Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
KINCAID
The noise from the crowd grows in the final minutes before kick-off. The atmosphere in the locker room slowly alters from our previous teasing. Ezra and Aidan are missing in action, and their lateness is wearing on all our nerves.
I poke my head outside for any sign of them and can’t see them in the people milling outside the door.
When I scan the stands, there’s no sign of them or of Francesca. I cross back to my locker, pulling out my phone to check for any missed messages, finding nothing. When I try my cousin’s number it goes straight to voicemail.
I stare at the floor, rubbing my forehead. Most likely, their absence is connected to the recording I gave Ezra on Friday, but how he’s chosen to use it is less obvious.
“Earth to King,” Jared calls, waving his hands like it’s not the first time. “Are they coming soon?”
He stands by the exit door leading onto the field and even from here, I wince at the sharp tang of spirits on his breath.
“Is who coming?”
“Ezra,” he says with an eyeroll. “Or Aidan for that matter. We’re due for kick-off in five minutes, and they’re not here or out on the field.”
“They’re probably hooking up,” Coxey calls with a grin. “King and the redhead aren’t the only ones in the first flushes of true love.”
“Shut your mouth, dickhead.” I open my locker and pull out my phone again, not expecting anything.
Coach Jenkins walks into the room with Ezra trailing behind and another kid whose name I can’t remember. He claps his hands for attention. “Change of lineup. Ezra is subbing in as first five-eighth, and Baz from the B squad will fill his position for today’s match.”
We all look at each other, and I’m the one who asks, “Where’s Aidan?”
“He won’t be rejoining us.” Coach’s voice clearly communicates he won’t entertain any further discussion. “Take a minute if you need to, then get out on the field. We don’t want to hand an advantage to the opposition.”
“Any more than we already have,” Jared mutters.
Normally I would nod in agreement, but my reflexes are all out of whack. I raise my eyebrows at Ezra, and he gives a single nod, his expression otherwise unreadable. It’s an effort to move through the door, my body turning to autopilot the moment my cleats hit the pitch.
It’s just fallout from the video. Nothing more than that. No reason at all to be worried.
But as I take my position on the field, my heart thunders like it’s midway through a game. My thighs tremble.
Francesca still isn’t in the stands.
Then the ref calls me over for the coin toss, and I push everything out of my mind to focus on the game.
* * *
At halftime, I scan the bleachers, senses on alert when I can’t see Francesca. Rather than sit, I pace the length of the team bench, ignoring every interested catcall from the lineup, the pressure mounting in my head.
She should be back from the car by now, sitting in the stands, wrapped in a rug or changed back to her uniform.
Another circuit of the benches and I check the time again. Two minutes.
I want to scream with impatience.
“Look alive,” Jared yells, racing from the changing rooms and throwing a ball at my head. I catch it and bare my teeth at him, not in the mood, but he doesn’t let it dissuade him.
“Come on,” he wheedles. “Pass it back. You were checked out for most of the first half. We can cover Aidan’s abrupt disappearance, but we can’t afford to lose you, too.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Not in spirit. Should I get Ezra to give you a rousing speech?”
“I would rather slit my throat.”
“Good talk.”
This time when he passes the ball to me, I tuck it under my arm, refusing to throw it back.
“Two-minute call,” Coach yells. “Focus your attention on their weak back line.” He points a finger at Coxey. “And the ref mightn’t have called you on that high tackle, but don’t think I didn’t notice. Try that again, and I’ll bench you until the next round robin.”
There are the usual good-natured groans, coming out a little sharper today because of the added pressure.
“Francesca still not there?” Jared asks, clocking my worried expression. “She can’t be far away.”
She shouldn’t be. But I still haven’t caught sight of her at all.
I mumble an excuse and rush into the changing rooms, grabbing my phone from the locker. When I sign into the tracking system shows her miles away. Not here. Not either of our homes. I enlarge the map and my heart sets like concrete.
She’s at the airport.
I dial and the phone rings, then goes to voicemail. “Please call me back when you get this,” I say, then send a text for good measure.
King
Where are you???
“Come on, come on, come on,” I mutter, the incantation proving useless.
I try another call and get the same response.
“Get onto the field, Tana,” Coach yells from the doorway. “Don’t test me. Not today.”
“Coming.”
Perhaps her mother came back to town. Maybe an old friend reconnected. My stomach sinks, dismissing the ideas as pure foolishness as I try her number again.
“Pick up the bloody phone, Francesca,” I yell into the device, squeezing it tightly enough to make the casing bend, scared if I don’t hold onto it as hard as I can, it’ll end up smashed to pieces on the floor.
I reset the tracking system, watching it connect again with agonising slowness.
“Tana! Get your arse out here!”
I ignore Coach, barely hearing him over the loud thump of my pulse in my eardrums. Finally, the tracker reconnects. It shows her in the same location, outside the domestic terminal.
She only went on her first flight on Sunday. Why would she be at the airport?
I’m out the door before I can draw another breath. Something’s wrong. Something has gone so very, very wrong.
“Finally,” Coach grumbles as I dart straight past him, stripping off my jersey and thrusting it at Jared.
“You’re the team captain for the second half.”
When I turn, he grabs my upper arm. “What do you mean? A new selector’s here. This is your opportunity as much as it is Ezra’s.”
“I need to go.”
“Coach!”
The man hurries over. “Come on, King. It’s just nerves. We all get them.” He tries to clap my shoulder, and I have to clench my hands not to slap him away.
Ignoring him, I speak hurriedly to Jared. “Tell Ezra to use the same opening as our match against Holderbrook last summer. The team won’t expect—”
“What are you talking about?” Jared shoves the captain’s jersey straight back at me. “You can’t leave. Not when you make the whole team look better. The selector’s in the front row.”
“Then you’ll be able to make a great impression.” I catch his shoulders, holding him square while I look him in the eye. “You’ve got this.”
“No.”
Coach Jenkins approaches me with more caution. “I don’t know what’s going down with you outside the game, but it’s time to pause and think. This is the opportunity you’ve been working towards, and you’re lucky to have another shot after last week’s performance. Chances like this don’t come along every day.”
“Listen to him,” Jared pleads, looking paler by the second. “Whatever you’re planning, a few hours won’t make any difference.”
It hurts to say the words. To put a voice to my fears. “Something’s happening with Francesca. I need to go and get my girl.”
When I draw back, he scrutinises my face, then nods, and I can breathe easier.
“Ezra is desperate to impress so he’ll be in top form, and he’ll love the fact I’m not here. Use it.”
“Fine,” he snaps, swapping jerseys. “But you’d better bring it next Wednesday.”
Coach is now redder than a beetroot. “You’re not bringing anything next Wednesday. If you leave now, you’re off the fucking team, and I don’t give a damn who your uncle is.”
I’ve never cared less in my life. “Language.”
His expression turns so thunderous I think he’s going to hit me, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if I never play for the school again.
The last ten minutes have given me complete clarity on what’s important and what I can let slide. Rugby is nothing but a game to me.
Francesca is my life.
* * *
It doesn’t take long to find the phone, in the bin along with the keys to the car she left parked nearby. The moment I do, I phone Tyson, still scared that something’s happened, someone’s taken her at gunpoint, forcing her to abandon her vehicle before jumping on a plane.
Without an idea of where she’s gone, I go home, watching over Tyson’s shoulder as he connects the various CCTV feeds, building a picture of her movements throughout the afternoon.
And with each frame, my heart sinks further. The hole widens, each healed stitch popping open until I’m engulfed by the old emptiness.
There is no third party.
Francesca is on her own.
The cameras at the end of her street show her car passing on the way home, then returning a short time later, just long enough for her to have packed a bag. She has one with her on the airport feeds, and I watch as she ditches the car keys, walks to the stop for the shuttle, then walks back to throw away her phone.
A man approaches. The only contact before she gets on the bus, and I have Tyson zoom in on their interaction from every angle possible.
I simultaneously need her to be safe but some dull animalistic part of me wants him to be threatening her.
It would make it all so much easier to bear.
But it’s nothing. He says a few words while she stands there, frozen, then she jerks away and moves back to the shuttle stop, boarding the bus a moment later.
The feeds inside the bus station aren’t in the right place to catch her route number. She could be travelling to one of seven different destinations or be getting off at any stop along the way.
Too many options for our surveillance staff to handle.
I’ve lost her.
I might never have had her at all.
When Tyson calls for a break, I visit the kitchen, holding the fridge door open while I glance from the bottles of water to the beer and back again, unable to decide.
Ezra walks into the room and hesitates like he’d prefer to walk straight back out again. It’s only when Onyx comes up behind him, that he fully commits, walking to the table with a sigh. “Hey, I heard something after the game today.”
My gaze flicks to him, then away. “I couldn’t give two shits about the game.”
“Yeah, okay. But it’s… Aidan was with Francesca in the car park this afternoon.”
I slam the fridge shut, giving him my full attention. “And? Was he pressuring her to get back onto the team?”
“No, he said you threatened to knife her if he ever came near her again.”
Onyx splutters out a laugh. “Dude! And I thought I was sick.”
I dismiss him with a flick of my hand, closing in on Ezra. “He told you that? When?”
“No, he told Francesca that. Is it true?”
A cold shiver spreads across my shoulders, wriggling along my spine. I can’t believe I’ve been this careless.
I run back to Tyson’s room. “Any progress?”
“Nothing from ten minutes ago.” He spins on his chair, frowning at me. “You can trace her bracelet, can’t you?”
I nod. There’s a device built into the ladybug bracelet but it has one prominent drawback. Once activated, it only has a few hours of life due to the tiny battery. If she’s still on the move, it’s useless.
And there’s another truth that’s harder to face. Another reason I don’t activate the tracker despite desperately wanting to know where she is.
She left.
Whether it was Aidan’s words this afternoon or proof that the only thing holding her here was the body in her deep freeze, it doesn’t matter.
Re-examining everything, the signs are obvious. Her interest in me piqued when I mentioned body disposal, and once the corpse was gone, she simply bided her time until she had a clear shot at leaving.
I told her to give me a girlfriend experience, and it turns out Francesca was a far better actress than I gave her credit.
All the times I held her in my arms and felt like we were two sides of the same person. Every night I listened to her fall asleep, her breaths knitting closed the old wounds in my soul. For all that it felt like she was the perfect girl, my soulmate, someone to build a life with.
None of it was ever real.
I was hers but she was never, ever mine.