Page 84 of The Thinnest Air
“I can at least check,” I say, rising and slipping my bag over my shoulder.
“Sit. Down.” His jaw clenches.
“What’s with you today?” I ask, forcing myself to chuckle.
Ronan shoots me a look before shaking his head. “I’m tired. You had me fly across the country—literally fly across the country—to search an empty cabin.”
Exhaling, I nod. “I’m sorry. I really thought—”
“It’s fine.” His jaw hollows. “Just want to get home so I can keep looking for her.”
For a second, I bask in the genuine concern on his face and the logical explanation that he’s just as tired and frustrated as I am. But Andrew’s words echo in my mind, and I’m forced to remove my rose-tinted glasses.
“Hey, what was the name of that stalker?” I ask. I realize my question is out of the blue, but if I can maybe gauge his reaction, I can get an idea of whether or not Andrew’s bombshell has any merit.
Ronan’s gaze snaps onto mine. “Why would you ask me that?”
I shrug. “I was just thinking, when we get back, I really want to look into the stalker. Maybe he had something to do with this?”
“You don’t think they’ve already checked into that?” He huffs, shaking his head like I’m some kind of idiot.
“I’m sure they have,” I say. “But you never know. It doesn’t hurt to double-check. Do you remember his name?”
His lips press together, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers forming a peak as he stares ahead. “That was a really long time ago. I’d have to look it up.”
“Were there charges? It’d be a matter of public record, right?” I grab my phone. “I could check online.”
A woman’s voice plays over the speaker, indicating the commencement of the boarding process. Ronan stands, his back toward me. His section is called first, and he disappears into a line of travelers.
He’s supposed to be my ride back to Glacier Park, but if he’s guilty, if he did this, he’s got the next several hours to figure out that I’m beginning to suspect him now more than ever.
I shouldn’t have pushed so much about the stalker case. I can’t tip him off if I want to find Meredith. If I do, he’ll move her. And then we’ll truly never find her. She’ll be gone. Forever.
But maybe she’s already gone.
If Ronan took her ...
If he flew to Vermont and left her alone ...
Who’s taking care of her?
CHAPTER 39
MEREDITH
Seven Days Ago
The pillowcase beneath my damp head has turned cold from my wet hair, and the distinct scent of Ivory soap emanates from my skin. My body is covered in a white nightgown, my wrists and ankles secured to bedposts. He must have bathed me while I was unconscious. The thought of his hands touching my body, exploring every piece of me while I lie helpless, sends a rush of bile up my throat.
The room is dark, with only the crack of light shining around a door to offer a shadowy depiction of my surroundings.
Andrew’s face fills my mind. I think of him warm in our bed, wondering how he’s holding up. He’s always so stoic, so serious. I bet he’s keeping up a front, and I’ll bet people are going to suspect him for it, blame him for not caring, but he’s never been good with handling negative emotions. He prefers to skirt around them when at all possible, focus on the good, the things he can control. His image. His reputation. The success of his business.
The door swings open with a soft creak, as if Ronan didn’t want to wake me. I watch with bated breath as he stands at the foot of the bed, his stare weighing heavy on my body. A moment later, he takes a seat beside me, peeling back my covers. The nightgown is thin and damp from my skin, sending a chill when it meets the cold night air.
I realize then that I don’t know if it’s night. I don’t know what day it is or what time of day it is for that matter.
Everything’s dark.
