Page 74 of All the Missing Pieces

“We’re going to find him,” I promised.

“I know,” Ridley said, voice going quiet. “And he’s going to pay foreverythinghe’s done.”

Thateverythingcarried weight. The weight of Emerson. Of the other victims.

Ridley pushed her chair back and took her plate to the sink. “You have the keys to my van?”

Shit.I didn’t want her in that vehicle right now. It was all but destroyed on the inside. One more assault to add to the list.

“Don’t you think you should lie down now? Rest a little?”

She sent me a pointed glare as she grabbed my plate and rinsed it too. “I know what I can handle and what I can’t. Keys please.”

Hell.I pushed up, crossing to a key rack by the back door. There was one of those Magic 8 balls as the key ring. I tossed them Ridley’s way, and she caught them easily, heading for the front door.

Bowser followed after her, abandoning his breakfast. If he was neglecting his food for the woman, he was more than half in love—he was sunk. The poor bastard.

But I followed them both, just falling in line with that fool’s path. Bowser sniffed the morning air and found a spot to do his business. Ridley was already at her brightly colored vehicle. She stood there a moment before unlocking the door, bracing herself. Then in one swift move, she slid the door open.

The breath she sucked in was audible. Her gaze passed over the entire space. Papers strewn about, desktop monitor cracked, chair upended, dishes smashed, couch cushions sliced, and stuffing everywhere.

I couldn’t help but move closer as if there were something I could do to ease the agony of Ridley’s safe space being decimated. I knew there wasn’t, but still I spoke. “I’m sorry, Chaos.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Me too. Me. Fucking. Too.”

Then she stepped up and into the van. I didn’t miss the wince or the way her hand went to her side.

“Ridley. There’ll be time to fix this later.”

She sent me a look that had my mouth snapping shut. “I don’t need another parent trying to control me. I know what I can handle.”

Guilt swept through me. Her independent streak made a hell of a lot more sense now that I knew about her parents. Her mother’s need for control had nearly strangled her in a whole different way.

“All right,” I acquiesced. “What can I do?”

“Can you get me some garbage bags?” Ridley looked around the trashed van. “A lot of them?”

“Be right back.” I turned and strode back to the house but gave Bowser a motion to stay with Ridley. He might have been old, but he was a good early-warning system.

I grabbed an unopened box of trash bags from the pantry and hurried back outside. Bowser lay in the grass, watching Ridley intently as she pawed through things.

“Here you go,” I said, setting the bags just inside the van.

Ridley kept right on moving, searching. “Did your techs take the yearbooks?”

“Yearbooks?” My brows pulled together. “No. They didn’t keep any items, just fingerprinted.”

Ridley cursed, then slowly turned to me. “He didn’t just take my laptop. He took the yearbooks and Emerson’s case file too.”

30

RIDLEY

“Overprotective grumpy pants,”I muttered as I tossed a shard of one of my favorite dishes into a trash can I’d lined with my thirteenth trash bag.

Bowser’s ears twitched in response.

“Not you,” I assured the pup. “You’re perfect.”

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