Page 20 of A Shot at Love
“Searching? That tells me you have no idea where they are, do you?”
He didn’t answer her, but merely nodded.
“This just sucks,” she said, repeating her thoughts of earlier.
Whatever appetite she’d woken with was gone now, killed by the knowledge that her life had been turned upside down and wasn’t about to be righted any time soon.
She wanted to fly out the front door, grab a cab and run back to her condo. She’d shut and lock the doors and spend her solitary days working, pushing the horror of the past twenty-four hours from her mind.
She wanted to immerse herself in work until her eyes bled and her head begged for relief.
She wanted to punch something—anything—hard enough to free her mind of the fear and anger soaking through it.
She wanted to do all that and more, but what she wound up doing was storming from the kitchen, back up to her tiny, safe bedroom, and plopping down, face-up, on the bed that wasn’t her own.
*
“She’s been up there all day,” Jon said hours later.
Ky looked up to the clock on the wall above the couch.
They were in the den, the room they’d fashioned as a command center, each at a desk, their laptops opened in front of them, files scattered atop the desks. For most of the day they’d been reviewing documents, arrest forms, witness statements, phone records, anything and everything that might give them a lead on how Ritandi had known where to find Calafano. So far nothing had popped for either of them, and Ky was getting more frustrated by the moment.
Live video feed of the outside of the house streamed on six different screens, each focused on a separate area of the perimeter, the back yard included.
“Didn’t come down for lunch,” Jon added, looking up at the ceiling. “And she didn’t have any breakfast before you told her about Faldo. She’s got to be hungry, don’t you think, and lonely, up there all by herself.”
Ky glanced over at him. “You sound like my mother, worried if someone skips a meal they’re going to die from starvation.”
Jon grinned.
“She’s upset about the situation,” Ky said, simply, leaning back in his chair. “Being stuck here, unable to do what she wants to do. Go where she wants to go. And I don’t imagine she wants to be around either of us since we’re part of the reason she’s here.”
“Don’t you think one of us should check on her, though? Make sure she’s okay? See if she needs anything?”
Ky regarded his partner through slitted eyes. “When did you become such a mother hen?”
“I’m not.” Jon’s grin turned wry. “I’m just saying one of us should make sure she’s okay.”
Ky shook his head. “Okay, YiaYia.” He rose from the chair and stretched his arms over his head. “My eyes are starting to cross from looking at all this anyway. I’ll go check on her.”
“Ask if she wants something to eat,” Jon instructed.
Ky turned from the doorway. “I’m getting the distinct impression you’re not as worried about her stomach being filled as you are about your own.”
His partner’s face split into what Ky’s oldest brother, Chrystos, mockingly called a shit-eating grin.
“Well, it is almost time for dinner. And we do have our deal, remember? You cook. I clean. It works.”
Ky threw him a speaking glance and then started up the stairs.
The door to Gemma’s room was closed over, but not shut. Ky tapped gently on the doorframe. When he got no response, he pushed it open just a bit so he could look in.
The bed was made but empty, the sheets rumpled as if she’d lain on top of them; the bedside light off. The sound of water running had him glancing at the accompanying closed bathroom door. A thin line of light beamed from under it.
His gaze was drawn to the desk and chair situated under the open window. Shaking his head he realized he needed to have a conversation with her about sitting in front of it since she didn’t seem to realize she was making herself a target.
Atop the desk her laptop was open, a slideshow moving across it, littered with photographs. Like metal to a magnet, it pulled him closer, the images scrolling by calling to him.
