Page 16 of You for Her (The Edge of Retaliation 2)
Her voice hitches, and my heart breaks for her. The poor woman, she thinks her son doesn’t care for her anymore, she thinks that it’s her fault he’s not here. Whatever they argued about is enough for her to believe his little lie about not coming home. If only she knew the truth, and that is that he no longer even carries his old name.
Still, one thing stands out. He calls her occasionally.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to cause any upset.”
“That’s okay.” She waves a hand. “It isn’t your fault.”
“He no longer has a Facebook account, or a phone number, so I didn’t know what I’d find when I came here, I was just hoping he still lived around this area like I’d heard. That’s no problem at all. I really am sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.”
She studies me, and then waves a hand, “Did you know Celia well?”
My heart twists, and I nod, smiling. One person I hate lying about, is Celia Yates. “I did, actually.”
She nods, sadly, “It was such a hard time for everyone.”
I agree, smiling. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through so much.”
She smiles back, broken, but a smile. “I’m sorry, I missed your name?”
“My name is April.”
She steps aside and says, “Would you like to come in? I have just brewed some coffee. I was on my way to shower.”
“Of course, thank you.”
“You’re most welcome. I don’t hear from Chase’s friends. I miss the hectic lifestyle that used to fill my house daily. It’s so empty without him here.”
“You still have Tatum, that’s got to mean something.”
I am risking everything throwing Tatum in the mix, but the fact is, I need answers and the only way I’ll get those is to take risks. It’s obvious Tatum has something to do with this, and I want to know how close he is to his family. He was obviously close enough to his brother to help him out.
I didn’t get much information from the emails I found at his house, except Tatum going back and forth with someone about getting a new I.D. He didn’t say for who, and he didn’t say what for, but it was around the time Celia died. About a week before, actually, which makes me think he got his brother out and that’s when he disappeared and Celia freaked out. Slowly, it’s all piecing together.
The woman nods. “Yes, my oldest son has been my rock. Do you know him, too?”
“I do, yes.”
She smiles, and we both walk into the large home. She points to the dining table and tells me to take a seat while she goes and takes a shower. I do so, watching her disappear down the hall. When she’s gone, I stand quickly and rush over to the kitchen counter. I frantically look through pieces of paper, trying to find something to give me an idea of where Chase is. There’s nothing there.
I hurry into the living area and glance at all the photos above the television. Chase was a good-looking man, but that’s not surprising considering how Tatum looks. Chase is very similar looking to his older brother, only his hair is a little lighter, more a medium brown, and he’s clean shaven. He has the same light-blue eyes and the same mischievous smile. He’s gorgeous.
I turn and walk back into the dining room, unable to snoop any further without risking getting caught. I notice a phone on the counter, just up the other end near the coffee machine. It would be locked, right? I mean, everyone locks their phones these days. Still, I can’t not go over and pick it up. I rush over, glancing down the hall to make sure I’m still alone. I pick up the phone and bring it to life with a swipe of my finger.
It’s unlocked.
My heart pounds and my fingers tremble as I frantically go into the contacts and search for Chase. I find him, and with a ferocity I never thought possible, pull out my phone and quickly enter his number. Then, with my hands still shaking, I lock the phone and place it down where I found it. My whole body is on high alert when I sit down at the dining table, shaking from head to toe.
I feel like a damned criminal.
I feel like I’m invading her privacy.
But I had no other option.
She returns a few minutes later, clean and wearing a long, flowing, black sun dress. Her hair is wet and falling over her shoulder in one big, thick bunch. She smiles when she sees me, and says, “I didn’t introduce myself; my name is Freya.”
I smile, and say, “You have a lovely home, Freya.”
“Thank you, dear. How do you have your coffee?”
“Just black, please.”
She walks over, and my heart races as I watch her, terrified she will notice her phone. She doesn’t even glance at it as she prepares the coffee.
