Page 122 of All the Missing Pieces

“I don’t know about that. But I’m going to try to do better. And the first part of that is standing with you while you tell your story. Because doing that is going to touch people. It’s going to help some of them feel not so alone because of what’s happened to them. It’s going to inspire others to help solve this case. It’s going to be fucking hard, but it’s also going to be worth it. And Iknowyou can do it.”

She flew at me then, her slight body colliding with mine as she held on with all her might. “I love you too, Colt. This is all I’ve ever needed. Just knowing you’re with me.”

“Always, Shortcake.”

“I hope this means you pulled your head out of your ass,” Trey called from the entryway to the living room.

Emerson released me and sent him a smile as she wiped the remnants of her tears away. “We’re good.”

Trey arched a brow at me. “What about your girl? You fuck that up?”

I flipped him off. “We’re good too. Better than. She was just giving Em and me a moment.”

I glanced out the big picture window toward the garden. I had to move closer to it to see where she was, but when I did, there was no one. Not a single soul in that garden or the forest around it that I could see.

Panic hit hard and fast, but I tried to breathe through it. There were a million explanations. She’d walked into the woods or around the front of the house.

But I was already moving, storming through the kitchen and out the back door as Trey yelled my name. My pace picked up to a jog as I hit the deck, my head on a swivel. But there was no sign of her anywhere.

That panic dug in, holding my lungs hostage and making them burn, and then I was running. I headed straight for the spot in the back garden. The one where Ridley had told me she loved me.

My Chaos.

The only one who would tell me she loved me in the worst and best moment of my life. But she wasn’t there either. I scanned the area with new eyes. Assessing ones, slipping into law-enforcement mode.

My gaze caught on it then. The disruption of earth in two lines. Drag marks.

Everything in me seized, but I didn’t move. I crouched, taking them in and froze.

“What the hell is going on?” Trey demanded, slightly out of breath from running after me.

“Her phone,” I croaked, not able to look away.

I felt Trey lean over me then, trying to see what I did. His hand landed on my shoulder, then convulsed in a death grip. “Is that blood?”

49

RIDLEY

Wavesof hot and cold battled through me, one taking hold and then getting washed away by the other. I groaned, trying to roll to my side.Do I have the flu?I hated being sick. Especially when said sickness included a fever.

As I moved, white-hot pain speared through me. I wanted to scream, to cry out, but the only sound that came was a sluggish moan. I shifted to my back, and the pain eased a fraction, but an intense burning still radiated from my side.

What the hell happened?

My eyelids fluttered, their movement scraping against eyes that felt far too dry. It was only light and shape and color at first. Nothing made sense.

Then my surroundings began to compute. The room was dark. Not completely, but shades were drawn, and only a small desk lamp illuminated the space.

My brows pulled together in an almost painful contraction. I was on a hard floor, and nothing around me was familiar. There was a desk and bench seating behind it on the opposite side. But everything was incredibly narrow. And up ahead were two captain’s chairs, a steering wheel, and a covered windshield.

An RV?

My gaze flipped to the other side, and I was greeted with a kitchen and small dinette. Past it was a small hallway with three closed doors. My mouth went dry as my heart pounded against my ribs.

None of this was familiar.

I frantically searched my memory for the last thing I could grab hold of. Emerson’s house. The podcast interview. Telling Colt I loved him in the garden, and then?—

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