Page 103 of Choosing Us

I can’t lead us in analyzing Graham—I thought we were friendly acquaintances. I never suspected him, not once, of anything other than being a little socially awkward, which in my world is beyond typical.

“His … his mother is dead,” I say as the memory comes rushing back.

“Are you sure?” Tara asks as I nod.

“Yes, I was there when he found out. We were in the doctors’ lounge when his attending came with police officers.”

“What happened?” Walker chimes in.

“Let me think. This was almost ten years ago, so I don’t remember the specifics, but the police officers were notifying him of his mother’s death. I can’t remember how she died, but he was distraught, and I’m sure I comforted him in some way? I honestly don’t recall. I just remember thinking it was so sad to find out that way.”

“According to police reports, his mother was found deceased at the bottom of the stairs in her residence, with a shattered vase of flowers that they assumed she was carrying down the stairs when she fell. It was ruled an accidental death,” Mason reads from his screen as memories clarify at the mention.

“That’s right. I remember them saying she fell and was found but likely died upon impact of the fall.” Graham had been so stoic when they told him. I read his lack of reaction as shock, but looking back at it, I don’t know if it was shock or something else.

“And you were there when he found out?” Tara asks and I nod. “Could that have, like, twisted something for him in that moment because you were there?”

I try to think of the situation as a doctor and not as the person involved. “In times of stress like significant loss, it is possible to have a transference of emotional attachment that otherwise would not have occurred. He could have also misunderstood my intention of being supportive as something else, like it was fate that I was the one there with him instead of coincidence.”

“How does that fit the profile?” Walker asks.

“It … it fits. The need for control, the desire to replicate the relationship that he lost, but then somehow transferred the obsession to, well, me.”

“Where the hell is this guy right now?” Kelly bellows.

“He was due at the hospital for rounds this morning and called in sick,” Mason replies, typing away at his computer without looking up. “I have his credit card activity—he flew out of Boston. Hold on, let me confirm the flight’s destination.”

“Is he on the run?” Walker asks Mason.

“Well, technically, but we aren’t going to have to go far. He landed in Nashville two days ago.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

“Okay, take a breath everyone. We need to approach this with strategy and logic running the ship, not emotion, alright?” Walker says to the room as we all agree.

Or I think I agree. I’m not sure. The world has slowed and blurred slightly around me. I breathe in for three and out for six, telling my nervous system I am safe. I am competent. I can handle this.

I can stop Graham.

“Walker is right. We would look at the unsub and consider his motivation to come to Nashville. The obvious answer would be for me, but he hasn’t made any type of contact with me.” I take the Diet Coke from Christine’s outstretched hand with a small nod.

This is routine.

This is what we do.

“But why now? He’s known where I’ve been this entire time. Unless…” I don’t want to finish that sentence.

I look down at my left hand and the nausea from earlier rears its head at the very likely reasoning for Graham’s trip to Nashville.

My fiancé.

Where is Ryan?

“Where is he?” Walker pulls me from my thoughts as I grab my cell phone. My text from earlier still doesn’t say delivered, and we have our read receipts enabled with each other, so it should say read by now. I press the call button and wait for it to connect.

“His plane from Chicago landed at four this afternoon, but I haven’t heard from him. I texted him before going into this meeting, but I—” I try to find my breath again as his phone goes straight to voicemail. I shake my head. “He isn’t answering, and his phone isn’t ringing through.”

“Let’s find your man, shall we?” Mason asks as he pulls up the footage from inside the Nashville airport—a massive perk of being a federal agency and having airports within our jurisdiction. “Here’s his flight from Chicago, looks like they landed at 4:02, and … there he is, walking with the other passengers.” We watch as Mason switches cameras and follows Ryan through the airport, to baggage claim, and as he walks to the parking garage.