“Mila, it's a myth. Let me sleep.”
“I can’t let you sleep. When I snuck in here, I had no idea you had a concussion. I came to tell you something, and after all of this, I don’t think I have much more time.”
“What did you need to tell me?” I tried to drum up more interest. I knew I should be interested.
“This is the house Mason grew up in.” Her hands patted my cheeks again.
“I figured that out from the shit in the boxes,” I mumbled, undoubtedly falling asleep as she accused.
“But it’s not his dad holding us hostage. I don’t even think his dad is alive, Claire.”
My eyes shot open to see her face, “Who is it then?”
“I don't know, and he won't tell me his name, but Claire, be careful. He's a sick bastard.” She kissed me on the forehead. “I'm sorry I was going to leave without saying anything. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you now. I need to get us out of here. Sleep while you can because it won't be good when he comes for you. I’m hoping I can get us out beforethathappens.”
“Can you get us out of here?”
She smiled, the light catching her blue eyes, “Not yet, but I'm working on it.” She left the room, locking the door behind her. I wanted to yell for her to come back, but I was too tired and knew she couldn't get caught.
Chapter 22
Mason
Thirty-sixhours.Ithadbeen thirty-six hours since the woman I loved was taken from me. I sat in the breakfast nook with my empty cup of coffee in front of me. I stared at Claire's usual seat, aching to have her beside me. I wasn't in the best shape, running off caffeine and single-minded determination. I was only sitting at all because I hadn't eaten in long enough to genuinely be concerned about passing out.
Aside from the two hours I slept early that morning, I had been awake all that time. I regretted the nap more than anything. It would have been better to keep pushing through rather than face the torture of my dreams. Visions of Claire's sweet smile and the sound of her laughter filled my head, turning my subconscious into a fantasy and then hell. I felt her in my arms, safe and sound, only to realize she was gone. I chased her intonothinguntilIwas nothing.
The few moments of dreamless sleep I managed brought me no rest, only a deep self-hatred. How could I forget her for even a moment? What if she was screaming in pain, and I was blissfully and painlessly asleep?
Rochelle stepped beside me and poured me another cup of coffee, “Mr. Dubois, let me make you a proper breakfast.”
“Just grab me a protein bar and a banana.Please, Rochelle,” I tacked the pleasantry on when I realized I was being an asshole. I didn’t mean to snap at her, but I didn’t want to enjoy myself in any way. Why did I deserve anything other than suffering? I didn’t.
I also didn’t realize Rochelle was gone for way too long to be preparing the breakfast I requested. She returned with an omelet and the home fries she knew I liked.
“Rochelle,”
She put the plate on the table. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Dubois, but we're all out of both protein bars and bananas. I had no choice but to make you a suitable breakfast for a tall man with an important job to do. Or did you think you were the only one worried over your wife?”
I swallowed hard, thoroughly chastised, and dug into my food. I felt better after eating, mostly because I hadn't enjoyed the food despite how good it tasted. The greatest pleasures in life were a chore without her. A text came through on my phone, and I jumped. Crushing hope filled my chest, then popped me like a balloon when I saw what James had to say.
James: Still nothing, but I’m pretty sure you’re right. Your dad is in the country.
I hadn't seen James more than twice in the last day. His text updates came regularly, informing me of what he and the temporary tech guy found–not much.
Me: Any firm leads on his location?
James: You’ll know the moment I do.
I closed the phone and put it back in my pocket, getting ready to find Victor so we could head back out. He and I pounded the streets relentlessly, chasing down every dead-end lead that came our way. I hoped he had managed a bit more sleep than I did. We needed one of us to get some real rest.
With the amount of money I offered for information on her whereabouts,manypeople were desperate to get their hands on it. I prayed to a God I'd never spoken to that one of those tips would save her rather than being the thing that wasted our time and ended her life.
I had lost count of the times I castigated myself for all my mistakes, but none of my recriminations brought me closer to her. Each sliver of information felt more like a taunt than assistance. There was nothing concrete, nothing solid. My father was like a ghost. And Daniel? It was as if the man never existed at all. His architectural firm was closed up without a hint of unfinished business. After months of effort, I still hadn't entirely managed that in my legal practice. If it weren't for the buildings I knew he built, I might not have any proof the man existed.
I had nothing to grab hold of, nothing to swing at, and the feeling of powerlessness made me nearly insane. I called Claire's dead phone for the hundredth time, just to hear the sound of her voice.
“Hi, This is ClaireSharp. Please leave a message.” I didn't know she had changed her name in her outgoing message, and when I heard it for the first time… Well, there aren't any words to describe what I felt. I had left so many voicemails since then, promising to find her, telling her I was looking for her. If I managed to get her back, I would have to delete them before she had a chance to understand how pathetically meaningless my life was without her; none of that mattered.