by Liza Street
“Really?” She hadn’t seemed sick at all yesterday.
Penny wouldn’t let him hold her hand and had once told him in no uncertain terms that she was “too old for that shit.” Rafe had raised an eyebrow and said if he heard that word come out of her mouth again, he’d tell Mom. Rafe didn’t have a problem with swearing in general—in fact, he relished a good, well-placed f-bomb, but it didn’t sound right coming from a kid.
The hand-holding, swearing discussion had taken place earlier in the school year, right after Penny had been adopted. She’d been angry, scared.
Now Penny didn’t have anger or fear to hide behind tough-talk and swear words.
As they walked across the parking lot to his truck, Rafe kept his ears open. Two women in slacks and button-down shirts were circulating through the crowd, talking to one teacher after another. The women looked official in some way that raised Rafe’s suspicions. Their voices were quiet, as if they didn’t want to be overheard.
“Hey, Pen? Can you pretend you forgot something in your locker?”
“We don’t have lockers, doofus.”
“In your classroom, then?”
She gave him a strange look. “I told you Ms. Mayfair isn’t here.”
“I know, but I think something’s up.”
Penny nodded. She’d probably grill him about it later, but she was too in tune with his emotions to insist on an explanation now.
Rafe walked to the main building and stood as if waiting for Penny. It put him much closer to one of the teachers, a guy he didn’t think the women had spoken with yet.
After a minute, the two women approached the teacher near Rafe. “We don’t want to alarm anyone,” the silver-haired woman said, “but I’m Detective Rosings and this is Detective Mack. We’re here about Brigitte Mayfair.”
The teacher nodded. “I don’t know where she is,” he said, “but it’s really weird for her to not show up like this.”
“Everything’s in order at her apartment,” Detective Rosings said, “so we’ve been asking everyone. Your name, please?”
“Dale Weston.”
“When was the last time you saw Ms. Mayfair?”
“Yesterday. I, uh, went by her office before I left campus.”
“Is that usual for you?”
He nodded, and Rafe noticed his cheeks turning slightly pink.
Detective Mack, the younger of the detectives, cocked her head, considering the man. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
“It’s embarrassing,” Weston said.
Both detectives looked at him, their faces blank and expectant. They’d probably heard everything.
“I finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. I’ve been stopping by every day for weeks, to say hi. Yesterday, I asked.”
“And what did she say?” Detective Mack asked.
Weston hung his head. “She said no, of course.”
Detective Mack stepped closer to him. “Did that make you angry, Mr. Weston?”
Rafe felt himself leaning toward them. He’d kill Weston if he so much as laid a finger on Brigitte.
“What? No!” Weston looked around, as if suddenly remembering the students and parents still lingering in front of the school. “No. I knew I only had a snowball’s chance. I mean, look at me, look at her. I’m a four on a good day, she’s a solid ten. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try, though. Of course she said no. I said goodbye, went home. I haven’t seen her since.”
Rafe believed him—he could sense a lie better than any polygraph test. The detectives seemed a little more skeptical, but they took down his contact info and moved on to the next teacher.
Detective Rosings’s cell phone rang, and she spoke quietly into it. “Car’s not here at the school. Yes, we already hit her place on Alpine. It’s all in order. A few more teachers to talk to, then we’re coming back to the station.”
It was exactly what Rafe needed to help find Brigitte—he could start at her apartment and search for clues.
First, though, he had a milkshake to buy.
*
“You look really intense,” Penny said as they pulled into the lot beside Dristan’s Deli.
“I’m worried about Brig—Ms. Mayfair,” he said.
“So she’s not sick?”
“I don’t know.” He wanted to get over to Brigitte’s place as soon as possible, sniff for things the detectives wouldn’t have been able to find.
If she’d been kidnapped, she was probably terrified. He didn’t want to think about her being scared.
“Why don’t you leave me here with Dristan and Laura?” Penny asked. “They can get me home.”
The forty-minute drive over the mountain to their parents’ house, then the forty minutes back, was more time than Rafe wanted to spend driving, especially when he wanted to find Brigitte. He wished his parents hadn’t been so insistent on changing Penny’s school district, but they’d wanted her to attend a school that celebrated diversity. Then again, if they hadn’t changed districts, he’d never have met Brigitte.
Brigitte, who was gone before he’d gotten to know her.
“Yeah, okay,” Rafe said. “We’ll ask them.”
Laura’s smile was bright when they walked in. She was currently behind the counter, filching a cupcake from the display. “Day-old,” she explained. “It’s fair game now.”
“Why do I have the sense you’ve been watching that particular cupcake and waiting for its twenty-four hours to expire?” Dristan called from the back room.
Laura laughed. “He’s right,” she said conspiratorially to Penny. “When the bakery delivered them yesterday, I only had eyes for this cupcake. I think Dristan’s jealous.”
“The day I’m jealous of a cupcake is the day I—oh, hey, Penny,” Dristan said, coming out of the back. “Back for another milkshake?”
Laura looked between Penny and Rafe. “So what intel do you have on your brother, here? This is clearly a case of blackmail.”
Rafe shook his head. This was going nowhere good.
“Uh…” Penny couldn’t lie, because they’d all know. But if she told the truth, no more milkshakes.
Laura laughed. “Oh, it must be good. Exactly how many milkshakes is this secret worth?”
Penny paused. “Ten.”
“I’ll give you twenty,” Dristan said.
“Oh, hell no,” Rafe said.
Dristan and Laura cracked up, and Penny giggled, too. He was so screwed. Then he sobered. He had to find Brigitte. Had to. “Guys, can you take Penny back to the resort for me?”
Laura’s laughter stopped. “Yeah, of course. Something going on with CMR?”
“No. At least, not yet. I just gotta do something. Thanks.” He spun and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Penny called.
When he stopped, she trotted over and threw her arms around him. “Good luck,” she said. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
He looked into her guileless deep blue eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Pen.”
Five
Rafe found Alpine Street. He stopped at one end and climbed out of his Pathfinder. He hadn’t overheard an address number, so that meant some footwork. Thankfully Alpine Street wasn’t much more than a mile long.
After walking and sniffing the air as surreptitiously as possible, he found it—the mingling scents of Detectives Rosings and Mack, as well as a very faint trace of Brigitte.
Her apartment complex was decent, but far from nice. How much did a school principal make, anyway? Surely more than this. He wondered why she was living so frugally.
He walked into the complex, which was an open plan—every unit with a door leading outside. Once he reached a door with a concentration of Brigitte’s scent, and the scents of the detectives, he paused. The question now was, how would he get in?
The curtains moved in the unit next to Brigitte’s. Shit, he’d been seen. Maybe he could come back tonight, sneak in through a window.
The door to the other apartment opened.
“You there!”
The old man’s voice was thick with accusation. Rafe started to walk away.
“What are you doing?” the man yelled.
Rafe could tell from his tone that the shouting would only get louder if Rafe tried to run. He turned around and faced the man. “Trying to find Brigitte,” he answered.
“And you think you can do that when the detectives can’t?” The man had bushy white eyebrows that moved high up on his forehead with the question.
“Hoping so,” Rafe said.
The man looked him up and down. “You ain’t lying. Here, I’ll let you into her place.”
Rafe stared at him. “That’s not—”
“You wanna help her or not?”
“I do,” Rafe said, puzzled. “But why do you trust me?”
“Got a sense about people.”
Rafe shrugged. He wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to get in there and find out what happened to Brigitte.
The man came back with a key and opened Brigitte’s apartment door. “She gave me the key to water her plants last time she had a conference or training or whatever it was. Told me to keep it in case of emergency. I think this qualifies, her disappearing like the detectives told me.”
“Thanks,” Rafe said, holding out a hand.
The man shook it, turned around, and went back to his own place.
Rafe stepped inside Brigitte’s apartment, filling his nose with her scent. He couldn’t quite place what she smelled like—some heavenly mix of fruit and spice. Shaking his head, because he couldn’t afford to get distracted, and besides, he wasn’t some creep who came into women’s apartments to smell them, he moved through the living room to the kitchen counter. A short pile of mail had been stacked neatly. He thumbed through the envelopes. Bills, it looked like. Nothing personal.
The living room was clean, sparsely decorated. A huge fern hung from the ceiling, and some herbs flourished in the window. The sofa and coffee table looked new, and Rafe wondered how long Brigitte had lived in Belnedge.
There was no sign or scent that anyone except Brigitte and the detectives had been in here. Nothing looked as if it had been hurriedly packed or rifled through, either. With a sinking feeling, he moved to the bedroom.
A queen bed took up most of the tiny room. Brigitte had chosen a deep blue bedspread studded with white stars. The bed itself looked warm and inviting, but the colors she’d chosen were cool, a little distant. Much like Brigitte herself.
Suddenly it struck Rafe—she was sad.
Sad enough to pack a few things and leave this place? Sad enough to take off in her car…sad enough to take her own life?
No, he hadn’t gotten that sense from her, either. Depression was an illness, and she’d seemed perfectly healthy when he’d spoken to her. There was something else making her sad.
When he found her, he’d do everything in his power to help her feel happy again.
He opened a couple of low drawers, not wanting to see anything he shouldn’t, then he peeked in her closet. The drawers and closet were full of clothes…so where was Brigitte? Where was her car?
*
The text from Laura allowed no argument. It’s Country Night. Meet us at Hart’s at nine.
Rafe decided to go, at least for a little while. He owed Laura and Dristan that much, after they’d taken care of Penny for him.
When he arrived in the dirt lot outside the old farmhouse-turned-bar, he saw Mateo’s truck, Dristan’s Jeep, Nina’s old Ford, and Fraze’s ancient Mustang. Looked like the gang was all here.
Fuck.
Laura and Dristan hadn’t said anything about the rest of their friends joining them, and he wasn’t in the mood to socialize. He loved their little pride-within-a-pride, but there was too much going on. Still, if he ignored them now, they’d never let him be. They’d probably come knocking on his cabin door, demanding answers. It almost made him want to move back to his parents’ lodge in Maxon.
He opened the door to Hart’s and let the familiar scents of beer, bodies, and pool tables wash over him. Laura, Nina, Fraze, and Dristan were at a table in one corner, and Rafe’s brother Mateo, and Mateo’s mate Justine, were playing pool.
Rafe grabbed a beer from the bar and made his way over to his friends at the table.
“Rafe!” Nina said, jumping up to hug him. “Come sit by me—Dristan’s making fun of my blog and I need some support.”
He hugged her back, absently, and slid into the chair nearest hers.
“Your blog?” Rafe asked.
“I review books,” Nina said. “Romance novels.”
Laura elbowed Dristan. “And she’s really good at it, so shut up, D.”
Dristan held his hands up. “Didn’t say she wasn’t.”
Nina gave him a dirty look, and gulped the rest of her martini. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading for the bar. “Anyone want anything?”
“Just a decent book review,” Dristan teased.
Laura tried to elbow him again, but Dristan grabbed her arm and pulled her into his lap for a kiss.
Rafe looked over at Fraze. “They like this a lot now?”
“Every damn day.” Fraze sighed.
Not too long ago, Laura and Dristan had finally gotten together—and not only that, they’d given each other mate marks to prove to the pride that they were in it for the long haul. Rafe was happy for them, but seeing them so happy made him wish he’d had more of a chance with Brigitte. Would she ever come back?
Next to him, Fraze sipped some sweet drink that Rafe wouldn’t be caught dead drinking. It seemed like Fraze didn’t really want to talk, either, which was fine with Rafe.
A few minutes later, one of Rafe’s favorite country songs came on the jukebox, Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying.” Chills raced over Rafe’s neck, and he covered his discomfort by taking a sip of beer. After Mickey’s death, Rafe had vowed to never ignore a problem again. If the signs of disaster were there, he had to be prepared, and he had to act.
Signs of disaster were there. No smart, successful woman just up and took off.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said, setting down his beer.
At that moment, Nina sashayed back, her slender hips swaying to the music, her t-shirt hugging her chest.
“Dance with me, Rafe,” she said, lifting her wavy hair up and letting it fall again.
“Sorry, I have to run.”
Nina blew out an exasperated puff of air. “One dance, okay? Then you can run off to your Sulk Station or whatever they call the CMR place these days.”
Sulk Station? Rafe stared at her.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand.
“I’m not dancing, okay?” Rafe snapped. He pulled away from her grip.
Nina’s hazel eyes grew wide. “Damn, cowboy.”
“Sorry,” he said, but it didn’t erase the hurt on her face.
“No arguments,” Fraze said, standing up and taking Nina’s arm. “You’re dancing with me, hot stuff.”
Nina and Fraze walked away and embraced on a clear patch of floor near one of the pool tables. Good riddance—Rafe couldn’t stand being around so many people right now.
Then Dristan reached over and smacked Rafe on the back of the head. “What the hell, Rafe?” Dristan said. “Why were you such an asshole to her?”
“What?” Rafe said. “I didn’t want to dance. She wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“She put on that shitty song for you,” Laura said.
Uh oh. It was her protective big sister voice.
“I said I was sorry,” Rafe said. “And I am. I’m sorry I don’t want to dance and I don’t really want to socialize.”
“Tell us what’s going on,” Laura said. Her green eyes were still flashing with anger, but she had at least adopted an understanding tone.
Rafe felt his shoulders relax. “Someone’s missing, and I feel like I have to find her.”
“Her?” Dristan asked, raising his eyebrows.
> “Principal at Penny’s school.”
“Isn’t the CMR on it?” Laura asked.
“No…the detectives are looking into it right now.”
“So she’s not missing because she got lost on a hike, I take it,” Laura said.
“No,” Rafe said loudly, exasperated. “She’s a woman who disappeared, along with her car, from her place of work. I can’t stay here anymore. Sorry.”
He turned his back on his friends, and on Nina and Fraze who were now lip-locked, leaning against one of the large wooden beams in the center of the room. He gave a short wave to Mateo and Justine, and left.
*
Rafe couldn’t go back to his little cabin and relax in comfort. That had been his intent when he left Hart’s—just get out of there, go home, make a plan.
Instead, he headed over to the school. The parking lot was empty—it was after midnight and everyone was long gone. He parked on the outer edge and started walking across the asphalt. His boots made soft sounds with each step, in time with the swearing he kept up in his mind. Where had Brigitte been parked? Would he be able to scent her car?
Of course not—this was a dumbass thing to do. No cat’s nose was powerful enough to search a parking lot. It was different from the apartment complex. Here, there wouldn’t be any concentrated scents until she’d camped out in one place. He wandered around anyway.
Was it creepy and weird to miss a woman he didn’t really know? He decided it was creepy and weird. Everything about her had screamed fuck off, so he was out of line chasing after her like this. He wanted her to be safe, though.
Well, he’d make sure she was safe and then he’d back the fuck off. Even if it killed him.
His phone buzzed within his coat pocket. What the hell, bro. You hurt Nina’s feelings.
Ugh, it was Mateo. Rafe decided to ignore his brother—nothing good ever came of their arguments, and it had only been in the last year they’d started getting along again.
Would it have killed you to dance with her? And L says there’s some other girl you’re chasing now?
Some other girl? There hadn’t been a first girl. Brigitte was the only girl he’d been chasing.
Three little dots showed that Mateo was typing out another message. Eager to end this before it got too out of hand, Rafe typed out, I said I was sorry, and I am. What more do you want me to do?
