showing himself out. He had already committed so many wrongs.
What was one more?
Kenna’s bedroom was nearest to the living room. This he knew only because she’d ducked in there to charge her phone during one of his infrequent visits.
His hand crept across the wall until it met the switch plate and light flooded the small space. Clothes littered the bed and floor. The closet door, ajar. It looked as if someone had ransacked the room in pursuit of valuables. A futile mission in the dwelling of broke college students.
Her laptop was open on her desk, its screen blackened. Dayton pushed the power button and was immediately greeted with her most recent activity. A confirmation for a Greyhound ticket. To Los Angeles.
The display turned his stomach, twisting and twisting until it sank and was just as swiftly replaced by a feeling of emptiness. Kenna’s having left had not conjured the visceral reaction but rather the implication packed into her destination.
Who she had gone to meet.
A quiet rage welled within as he shut the laptop in one fluid motion. Carmen must have said something to her. There was no other explanation, no—
Dayton stilled his breathing. The front door opened.
“Kenna?” another voice called out.
Liza.
He pushed back from the desk with a nonchalance that suggested he lived there and had not let himself in with a conveniently misplaced set of keys.
There was a smacking sound in the other room.
“Oh my God. We havenofood in the fridge. Didn’t you get back a couple of days ago? What have you been eating? You’ve probably been with what’s-his-face, anyway, haven’t you?” The fridge closed. Liza spoke a little louder. “Hey, Ace? Do you have earbuds in or something?”
Her eyes stretched wider, rounder as they met Dayton standing in the mouth of the hallway. She had every right to be shocked. A man she could hardly call an acquaintance was inside her apartment. But as he studied those eyes, golden brown like whiskey, he saw a weak glint of fear.
Hand flying to her chest, Liza exhaled.
“You scared me.” When he made no apology, she glanced past him. “Is Kenna here?”
“No. She’s out of town.”
The spark of fear roared to embers as her brows drew together and an awkward pause hung between them.