Page 92 of Triple Trouble

Nathan.

“I knew you’d come,” he said with a cold smile.

45

XAVIER

When I couldn’t find Emma in the apartment upstairs, I assumed she must have been in the gym. I went back downstairs, not too worried until I descended the second set of stairs into the basement and she wasn’t there, either.

Where the hell was she?

I went back up, pausing to poke my head into the studio, only to find Jackson still working and Adrian looking quizzically at me.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “You look lost.”

“Nothing,” I said, not wanting to alarm him unless I had a solid reason, and went back upstairs, where I switched on the television and brought up the cameras so I could see them all in a grid.

Emma was nowhere to be found. And worst of all, her car was missing.

“Shit.”

I sprinted back down the stairs.

“Emma’s gone,” I said. Jackson stopped tattooing and Adrian sprung to his feet.

“What?” Adrian asked. “But she was just here!” He looked back to the reception desk as though I hadn’t already thought of that.

“I know, but she’s gone,” I said. “She’s taken her car. She wanted me to drive her to Cora’s house, so maybe she’s there.”

Jackson looked thoughtful.

“That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong,” he said. “We haven’t heard anything from Nathan in ages — maybe he’s lost interest in her. Maybe he has a new girlfriend to harass.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, unable to ignore my feeling of dread. “We should check it out.”

The other two looked at each other, and I could tell they were unsure whether to take my panic seriously.

“Emma didn’t say she was in trouble?” Jackson asked, and I shook my head.

“She just asked me to drive her to Cora’s house,” I said, as I replayed the conversation in my mind. What if I’d forgotten some detail, or some word, that might have changed the meaning of what she’d said? I was busy and distracted, so it was possible.

“I’ll call her,” Adrian said. He picked up the phone and dialed her number, then hung up and gave me a confused frown. “She didn’t answer.”

“I don’t like this,” I said. “I don’t like this at all.”

I took the phone from Adrian and called the emergency number.

“Hello? Police? I’d like to report a missing person?”

The operator was kind and friendly, asking me a lot of questions that I answered as best I could.

“I’m sorry,” she said, in the same sweet tone of voice. “I’ll pass those details on, but there’s not much we can do until we have a specific threat.”

“Her ex has been stalking her,” I said. “I’m worried he’s going to hurt her.”

“I’m sorry,” the operator repeated. “But until there’s a direct threat or indication of harm, there’s not much we can do. Please call back if you haven’t heard from her within twenty-four hours.”

I hung up the phone and scowled.

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