Her keys.
She’d taken her things and left her keys.
My fist closed around them, holding so tightly I felt the plastic on the little camera break and the edge of a key cut into my skin. Anger began to simmer, and with a roar of rage, I flung the keys away so hard they were embedded in the wall. I grabbed my coat and the keys to my motorcycle—I wasn’t done with this.
Not by a long shot.
—
The key code didn’t work as I punched it into the door of her building. The red light remained steady. As I was glaring at it, another tenant exited, and I grabbed the door, hurrying inside before he could stop me. I took the stairs two at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator.
Her door was ajar and I pushed it open, gaping at the room. The apartment was empty, except for a woman standing in the middle of the room, making notes on a thick pad. She glanced up with a frown. “The showing isn’t for another twenty minutes. How did you get upstairs?”
“Showing?”
“The apartment. It’s up for sale. I assume that’s why you are here?”
“I don’t have an appointment. I hoped I could walk through,” I said, improvising.
“Fine,” she huffed.
I looked around—for what I had no idea—but the place was empty. I stood in the doorway of Ally’s bedroom, staring. The indents of her furniture were still in the carpet. I shook my head in confusion and turned, a glint catching my eye. I crossed the room and bent, picking up a thin gold chain in the corner—somehow overlooked. A twisted, broken nightingale hung from it, but I recognized it. It was one of many I had given to her. A burning began in my chest, and I returned to the main area after shoving the mangled metal into my pocket.
“How long has it been up for sale?”
“I got the listing last week.”
“Did you meet the girl who lived here?”
“No. I dealt with the owner. Why?”
I shrugged.
“Are you interested?”
I took her card. “I’ll let you know.”
I drove to the hospital, parking my bike on the sidewalk. I knew I’d get a ticket, but I didn’t give a flying fuck.
I found Vivian in the busy ER. When she saw me, she waved me to an empty room.
“Have you heard from her?” I asked, not bothering with greetings.
“Only one email.”
“What did it say?”
“Not much, really. She said she couldn’t stay here anymore—that she broke it off with you and needed a fresh start.” She paused, squeezing my arm in sympathy. “She told me she’d moved out of the city, Adam. I’m sorry.”
“Did you reply?” I choked out. I’d beg her for the email address.
“I tried—several times. It bounced back. I can’t help you get in touch with her. I’m sorry.”
I blinked at her as numbness crept in.
Ally was gone.
She was really and truly gone. In fact, she’d run from me. Left her life and disappeared.
Wordlessly, I turned and left.
—
“Mrs. Givens will see you.”
I paced as I waited. It had taken me ten minutes of talking to get in the building. The only reason I was allowed in was I threatened to cause a huge scene.
Now I was waiting in the drawing room.
A few minutes later, Sarah swept in, looking as cold and indifferent as I remembered.
“Where’s Ally?” I demanded.
“My daughter’s whereabouts don’t concern you anymore.”
“I need to talk to her.”
Sarah shook her head. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. She wants nothing to do with you. I believe she informed you of that decision.”
“Via text,” I spat out. “That isn’t like Ally.”
“My daughter’s name is Alexandra. And I don’t believe you left her any other recourse, but to send you a text while you were off taking your pictures, leaving her alone once again, without any communication.” She narrowed her eyes. “Even after she begged you not to go.”
I stepped back in shock. She knew about that?
Sarah smiled. A cold, calculated smile. “Yes, Mr. Kincaid. She told me. I know you had a disagreement before you left. She told me everything, including how unhappy she has been.” She raised a hand and patted her already perfect hair back into place. “After much thought, she decided she couldn’t live this way any longer. She knew she would always be second place for you. She spoke with Ronald and me at length and decided she wanted to move—she needed a fresh start.”
I barked out a humorless laugh. “A move I’m sure you strongly supported.”
She studied me impassively. “Regardless of what she may have told you, I have always had my daughter’s best interest at heart. Ronald and I agreed it was the best thing for her. She felt she didn’t need to be reminded of her little error in judgment all the time.”
I recoiled. Was that how she thought of me? An error in judgment?
“Where is she?”
“None of your business.”
“Tell me. I need to get in touch with her.”
With a roll of her eyes, she pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen. Only seconds passed with a return text. She held out her phone, showing me the screen.
Alexandra, Mr. Kincaid is here. What shall I say?
The reply was short.
Tell him to leave. I don’t want to see him.
I grabbed the back of the chair, unable to believe what I had read.
“I need to speak to her. I just need—”
“I don’t care what you need. You can’t have it. Leave my home, Mr. Kincaid. Leave my daughter alone.” She held up her phone, her expression cold. “She’s made it clear—she wants nothing to do with you. Accept it and move on with your life.”
She began to leave and my hand shot out.
“Please,” I beseeched her. “Give me her new number.”
I wasn’t above begging—not for Ally.
She shook off my grip, wiping her sleeve with disdain. “I understand you’re upset. But it’s for the best. Alexandra is doing so much better now. She’s happy.” She fixed me an all-knowing stare. “Even you must admit, she hadn’t been happy for a while, Mr. Kincaid. Leave her alone and let her live the life she wants to live. Go and live yours.”
She left the room, calling for her butler to show me out.
I went without protest.
I didn’t have the strength to fight.
Chapter 18
Two days passed as I tried to find her. It was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. With Elena dead, the only other person I could reach out to was Emma, and I had no contact information for her. Ally had it on her phone. I found her design page online, and left information under “Contact Us,” but I had a feeling my attempt would fail. No one could help me at her old store, even when I showed up in person. They grudgingly took my information, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be getting a call back. In desperation, I went to see Bradley, but his office informed me he was away on personal business.
It struck me then how small the circle around us had been. Losing Elena had been a blow to each of us. With the life I led, I had few people I considered true friends, and Ally’s life was so isolated I knew no one other than Vivian and Emma, and I didn’t have a close relationship with either. I only met Emma once, since our schedules never seemed to line up. Vivian didn’t have a new number for her, and when she checked with the other nursing staff, no one had heard from Ally. I tried Emma again, only to be shut down once more, and the messages I left on her social media pages were ignored. There were a lot of people with the same surname of Jones in the Ottawa area, but none of the ones I tried were right.
I hired a private investigator. I gave him the information I had, and he came up with nothing. All he could tell me was her phone had been canceled, her credit card not used. There were no plane or train tickets issued in her name, and no record o
f her being admitted to the local hospitals. It was as if she had disappeared.
“Give me some more time, Adam. I’ll keep searching. You’ve given me so little information, it’s going to take longer. I’ll start checking into her parents next.”
I felt numb. It was as if my brain and my heart were in two separate places. My brain screamed at me to react, to do something, but my heart felt sluggish and empty. I paced a lot. Drank too much scotch. My refrigerator was still empty and I had no desire to put anything in it. I dozed in my old chair, restless and unable to relax.
I kept hoping the phone would ring. That she’d show up at the door and tell me it was all a mistake. I waited for that to happen.
I waited in vain.
—
A knock at the door roused me and I raced to it, flinging the door open, startling the person on the other side. Mr. Freedman, from the jewelry store downstairs stood there, smiling at me.
“Ah, Mr. Kincaid, you’re home. I thought I saw you earlier. Excellent.”
“What can I do for you?” I rasped out.
He held out his hand. “I was waiting for Ms. Robbins to pick this up. Since she hadn’t come in, I thought I would drop it by for you.”
Wordlessly, I stretched out my hand and accepted the small box.
“Come see me when you’re ready for your band.”
I cleared my throat. “Thank you for bringing it by.”
“No problem.” He paused. “Mr. Kincaid, are you all right?”
I looked at him, shaking my head. “No.”
I shut the door.
An hour later I was still holding the box in one hand, the bottle of scotch in the other. Finally, I raised the lid on the box and looked at Ally’s ring.
Small, delicate, and perfect.
Just like her.
The diamonds glittered under the light, the white and rose gold seamlessly entwined, the design still as lovely as the day I saw it in the window of the antique shop in London. He had done an amazing job—the work on it perfect. You would never know it hadn’t always been this petite. The inscription mocked me, the small words blazing in my eyes. Words that no longer held any meaning—at least not to Ally.
I remembered the day we finally went to see him. She had asked him about a band for me and he quickly sketched a simple design—far more masculine for me. He was going to make it for us when we were ready, and ensured he had ordered enough of the same gold so it would match.
I shut the lid with a loud snap.
I guessed we’d never be ready.
We’d never be getting married.
I lurched to my feet as the burn started. My legs began shaking, my stomach tightening. My chest was on fire as a sudden wave of blistering-hot pain coursed through me. My sluggish heart began racing, my breath coming out in gasps.
She was gone.
My Nightingale was gone and she wasn’t coming back.
I’d lost the one thing in my life that was good. By insisting on fulfilling my professional obligations, I had abandoned my personal ones and caused the woman I loved to walk away.
I was a fucking idiot.
I gripped the edge of the counter, a slow rage filling me, chasing away the numbness. With a roar, I flung the small box away. It bounced off the wall, hitting the counter and rolling to the floor.
Suddenly I wanted everything gone. Destroyed. Nothing was safe. The dishes we bought together shattered against the wall, the shards hitting my skin. Blood dripped from the tiny cuts. Her favorite mug hit the floor exploding in a fury of ceramic slivers. Small items she’d picked out were destroyed. Her favored blanket I tore, the material shredding under my angry hands.
Lenses and a few cameras were tossed across the room as I raged. My phone hit the wall, the screen cracking and going black. Everything that sat on top of my desk was decimated with a sweep of my arm. I glanced up and froze. The photo, my photo of her, still hung across from my desk, where I could see it every time I sat there. Stalking over, I gripped the edges, tearing it away from the wall, raising it over my head, intent on destroying it, as well.
Except I couldn’t. My arms locked in place and slowly I lowered them, the picture resting along the top of the desk. I traced the outline of her freckles with the tip of my shaking finger.
Enchanting I had called them.
Freckles I had touched, kissed, teased with my tongue.
Freckles I wouldn’t ever see again.
Hot, burning tears coursed down my cheeks, dripping onto the glass. They mixed with the blood, splashing red on the image.
My heart’s blood.
Rage left and agony moved in. I stumbled back, gripping my hair, one word leaving my mouth.
“Ally.”
I collapsed on the bed, shattered and drained. I buried my face in the pillow—the pillow that still smelled of her. I thundered in rage, no longer able to contain the pain
I screamed until my voice was gone.
Until the physical pain overrode the pain in my heart.
Until the darkness inside became the darkness that drowned me.
—
Sean looked at me, shocked. “Adam, please tell me you’re joking.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m resigning. Effective immediately. I don’t want to do this anymore—any of it.”
“Look, I know the last trip was rough. I had no idea what you’d be going into would be so intense. Larry is taking a leave for a while. Why don’t you do the same? Get your head together. Spend some time with your pretty lady. Come back when you’re ready.”
I swallowed at his mention of Ally. No one knew what had occurred. I didn’t plan on sharing.
“No, Sean. I’m done. The last trip wasn’t just rough. The suffering and death I saw—it was devastating. I don’t know how Peter and Edwina cope with it.”
“The satellite phones you ordered for Peter arrived and he told me how invaluable you were—and how generous. He said he wasn’t sure he would have made it through without your help.” His voice dropped. “He told me it was pretty bad. He was worried about your health. I am, as well. You look awful.”
I didn’t want to discuss my health or anything else. Only the fact I was done.
“What are you going to do?”
“Actually, I’m going back. The clinic need hands—any kind of hands to help. I’m going to go and do some good for a change, and then I’m going to get lost for a while. Take pictures of beautiful things and try to remember a world that doesn’t contain death and devastation.”
“I’ll take your pictures. We’ll use them in the travel section. Don’t quit on me. You’re one of my best.” His voice was rough. “I was sure you’d change your mind about leaving. I had no idea this trip would push you further away.”
I hesitated.
I knew I needed to get out of this city. Away from the memories that now haunted me at every turn. Ally was everywhere.
When I woke up after my breakdown, I spent hours cleaning the loft. Sweeping and scrubbing up the mess I had created with my whirlwind temper. The last thing I did was tuck her ring away into the back of my file cabinet, along with the pieces of her broken necklace. Then I sat down and thought of my options for hours. The investigator had nothing still—he wanted more time. I could wait and see if he found anything and go see her. Make her say the words to my face. Except I kept remembering her texts. She knew I was here, since she’d responded to her mother’s text, but she hadn’t tried to get in touch. Her silence said more than any words she could have screamed at me.
She had run away because of me. I thought of how much she loved working at the hospital. Her quiet life, outside the world of Sarah and Ronald. I had only lived here a few years, and aside from people at the magazine, I had very little holding me here. And the memories that were here were too much to handle.
I should be the one to leave. She should be free to come back and live her life. If I wasn’t here, she could return. My presence had to be keeping her away.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“Name it.”
“I’m still resigning. And I want a press release issued stating that fact, as well as the fact I have left the country. If anyone inquires, I am no longer under contract here.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me.”
I held up my hand. “When I’m ready and I start taking photos again, I’ll think about coming back. But that information stays strictly between us. Not a word goes out I might return.”
“You’re really leaving?”
“Yes.”
“What about Ally—”
I shook my head before he could finish.
His face changed, his expression saddening. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I have to go.”
He sighed. “Why do I have a feeling you might never return?”
“There’s that chance. But if it happens, I’ll let you know.”
“I bought your photos before you lived here, you know. We can do that again.”
“If I begin to work again, you’ll be the first to know.”
He sighed in resignation. “When do you want the press release out?”
I wanted to leave fast. To escape and leave the memories behind. “Larry and I will finish the piece today. I need a few days to get my affairs in order.”
“So Friday?”
“Yes. Release it once I’m gone.”
He stood, extending his hand. “I hope to see you back in that chair again, Adam.” He drew in a deep breath. “And without that haunted look on your face.”
I shook his hand without replying. I wasn’t sure that look would ever leave.
—
Friday night, I looked around the loft, gazing at the space impassively. My bag was by the door, the case with my equipment beside it.
I had arranged for the loft to be checked on and cleaned. John would handle my business affairs and I would contact him when I could.
On the counter was my new phone. The other one still worked, despite the shattered screen, but with the way I was traveling, I changed plans and numbers. Only a few people had the old number but I had passed on the new one to them anyway, and to a couple of others, as well.
My Image of You Page 19
