Page 220 of Gabriel
I slam my fist down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the room. “He’s out,” I snarl at the rent-a-cop behind the desk. “The asshole who tried to kill her only a few weeks ago is out there.” I wave my arm wildly toward the entrance. “And on the day he’s released, Cecilia’s nowhere to be found. That doesn’t strike you as suspicious? This isn’t a coincidence. He has her. Holt?—”
The officer heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Look, kid, as I’ve already mentioned, Mr. Holt’s whereabouts have been determined. He’s under strict house arrest until his trial?—”
“Then he has her in his home,” I interject. “He probably has her chained to the floor in some creepy fucker dungeon in that mansion he calls a house. Did you check? Like, with your eyes?” He rests his hand on his holster, and I force myself to take a breath. Fuck. This asshole is going to kick me out of here if I don’t calm down. Or worse, arrest me for making a scene. And then where would I be?
With more restraint than I realize I’m capable of, I lower my voice and grind out, “Do you know for a fact he’s home and that she isn’t in there with him?”
The officer huffs, his patience running on fumes. “Sir?—”
Goddammit! It’s that fucking tone. That ‘you’re overreacting and wasting my time, kid,’ tone.
“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”
His scowl deepens, irritation flickering in his beady eyes.
Fuck him.My patience ran out over an hour ago.
Reaching beneath the counter, he pulls out a form and shoves it across the desk to me. “You know what, kid?” he snaps. “Here. Have at it.”
My gaze drops to the paperwork, my eyes skimming over the text.
“Once twenty-four hours have passed, you can file a missing person’s report.” He glowers. “This will help you get a head start on the paperwork. You can turn it in once twenty-four hours have passed, not a minute before.”
My nostrils flare, and my fingers curl around the papers.
Fuck this guy and his fucking form. This isn’t going to help me find her.
“You and the girl both attend PacNorth, right?”
I nod, barely holding back my fury. I cannot lunge across this counter. I cannot punch thispendejoin the face. Cecilia needs me right now, and I cannot—under any circumstance—get myself arrested.
“She’s probably with her girlfriends or at one of those fraternity parties you kids are always excited about. I’m sure your friend will turn up, and you won’t even need the paperwork.”
Grinding my teeth, I fight to rein in my temper. “What about the whole bit where every minute counts in a missing person’s case? The first forty-eight hours are crucial, and if we wait?—”
“That only applies if the individual is missing.”
She is missing! I want to scream.
Fuck this. I’m getting nowhere.
“Thanks for nothing,” I snap, grabbing the paper from the countertop and storming outside where the rest of the guys are waiting for me.
Felix pushes off the hood of his car, his face tense with worry as soon as I shove through the glass doors. “What’d they say?” he hollers.
Jaw tight, I stride toward him. “They won’t look for her. It hasn’t been long enough since we last saw her, and theydon’t think she’s actually missing. The asshole had the nerve to suggest she’s out partying right now.”
“That’s bullshit,” Atticus exclaims, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Cecilia wouldn’t be caught dead at a party.”
“I know.” I fold the missing person’s form and slide it into my back pocket before accepting the helmet Julio holds out for me.
“So, if the cops won’t help, what’s the plan?” Julio asks, his expression grim.
“I don’t know.” I tighten my grip on the helmet. The weight of the last 24 hours crashes down on me. What was I thinking? Going off on her like that. I was mean to her.
Nah. My mouth twists thinking about the words I said. “Mean” is being too generous. What I really was is cruel. I told her shit between us is over when it isn’t. I lashed out and knew how hard each verbal blow would land. Cecilia didn’t deserve that. And now she’s MIA, all because of me.
I hang my head as a fresh wave of shame settles over me. I was just so fucking angry. Seeing the way my mom looked at me—the way she rejected my very existence in her life … It hurt. But that’s not an excuse. I let family shit get in my head, and I took it out on someone I care about. I fucked up. So what if Mom wants nothing to do with me? It’s been like that for a while now. Ever since my twin’s death. I should be used to it by now. I might not have predicted how shitty her rejection would feel, but I knew, deep down, she didn’t want me there. That the invitation had to be some sort of fluke. A mistake. And then I went and made an already shitty night shittier by blaming Cecilia. By lashing out and pushing the one woman who actually gives a damn about me away.
