They located the booth she used to make the call, but all they found was the receiver off of the hook, hanging down in its abandonment. He got to her before she even stood a chance. Before I stood a chance to get to her; to bring her safely back home to us.
“The cops are on their way over,” Rach tells me, her eyes sore from the tears she’s shed. “They said that they have had some of the results back from the lab, and so far, they are all negatives.”
“Results?” Rye steps forward, glancing between us, waiting for one of us to answer his question.
My gaze drops back down to the floor when I see Rach opening her mouth up to speak, “They think that the person who is helping Neil is a friend of Brandon and Alexis.”
“Are you serious?” His eyes have grown wide. “No. No, that can’t be right.” He’s shaking his head. “What tests?”
I rest my head back against the wall and bring my gaze over on him, “Blood.” I answer, my voice tight, my mouth dry. “I had to draw up a list of everybody who’s been inside this house in the past twelve months so that they can compare each person’s DNA to the blood they found here.”
A buzzing sound drags his attention back to his cell and he lets out a sigh, “Shit.” Running his hand over his face, he starts to shake his head, looking conflicted about something. “Listen, I need to take off. Are you guys going to be alright until I can get back over here?”
I nod, watching him as he reaches for his jacket, and just as he goes to slip his arms inside the sleeves, I catch sight of some scratch marks on both of his upper arms, travelling higher up and underneath the short sleeves of his shirt.
‘It does seem highly possible that there was a struggle.’
‘We found some remnants of blood over by the fireplace.’
‘We believe that he may have an accomplice.’
‘Somebody both you, your wife, and he are all close to.’
No.
No.
Him?
Not Rye.
No. No, it can’t be.
It can’t …
It is.
It’s HIM!
“You son of a fucking bitch!” I growl out as I lunge forward, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and pushing him hard up against the wall before delivering the first blow to his right cheek. “You fuckin—!” And then another, this time a right uppercut to his jaw.
He’s trying to push me away from him, his eyes wide, as though he’s somehow surprised by my attack. Yeah. Yeah, alright. I fell for it once, but there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna let these assholes do this to me again. He lifts his hand and wipes his mouth, glancing down to assess the damage. Yep. Blood.
“Where the fuck is she?” I grab his shirt with the both of my hands and push him up harder against the wall, shaking him.
“Brandon!” I can vaguely hear Rach and only barely feel her trying to pry me away from him, but nothing’s gonna stop me this time and I bring my left arm back, ready to deliver the next strike. “Brandon! Stop! What the hell are you doing?”
Rye’s trying to speak, but because my right hand is now wrapped tight around his neck and blocking his airway, he’s unable to move; to speak. He should be thankful because he’s lucky that I’m allowing him to fucking breathe!
“B-B-Br—”Another jab, this time with my left hand hard into his ribs.
“You! You motherfucker!” I hiss, my jaw locked tight as he leans forward, trying to block me from getting another hit against his abdomen. “You lying, deceitful, motherfu—!”
The next thing I know, I’m being hauled away from him before I can take another swipe. I glace down and see a pair of hands on each of my arms, dragging me into the living room, further away from him. Rye keeps his gaze firmly trained on me, a disbelieving look in his eyes as he starts to cough and gasp for air.
Rach’s gaze is darting between the two of us and she’s looking upset, maybe even a little frightened. I then glance over the both of my shoulders and see the two detectives. There’s one of them on either side of me now, and their grip on me only loosens slightly. They’re wary. Well, they have every reason to be. They’re wondering if I’m gonna lash out again. Oh, I’m ready to. I’m so fucking ready to knock him down until he’s six feet under.
“What the hell, man?” Rye closes the distance between us, looking completely shocked by what I just did to him. Should he be? Should he be surprised? No. No, he shouldn’t be because he should’ve known that it would’ve only been a matter of time before I worked it all out. Put two and two together. Well, I just made fucking four. Without a doubt, he’s the other person responsible for what’s going on all around me. “What the fu—?”
“You!” I grind out, which makes him stop abruptly in his tracks. Believe me, that’s a good thing because if that traitor gets anywhere near me again, then I don’t think that even ten cops would be able to stop me from beating him into the ground. “You! You’ve been helping him this whole fucking time!” I point right at him, my eyes narrowing more so by the second.
“What?” Oh, he thinks that if he starts playing all innocent now then it’s gonna fool me? Fool any of us? Nope. Not this time.
“Don’t try and play dumb with me, Rye!”
“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re even talking about. Christ, man! I mean, what the actual fuck?”
And then it hits me.
“I didn’t put him on the list,” I whisper under my breath. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so fucking naive? I shake my head because I’m pissed. I’m pissed at him. Pissed at myself. Pissed at everything in this goddamn world that’s keeping me away from my beautiful wife. Everyone and everything that’s trying to rip us apart; trying to destroy the amazing life we live together; everything and everybody who keep trying to destroy us. “I didn’t put your name on the goddamn list because I trusted you! I fucking trusted you, but all of this time you’ve been on his fucking side! Working with him! Working against me!” I growl the words, the agony of his betrayal hitting me hard. I reach forward this time and go to take another swipe, but the cops grip a hold of my shoulders, holding me back and away from him again. They’re speaking, but I’m not hearing a word they’re saying. I don’t wanna hear what any of them have to say anymore.
“You think that I … Me?” He’s turning pale. Oh, he knows that I’m onto him. He knows that it isn’t gonna be long now. That it’s only gonna be a matter of time before he’s revealed for what he really is. “No, man. No. No, I would never! How the fuck could you even think for a second that I would?”
“Check his blood,” I say, my voice flat as I shrug the cops away from me and turn to face the other way. “Take his fucking blood and then make him tell us where they’ve been keeping my wife!”
“Mr. Taylor, you did not put his name on the list?” Detective Land asks. “I thought that we made it perfectly clear to you that it was essential to name every person you and your wife have had any dealings with over the past twelve months?”
“Are you serious? You’re going to have them take a sample?”
“What’s the matter, Rye? You got something to hide?” I snipe.
“Do you have a problem with us taking a sample, Mr. …?”
“McGregor. Ryan McGregor,” he answers. “And, yeah. Yeah, I do, but not for the reasons he’s thinking. I don’t have a problem with you taking my blood, in fact, I’d welcome it if I thought that it was going to help find Alex. Hell! I’d be the first to volunteer, but I just wish that it wasn’t because my best friend is doubting my love for him and his family. You’re wrong, man.” I hear him say, his voice weaker now. He starts to back away while shaking his head, making his way over to the doorway before pausing and glancing over his shoulder, his gaze meeting with mine. “You’re so fucking wrong.”
Chapter Nine
It’s her birthday. It’s Alexis’ birthday and she should be here, celebrating her special day with me and Holly; with her family. Instead, who knows where in the
hell she is. Two days. I promised that I would have her home within two days. What in the hell am I supposed to tell Holly now? Huh? She’s expecting her mommy to be here when she wakes up this morning.
Last night, before she went up to bed, she and Rach made Alexis’ favorite chocolate cake together using one of Alexis’ mom’s old recipes. We do the same every year without fail, and I guess that it made sense to do it again this year. If we didn’t, then it would be like admitting that she’s never gonna be coming home, and I can’t do that. I can’t allow myself to believe that she’s never gonna step back through the front door of our home again.
When Rach headed over to the store the other night, that’s what I asked her to pick up for me. She asked me if I needed to note down anything else, and I did. I added some baking ingredients and some candles to the list. I wanted her to get hold of some of the sparkling ones that are a bit like fireworks. Those ones are Alexis’ favorites.
Rach was hesitant, but she picked them up for me anyways. She did it because she could see how determined I was, how much I believed that Alexis would be back in time to spend her twenty-fifth birthday with us. Now, though? Well, I’m kinda losing hope here. For each second that passes by, my hope is fading, and my heart is slowly starting to break inside.
I glance over toward the coffee table and feel a wave of nausea overcome me when I see what’s sitting on the top of the glass shelf. They’re Alexis’ gifts and cards, placed in the center, waiting to be opened. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to put them there, for Holly’s sake more than anybody else’s, but it doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.
“Morning,” Rach whispers, and I immediately rake my gaze over to the door. She smiles when we make eye contact, and then takes a small and hesitant step inside the living room.
“Hi,” I say back, my voice hoarse as I rub my hands over my eyes, before stretching my arms and swinging my legs around until I’m sitting back up straight again.
“Did you manage to catch any sleep yet?” she asks, and I shake my head. Sleep? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Not until this is over. No matter how exhausted I feel or how mentally and emotionally drained I am, there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna be able to sleep until Alexis is back home.
“Diane called a few minutes ago,” she tells me as she takes a seat on the one opposite to mine. “They are thinking about letting Paul come home later today, most likely this evening.”
“Yeah? That’s great, Rach.”
“Brandon, Alyssa called … again.” Rach is holding her gaze on me, and I know what she’s thinking. She thinks that I’m in the wrong for not wanting to speak with Alyssa about Rye. After both he and the detectives left yesterday, Rach made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t believe that he would’ve had anything to do with any of this. But, how in the hell can I be wrong about this when everything seems to be pointing directly to him?
He had scratches on the both of his arms—the detectives told us that there was a struggle. He took the keys—the same keys that were the only thing that I didn’t have that I needed when Neil came here late that night. The photographs were taken inside the room—they told us that Alexis must’ve felt safe with whoever was in here with her. The phone call and messages before and after we went out for ice-cream yesterday? Well, that was most likely Neil giving him the heads up and warning him that Alexis had escaped; that he needed to get me away from the house in case she got here before he managed to catch up to her. I made it perfectly clear that I didn’t wanna leave, that I wanted to stay inside, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He used my daughter and my feelings of guilt against me. He knew that I was feeling bad about having to say no to her, and he took advantage. You see? All of these things point to him. Every. Single. Damn. One.
The living room door slowly opens, and standing inside the doorway is Holly. Her eyes are bright and she has the most angelic smile starting to appear over her face as she glances all around the room. Her eyes land on me, then over to Rach, and then she looks around some more until she realizes that we’re the only other two people besides her who are inside the room. My heart drops when she lowers her head, and my chest becomes tight when I witness her smile starting to slowly drain away from her perfect little face.
“Holly,” I say, tapping my knee for her to come and sit with me. “It’s still early yet.” The words leave my lips before I even have a chance to think about what the repercussions of what I’ve just said to her will be.
“Why isn’t she home?” she asks, looking right up at me when she comes to sit on my lap. “You promised that she would be home in time to open her gifts, Daddy.” My throat goes dry and I place my arm around her, lifting my hand to her face, bringing her closer to me while placing a kiss in her hair.
“I know I did,” I whisper, rocking her from side to side in my arms, my gaze resting over on Rach. “I know I did.”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Holly,” I say, placing my hand gently underneath her chin, bringing her face a little higher until her eyes meet with mine. “Why don’t you go and tell Auntie Rach what you want for breakfast, huh?” She nods before jumping down and heading over to sit on Rach’s lap, while I go to stand and make my way through to the hallway.
I glance to my wristwatch and see that it’s almost eight thirty.
Swinging the door open, my gut twists when the guy tries to hand them over to me. I hold my hand up and take a step away, shaking my head over and over again, backing away some more because there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna be accepting what he’s trying to deliver, “No!” I say, my voice strained as I slam the door back up in his face. Please God, no.
Yeah. Yeah, you know what he has. You know what they are. But, this time? This time they’re different.
This time, he met his promise.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Get outta here!” I spit out when I hear another three knocks on the front door, each one louder than the previous. “Take them the fuck away from here!” I grip my hair tight and keep backing away, my whole body now fully tensed.
“Brandon?” Rach comes straight out from the living room and her eyes are wide. “Brandon, what is it?” Her gaze darts between me and the front door, the worry evident over her entire face.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“I said get the fuc—!”
“Mr. Taylor?” I swallow, hard, and see Rach’s eyebrows furrow further as she keeps her gaze on me while making her way closer to the door.
“Detective Land,” she greets him, glancing over her shoulder at me, her worry evident as she steps to the side, allowing them both to get by her.
When they’re both standing inside the doorway, I head straight by them and out onto the porch, my breaths ragged. I look all around me, but he’s gone. The delivery guy. He went away. He went … he left them here.
“No. No, I don’t want them here!” I shout with desperation as I reach down to take a hold of the three wreaths. Throwing them away from the house, I step forward and kick at them, over and over again until they’re no longer recognizable; until I can no longer see those three letters, those exact letters that he taunted me with only yesterday. RIP.
“Brandon?” Rach grabs my face in her hands a few moments later, and I see right away that she has tears streaming down the both of her cheeks. “Brandon … I’m so sorry.” I feel my brow knit firmly together when she lowers her gaze to the ground, taking her hands away from me as she lifts them up to her mouth, sobbing harder now. She’s sorry? Why? What in the hell has she gotta be sorry about?
“Rach?” I twist around, now looking directly back inside the house. “Rach? What’s going on?” I try to read her by making her look my way, but she covers her hands over her face. I know her, just like she knows me. She knows that she can’t hide anything from me, and this is exactly why she won’t let me see her; read her. She won’t let me in.
“Mr. Taylor,” Detective Nicolson clears her throat and glances b
etween me and Rach until her gaze finally rests solely back on me. “There has been another development.”
My eyes flicker to Rach and she lets out another sob. They must’ve already told her what’s going on. They must’ve told her when I came out here, when I lost it. She must already know, and seeing her this upset is making me not wanna know what that new development is. Rach is usually the level headed one. The calmer one out of the two of us. She always has been and she always will be, but seeing her like this? Well, I haven’t seen her this hysterical over something for almost eight years.
“Daddy?” I swing back around when I hear Holly calling out to me. It takes me a second to respond, but I know that I can’t allow for Holly to see Rach like this. I take a couple of slow and deep breaths, and then make my way back up the steps and over to her.
“Holly, why don’t you go on upstairs and play with your princess tower for a little while,” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders, turning her around and steering her back inside the house. “Go on up to your room and I’ll be up in a few minutes.” She nods and then makes her way toward the stairs as I turn back around.
If I hadn’t brought Holly back inside when I did then she would’ve seen her Auntie Rach upset, and that’s not something that I really want my daughter to be seeing. These past couple of days have been hard enough on her as it is without her needing to be any more upset over all of this.
The three of them are making their way back inside, Rach not once making eye contact with me as she goes to walk back through to the living room.
“What’s going on?” I ask, placing my hand out to stop the male detective from getting by me. “What did you say to her?” I fire my questions at him, my voice tight as I lift my head a little higher. He stares right at me, and continues to study me for a couple of seconds longer before he finally opens his mouth up to speak.
“Mr. Taylor, there really is no easy way to say this,” he finally answers me, his tone flat, though I can see the sadness within his own eyes as he speaks the words; the ones that I was so desperate to never have to hear. “A woman’s body was found in the early hours of this morning.”
Mistaken Hope Page 9
