Page 58 of Shattered Hearts

“It’s not just her. Lots of people don’t remember details because they don’t think they’ll need them later. Are the cops looking into it?”

“No. She hasn’t been missing long enough for them to bother. You should know that.”

“I do, but I thought since she was connected to Zarah—”

“I don’t get favors, and you should know that, too.”

“You should be the hero of King’s Crossing for the slime you helped put away.”

There’s a shuffling and liquid poured into a glass. It sounds like I caught Zane working.

“Are you naïve or just stupid?” He laughs, but it’s a bitter sound.

“Neither. Looking for the good in people hasn’t been hammered out of me yet.”

“Better find yourself a different city, then. Someplacemaybethe Blacks haven’t touched.”

“I don’t run.”

He grunts and sips his drink.

“Can you send me Ingrid’s personal information? If the cops won’t, I’ll start looking into it. I’m not bad at finding people.”

“Even if they don’t want to be found?”

“Especially if they don’t want to be found. Could be she’s just pissy you fired her.”

“I hope for Z’s sake that’s all it is. She feels guilty we let her go.”

“Yeah, well. Nothing lasts forever except death and taxes. Zarah was going to get better sooner or later. Too bad for Ingrid it happened sooner than she hoped.”

“It’s possible someone picked her up, thought he could get some information out of her.”

I scoff, but my blood turns icy. Pop said something similar. “Like what? What Zarah eats for breakfast?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Did you have her sign an NDA?”

“Yeah. I’ll send it with the other stuff. Tomorrow early enough? I’ll have a courier drop it off at your office. I was just about to head to bed.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I pause. I want to say something—like I’ll never hurt Zarah, or I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep her safe. They’re only words though, and feelings should be shown by action. Zane won’t believe me if I keep getting his sister almost blown up by car bombs.

Zane fills the space, more in tune than I give him credit for. “You, too.” He hangs up, just a beep on my end and thennothing. My home screen flashes, a pretty picture of Baby lying in the grass in a park somewhere.

The conversation didn’t help me calm down, and I grab Max’s journal and settle on the couch. I page through it, hoping something will jump out at me, but nothing much does. Nothing I want to see, I should say. He was in love with Zarah. I mean, down on his knees, making any promise known to man and God, praying that everything would work out so they could be together.

It’s unsettling to read so much emotion about a woman that I, too, have fallen so deeply in love with that the thought of living without her sends me to the same woods where Troy and Meredith took their lives today.

I wonder how Zane feels. He and Max were good friends. Maybe he hoped Max and Zarah would get together and I’m second place in his eyes. Max was respectable, honorable.

I hate comparing myself to my brother. I never win.

It’s why I stopped talking to him. It was always a competition, but a contest I created on my own. Never thought I had a self-esteem issue until I realized if Zarah had to choose between Max and me, I would lose.

Huffing a frustrated sigh, I move to close the Moleskin journal, but something catches my eye. When Zarah had her breakdown and was admitted to Quiet Meadows, it belonged to someone else. Black bought it to keep everything in his pocket, and it worked for a long time. No one questioned whom he bought it from, or why that person owned it in the first place.

Maybe it’s nothing. Since the night of the fundraiser at his mansion, he hasn’t come up in the media at all. He resigned his position, too humiliated to finish out his term.

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