Page 40 of Riptide
"Tomorrow,hopefully. She's been out sick a lot lately." Concern crossed the receptionist's face. "She hasn't been herself for a while now. We're all a little worried about her."
"I'msorry to hear that. I'll try reaching her at home. Thanks."
She foundWade waiting on a bench across the street, two bottles of water in hand.
"Not there,"she said.
"Figured."He handed her a bottle. “Drink. Dehydrated brains don’t work well.”
She clutched the cold bottle.“How can you possibly––“
"Drink the water, Cara.” His tone left no room for argument.
She drank. He was probably right.
“What next?”He asked.
Cara wiped her mouth. "We check her apartment."
The condo complexwas newer construction, all sleek lines. Upper middle class. Comfortable. The life Jessica had built before Blaire destroyed it.
They buzzed apartment 3C.
No answer.
Cara tried again.Still nothing.
"She's not home,"Wade said.
"Or she's not answering."
"We're not breaking in.Not yet."
Cara bit back a smile.He knew her too well already. “Fine.” She headed back toward the car.
He jogged after her."So what's the play?"
"We call her."Cara pulled out her phone. "Tom got her number. I'll try that."
She dialed.
The phone rang.Once. Twice. Three times.
Voicemail.
"Jessica,my name is Cara. I need to talk to you about what happened to your brother. Please call me back." She left her number and disconnected.
"So we wait,"Wade said.
They walked backto the car. Portland stretched around them, gray and indifferent.
They drove backtoward Haven Cove in silence, rain hammering on the windshield.
Not exactly theprogress they'd hoped for.
But Cara had learned:sometimes survival meant taking whatever small wins you could get.
She just hadto hope they'd get that chance before Blaire came back.
