Chapter 39
RAPHAEL
Ipaced. It was inefficient. I was aware of that. I did it anyway.
Her message sat open on my phone.
What the fuck did you do?
No follow-up. No response to my calls. No indication of where she was beyond that single, sharp line of anger. She should have been home by now. Or at least she should have answered.
The storm had been building all day, and now it had settled into something relentless. Rain lashed against the windows, wind pushing hard enough to rattle the glass. Thunder rolled low and constant, like a warning that refused to quiet.
I hate storms. The idea of her being out in this while she was angry had me barely hanging on. She had to be okay. She would be okay.
Another flash of light before the windows rattled with the thunder.
My mind raced. Rain. Low visibility. A road slick enough to turn one mistake into finality.
The night Elise and our daughter— I cut the thought off.
I had spent years containing that memory.
But tonight it pressed closer than usual. Because Belle was out there. On the road, alone in this.
I called again.
Voicemail.
My jaw tightened.
This was no longer about patience. It was about safety. I looked down at my phone again. There was a line here. I knew it. Trust had already been strained. Control had already been questioned. Tracking her location would confirm every fear she had voiced.
I hesitated, just for a moment. Then I moved. She was not answering, and the storm was worsening. I would not be the man who waited again.
Her location loaded quickly.
A diner, on the edge of town.
I did not question it. I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. I was going to find her.
The diner came into view through the storm, neon flickering against sheets of rain.
I pulled into the lot too fast, tires slipping slightly on pooled water before catching. I didn’t see her van. I pulled out my phone to check one more time, but then I saw him.
Tripp Whitaker. He was sitting in his car with one hand pressed to his face.
I didn’t think, I moved.
I crossed the lot in seconds, rain soaking through my shirt as I slammed my hand against his window.
“Open it,” I growled.
He flinched. I yank the door open.
“Where is she?”
He shrank back in the seat, eyes wide.
“Are you going to hit me, too?”
I reached into the car and pulled him out, slamming him against it.
“Where. Is. She?”
“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “She—she ran out—”
“Where?”
He gestures blindly toward the back of the building.
“The woods—her dad—he wandered and she—”
I was already turning away.
He was a useless human. Completely useless.
I head back toward my car, scanning the lot again, as if she might suddenly appear between the vehicles. I checked her location, and she was up on the bluff, not too far from here.
The thought of her driving into the woods, in this weather, had my pulse racing.
I do not like this. Not at all.