Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Noah
Richard stands near the school entrance, phone pressed to his ear, scanning the parking lot for Jessica. I don’t wait to hear what excuse she’ll give him. When Alicia and Stella are buckled in, I step aside to make my own call, pacing toward the shadows at the lot’s edge.
Hudson answers on the first ring.
“Jessica’s tipped off,” I say, skipping the greeting. “She heard Danny’s name, realized we’re connecting dots, and bolted. Didn’t even say goodbye to Richard. He’s looking for her now.”
Hudson exhales sharply. “So Richard’s not involved.” It’s not quite a question.
“Yeah.” I grind my teeth. “Danny’s name meant nothing to him. He wasn’t even listening—too busy glaring at me for existing near his ex-wife.”
“Our plan was to loop in the detectives in the morning,” Hudson says. “But let me get ahead of this. I’ll send Jake to Jessica’s—keep eyes on her movements.” A pause. “And I’ll call Luca.”
“Good.” I glance toward the car where Alicia’s silhouette moves in the soft glow of the dashboard as she and Stella settle in. “I’m going to drive Alicia and Stella home.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
Later, when Alicia and Stella are upstairs—laughing at play photos making their way through group chats—my phone buzzes.
Jake.
I step into the foyer and answer. “Talk to me.”
“No lights on,” he says. “No car in the drive. No sign she’s home. Back door’s ajar.”
“You in her yard?” My hand tightens on the phone.
“Townhouse. Tall hedges. If someone spots me, I’ll play lost visitor.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter. “I try that, cops get called before I reach the door.”
Jake snorts. “Daisy cut my hair. If I had my long hair, they’d call the cops on me too. Trust.”
A faint creak comes through the line.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Switching to earbud. Going in.”
“Wait,” I snap. “You’re supposed to be observing, not going full breach. Wait for me.”
“Nah. Just stay on the line.” His voice drops low. “You gotta stay there, man. We don’t know where this chick went.”
He’s right. And that’s the problem.
“Downstairs is pretty sparse,” he narrates. “Lots of journals. Books. She’s got a medical fetish.”
“She’s in pharmaceutical sales,” I say. “Did you turn on the light?”
“Nope. Using my phone.”
Pages rustle. His breath shifts.
“Fridge is barren.”
“Fits,” I say. “Stella said she practically lives at Richard’s.”
“I’m going up the stairs.”
I start pacing the length of the foyer, the dread settling slow and heavy. This is wrong. He needs backup. I should be there. Every instinct I have is screaming that this is a trap waiting to spring.
I flip open my laptop on the hallway console.
“I’m letting the team know where you are.”
“Copy. Tell them I’m solo.”
That’s the part I hate.
I type fast:
Jake at Jessica’s townhome. Back door open. No sign of her. He’s inside—no backup.
Quinn’s reply is instant.
Quinn: Where are you?
Me: Alicia’s. Jessica’s whereabouts unknown.
I grit my teeth. I hate being benched. Hate that Jake might be walking into something we haven’t mapped.
Quinn: Gabe’s on his way.
Me: Jake’s using his phone as a light.
“Her room now,” Jake says, his voice tight through the earbud connection. “Looks like she left in a hurry. Drawers open. Toiletries missing.”
A cold certainty settles in my gut.
Me to team: Drawers open. Toiletries gone. She’s running.
“Gabriel’s on his way,” I tell Jake.
“I’m backing out,” he says. “No one’s here. She’s gone.”
Me to team: Jake’s backing out. Place empty.
My phone buzzes again.
Quinn: Alicia’s security cameras just went offline.
My blood goes cold.
My fingers fly across the laptop keyboard, pulling up the security feed.
Every angle.
Every camera.
Black.
Like someone flipped a switch. Or cut the power from the inside.
“Jake,” I say, voice tight. “How fast can you get here?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
I’m already moving toward the stairs, reaching for my weapon, every nerve on high alert.