Decay (Phoebe Reede: The Untold #3.2 Declan Reede: The Untold Story #6)

by Michelle Irwin

  When another near-silent sob filled my ear, I lost it. “What did he fucking do?”

  “Things are really bad here. Beau, he—he . . . It’s too hard to explain. It’s too hard here. I can’t face him. I can’t do this. Not anymore. I-I’m going away. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

  What was going on there? Alyssa and Phoebe had talked a little about the hornets’ nest Phoebe had walked into, but Phoebe had indicated she was okay. Mum had talked about the tense air between Phoebe and Beau, but everyone had told me Phoebe was all right. Every question I’d asked had been met with reassurances. The sobs of my baby echoing down the line told me that everything was not fucking all right. Not even fucking close to being all fucking right. Someone was going to pay for that. No one fucked with my family, not without paying the fucking price. “Phoebe, what are you—”

  She cut me off with a rushed apology. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to you again. But I want you to know that I love you, okay? Tell everyone that I love them. Always. I love you all so much.”

  Her words were too much. They felt like a goodbye. A permanent goodbye. “Phoebe, what’s going—” I cut off as the line went dead. “Fuck!” I shouted at the ceiling as I pegged the phone at the foot of the bed.

  Alyssa threw herself out of the bed and rounded it to stand in front of me.

  “What is it?” Her voice shook and she stood in front of me blinking repeatedly, as though trying to shake off sleep in an instant.

  Seeing the stress crossing her features only made its counterpart in me amp up a thousand fucking degrees. Clutching my hair in my hands, I growled at the ceiling.

  “Dec, you’re scaring me.”

  “Give me a fucking second.” I hadn’t intended the words to be as harsh as they came out, but I couldn’t control my tongue. Ignoring Alyssa, I reached for the phone again and tried calling Phoebe back. It went straight to her voice mail. Another growl ripped from me, and the phone went airborne in the direction of the bed a second time.

  “Dec, stop!” Alyssa’s command stilled me. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “I don’t fucking know. Phoebe—she . . .” She what, exactly? I couldn’t even say. She was “going away,” but what the fuck did that even mean? Going where? Why? With who? I needed more fucking answers.

  “She what?” Alyssa was breathless and it wasn’t helping me to concentrate, what with her perfect lips pushed out in a concerned pout, or the fear that flashed in her eyes as she waited for information. Every tiny sign of stress that ravaged her usually calm features only caused me more concern.

  “I don’t know.” I threw my hands in the air as my exasperation reached its limit. My voice was a little too loud, and far too rushed. “She said she needed to go away. What the fuck does that even mean?”

  Alyssa’s lips pressed tightly together.

  My thoughts were spinning out of control but there was one thing I was sure of. One name she’d repeated during the call. “That arsehole Beau hurt her.”

  The room was too fucking small to contain the energy bubbling through my chest as I paced from wall to wall. I needed to get back on the phone, but I was certain it’d just go to her voice mail again.

  “Dec, slow down and tell me what Phoebe said. What’s happened?”

  “That stupid arsehole she moved halfway around the world for. He hurt her. Apparently she’s taking off because she can’t handle whatever he did to her. Said she needs time away.”

  Alyssa moved to block my next loop of the room. Her hands came to rest on my shoulders, and once more she whispered calming words to me. “It’s not the first time she’s needed to take a few days away to sort through the noise. It probably won’t be the last.”

  I tried to shrug out of her hold, but she held me in a way I’m sure she thought I needed. “Not right before a race. This is the time to focus. To centre. She knows that.”

  Alyssa’s hands stroked over my biceps. “Maybe this is her way of getting the space she needs to do that. Maybe she can’t find her centre around Richards Racing.”

  “But why would she call now? At this time of night. She’s always been good with the time zones.”

  “It’d be lunchtime for her there, maybe she just forgot the time difference with whatever she has going on.”

  “Maybe . . .” It was hard to be convinced when I could still hear the ghost of Phoebe’s sobs playing over in my mind. And her final words . . . “But why—”

  Alyssa pressed her finger to my lips. “I’m sure she’s okay. She’s called us to let us know that she’s going away for a couple of days. That’s exactly what we would want her to do if something happened and she needed to go away, isn’t it?”

  Despite the logic in her argument, I couldn’t calm my heart or the twist in my gut that said something was fucking wrong. “You didn’t hear her, Lys—”

  Alyssa cupped my cheeks and drew my eyes down to hers. “And you always panic far more than necessary when it comes to her.”

  I raised my brow because of the two of us, Alyssa had always been far more protective. At least until Phoebe turned fourteen and boys started to fucking sniff around. Then—right when Phoebe had been in the worst danger ever—Alyssa had started to relax and my stress increased a thousandfold overnight. All I could think about were the things Alyssa and I had shared when we were not that much older.

  “She’s probably just climbed on her bike—”

  “She better fucking not have!” The words exploded from me. Phoebe had been banned from riding her bike for the next few months because it was winter in the States. Unlike our winters in Queensland, which were only marginally cooler than our summers, where she lived now got snow.

  And sleet.

  And fucking black ice.

  The number of additional road hazards that she had to face on top of the usual dangers of a fucking motorbike made it too deadly. “She was told not to,” I added.

  “Much as we both hate it, she’s not our little girl anymore. We can ask her not to ride it, but we can’t make her do anything.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s get back to bed and we’ll call her to sort it all out in the morning. Okay?”

  I doubted I’d be able to slow my heart enough to go back to sleep, but I still nodded and let her drag me back into bed.

  “SHE’S STILL NOT answering.”

  I tossed my phone onto the sofa as I paced the length of the living room. So far—fifteen calls in—I’d had no luck reaching her. Because of the phone call the previous night, I’d been on edge all day. I tried to hide my concern from the other kids, but it was getting harder with every unanswered and unreturned call. In the end, we were able to ship most of our kids off to either friends’ houses or to spend a few hours with Mum, giving us the house to ourselves with just Nikki to take care of. It wasn’t an ideal way of dealing with the situation, but at least I could speak my fucking mind without having to worry about one of the kids overhearing and stressing about Phoebe.

  I’d tried calling Angel as well, but I’d only spoken to her almost incoherently drunk mother, who’d informed me that Angel was travelling again before going on a diatribe about how ungrateful and selfish Angel was. I’d hung up after having to defend Phoebe’s friend to her own mother for the third time in five minutes.

  Alyssa glanced at the clock from her position on the floor, where she was playing with Nikki. “Well, I guess it’s late there now. Maybe she went straight to bed when she got wherever she was going.”

  I wasn’t convinced, and based on the waver in Alyssa’s voice, neither was she.

  Shortly after Dad’s death, Phoebe had promised there’d never be any distance between us. That she’d never not be in contact, no matter what happened. Something was wrong. I crossed my arms over my chest. “If she hasn’t called by Monday night, I’m calling Dale Richards and finding out what he knows.”

  “If you think that’s for the best.”

  “Of c
ourse it’s for the fuc—for the best. I’d call him right now except it’s the weekend and I don’t have a personal line for him. How long do we let it go on without any contact?”

  “It’s been less than a day.”

  “You didn’t hear her, Lys,” I repeated my argument from the previous night. Alyssa was worried, it was clear, but trying to be practical. “Something has her spooked.”

  Leaving Nikki to play alone on the floor, Alyssa crossed the room to stop my pacing. “I’m worried about her too, Dec. Obviously something she said during the call has put you on edge, but there’s nothing we can do about it for the next few days. So can you please try to relax?”

  I collapsed onto the sofa. “I just hate that she’s so far away and there’s nothing I can do to help her.”

  Alyssa sat beside me and curled into my chest. “I know. I feel the same way.”

  While I held her for my own peace of mind, Nikki toddled over to us, reaching up for a cuddle. Alyssa leaned forward and picked her up, placing her between our bodies.

  “You’re not allowed to grow up, ever, is that understood?” I said to Nikki as I tickled her sides until she squirmed. “I need at least one of you to stay a baby forever. Can you do that for me?”

  She giggled and squealed and kicked, telling me to stop, but every time I did, she would glare at me until I started again.

  “Are you okay with her for a little while?” Alyssa asked. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make, but I was waiting until she went down for a sleep.”

  I nodded. “I’ve got her. Maybe we’ll go for a drive and get out of the house for a while.”

  Alyssa nodded before walking away.

  “Would you like that, baby? Go for a drive.”

  “Fas?”

  Fast was the third word Nikki had learned. She was already on her way to becoming a speed demon like her daddy and her eldest sister. “Is there any other way to go?” I asked with a wink. “But you can’t tell Mummy, okay?” I pressed my finger to my lips.

  She giggled as she mimicked my pose. I scooped her up into my arms and carried her out to my car. A day with my youngest might be exactly what I needed to put my worries over Phoebe out of my mind.

  WHEN EVERYONE was in bed, I tried Phoebe’s line again. Once more, I got the voice mail. I couldn’t just leave another unanswered message though; it was time I got some real answers. I grabbed the number for Richards Racing headquarters from Alyssa and dialled.

  After being diverted through a few different places, I finally got through to Dale Richards’s office, but not the man himself. The woman on the other end of the line was pleasant-sounding, with a light accent, but advised she couldn’t help me.

  “Mr Richards is unavailable at the moment,” she added.

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s taking some personal time before the race season starts. I can have him call you when he is available again.”

  “When might that be?”

  “He’ll be back on board in a couple of days, but he’ll be heading straight to Florida. He’ll be down there through to the end of the 500.”

  I ran the schedule through my head; the end of the 500 was almost three weeks away. I couldn’t wait that long to speak to the man who was ultimately responsible for the safety and sanity of my daughter—the same way I was responsible for every member of my team.

  “Have you got any information about Phoebe’s schedule?” I asked, hoping that if this Mary-Lou was Dale Richards’s personal assistant, she might have some information.

  “She’s due down at the track today, but I haven’t got a scheduled time as yet.” The irritation in her voice was evident.

  “Should you have one?”

  “Generally the team managers liaise with the drivers to arrange that information, yes. However, it looks as though we’re lacking that for Miss Reede at the moment. No, wait, I actually do have something for her. It’s not an itinerary, but I have an email advising she’ll be out of town for the short term.”

  “Short term? What does that mean?”

  “I couldn’t tell you, I’m afraid, sir. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just needs some time to settle her pre-race jitters. There have been a few rumours circling about her performance in her test—” As if she realised that she was spreading idle gossip, she cut off.

  She was lucky she did, because I was close to exploding. Phoebe didn’t let pre-race jitters get the best of her. It was more than that, I was certain of it. She was my daughter—she sucked it up and did what was needed. It might have been her first race in that format, but it wasn’t her first race.

  “I’ll leave a note with the track crew to have her call you as soon as she arrives,” Mary-Lou added.

  “Please do.” When I hung up, I didn’t feel any relief or reassurance. Deep in my core, I could feel something was wrong.

  Without pause, I dialled Phoebe’s number again.

  Once more, my call remained unanswered.

  I TRIED TO let the routine and madness of family life take over my worries about Phoebe, but it wasn’t easy. Part of me wanted to fly to the States, storm the castle, and demand to see my little girl, but I also understood Alyssa’s calm, reasoned approach—even if I could see through the bullshit of her calm facade with the worry burning in her eyes.

  Tuesday night and Wednesday night, I rang the office and was told the same thing. Rang Angel’s mobile number, only to have it ring out each time. Phoebe hadn’t turned up at the track yet, and when she did, I’d be the first to know. Then I rang her building manager to find out if she’d been seen, but they confirmed what I expected. Her passcode hadn’t been used since the day she’d had some promo work with a racing show in the States.

  “I have to go over,” I said to Alyssa after we retreated to our room once all the kids were settled into their beds. “Something’s wrong.”

  “I think you’re right.” The fear in Alyssa’s gaze had grown steadily with every passing day. It was now almost four days since Phoebe had called, and we’d heard nothing. No further communication of any sort. Not even a one-word text to let us know she was okay.

  It just wasn’t her.

  It wasn’t the way she’d been raised, but more than that, it wasn’t in her nature to up and vanish and leave everyone else to worry about her safety. Even when she’d run away from home over the years and disappeared to Eden’s place, she contacted us before she climbed onto the flight—even if it was right before getting on the flight. It might have defeated the purpose of running away, but I’d always been grateful for it.

  “When?” Alyssa asked, moving into my hold.

  “As soon as I can get there. I’ll have Audrey get on it first thing in the morning.” Even further calls to Richards Racing had yielded similar results to the first—our messages were taken and we were promised we’d be called as soon as Dale was available or Phoebe returned. There seemed to be little urgency or concern in their response. No amount of ranting could change the answers though. It was clear Dale was “too busy” to call me back. That alone was enough to put a severe damper on our working relationship. There wasn’t a call to our office that went unanswered within one business day.

  “What are you going to do if you can’t get hold of her?” Alyssa clung to me as she asked the question.

  “Then I’ll speak to the person she said hurt her, and I’ll make him tell me what the fuck happened.”

  Alyssa rested her forehead against my cheek as she whispered, “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Lys, you know me—”

  She cut me off with a laugh. “I do know you. That’s exactly the reason I’m asking you not to do anything stupid. The last thing we need is you locked up in prison overseas on assault charges.”

  “I won’t do anything he doesn’t deserve.”

  “Maybe I should go—”

  “No, Lys, everyone here needs you too much. Emmanuel Racing will be able to run itself for a while, but you have clients that need you
to be available.”

  After coaxing her agreement for me to handle it alone, Alyssa and I spent the night trying to push aside our growing concern for our daughter and get a few last stolen moments together before I went into the unknown.

  The next day, Audrey had my flights arranged and accommodation booked. I was due to arrive late on Sunday night—the weekend that should have been her first race. There was a chance Phoebe would turn up for the event while I was in the air, but even if that happened it would still be worth the trip. The first thing I’d do was pull her into my arms and hold her until I had made myself confident that she was safe, and then I would chew her out for worrying her mother and me.

  I doubted that would be the case though. My instincts were screaming that something was wrong and the week of delays was burning my insides.

  Before I left home, Alyssa and I sat down and told the kids about Phoebe in the most age-appropriate way we could. It wasn’t the best thing to tell them when we had no answers for them about where she was or even whether she was okay, but it was better they heard it from us than from anyone else if the media got hold of the information. Plus, they needed to know why I was leaving, and why I wasn’t sure when I would be coming home.

  After we’d told them what was happening, I held each one extra tight—except Brock, who pulled out of my hold and argued he was too old for hugs. By the time I left, he and Parker were in an argument about whether it was possible to be too old for hugs while Beth cried about Phoebe’s absence. I flipped Alyssa an apologetic smile before climbing into the cab to head to the airport.

  For the next thirty-odd hours, I was in the air or at an airport and felt useless at every turn. Whenever I could, I flicked through my emails, checked in with Alyssa, and did whatever I could to keep things ticking at work and home while I was on the road. It wasn’t much, but it made me feel at least a little useful.