34. Logan
34
LOGAN
T he final buzzer blares, the loud noise echoing through the stadium as the Huskies clinch their victory. A wave of euphoria surges through me as I chest bump Gavin, both of us grinning behind our helmets. Before I know it, we’re surrounded by the rest of the team, everyone piling on top of one another in a chaotic, joyous dog pile. Feeling the weight and warmth of their bodies pressing against mine, I suck in a breath and howl. The others follow suit, the entire rink coming alive with the sound. It’s our final game of the regular season—or it would be if we weren’t top of our conference. Frozen Four, here we come, baby!
Finally extricating myself from the tangle of limbs, I get to my feet. My eyes seek out the familiar spot where Riley, Aurora, and Royce had been sitting. The arena is quickly emptying as fans stream toward the exit, and it takes me a moment to spot their empty seats.
My lips tug down in a frown. I’d wanted to see Shortcake’s smile at our win and the excitement on Aurora’s face, even though she doesn’t really understand what’s happening. That’s the only prize I care about. Shaking off my disappointment, I skate toward the edge of the rink, eager to celebrate with them.
Stomping off the ice, I make my way to the locker room, each step filled with triumph and anticipation. Once upon a time, that excitement was to hang out with the team and celebrate our win. Now, the only celebrating I want to do is milkshakes at my favorite dinner with the most amazing kid in the world, or the naked kind in my bed with a certain redhead. A smirk tilts my lips as I recall our filthy foursome. I’d definitely be down for a repeat performance. Or perhaps I can convince Royce to babysit Aurora while me and Riley get hot and heavy in the treatment room again.
Reaching my locker, I snatch up my phone. My fingers fumble slightly from the lingering adrenaline before I manage to unlock it. There is a message from Royce, likely informing me they’re waiting in the foyer.
Royce
Ducking out to talk to Grayson. Left the girls alone. Told Riley to stay in her seat until I was back. If you finish first, stay with her till I get there.
Brows furrowing, a niggling worry tickles the hairs on the back of my arms.
Both of their seats were empty when I left the ice.
The sweat clinging to my skin chills, and without a second thought, I shuck off my jersey, pads, and skates, forgoing a shower as I dial Riley’s phone while hastily pulling on my clothes. It rings out, and I redial as I race for the door, ignoring my teammates calling my name.
When she doesn’t answer for a second time, I call Royce while I jog down the tunnel back into the now-empty arena. The line doesn’t even fully ring before he picks up, and the cheering crowd in the background practically deafens me.
“I’m coming!”
A cold spike of panic shoots through me, and ignoring the buzzing of the Zamboni, my focus is drilled on Riley’s empty chair as I make a beeline for it.
“Royce.” I have to yell to ensure he hears me. “Do you have Riley?” My voice is edged with fear as I march down her row.
“No. I was on the phone with Gray. She should be in her seat.”
“She’s not here!” I shout, panic rising in my throat like bile. “Their seats are empty.”
There is a brief silence. I hear Royce curse at the end of the line. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”
I’m only half listening as I reach their vacant seats, turning on the spot but not finding anything out of the ordinary. They’re just… gone.
Staring down at my phone, I navigate to the app that enables me to track her phone. We all have it. Grayson insisted on it as a precaution, although I’ve never had to use it until now.
It says her location is still in the stadium, and I frown, zooming in on the blue dot. The relief nearly takes me to my knees when I realize she’s in the bathroom.
“It’s fine,” I tell Royce. “They’re in the bathroom. Aurora probably had to go.”
“Which one?” he barks, not sounding the least bit reassured.
“The one right outside the entrance to where you were sitting.” I climb the steps, intending to meet him there.
Standing in front of the bathroom, I knock on the door, calling Riley’s name through it. When I don’t get a response, I poke my head in, frowning when I find it empty. That relief I was feeling becomes acid in my stomach when I notice Riley’s phone sitting by the sink and her and Aurora’s belongings piled on the floor beneath it.
Fuck. Fuck.
Why is her phone here? Where is she?
Grabbing it, I fist the device, surprised that the plastic doesn’t crack beneath my grip. The door slams open behind me, and I whirl as Royce storms into the bathroom.
He takes one look at the scene, and his expression turns lethal.
“She's gone, Royce,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “She's gone.”
“I don’t get why we’re still fucking here,” I snap.
Royce barely spares me a glance as he paces the length of the women’s bathroom, continuing his phone conversation with Dax.
“We know who has her.”
Royce’s glare is withering, only I don’t fucking care. We shouldn’t just be standing here twiddling our thumbs. We should be out there looking for her—heading back to that apartment to see if they’re there.
Grayson finally makes his grand entrance, striding into the bathroom with enough force that the door ricochets off the wall.
“What the fuck happened?” His fury is a match to the flame in an already gasoline-riddled room of frustration. Not bothering to wait for an explanation, he barrels into Royce, the momentum sending them both tumbling into the wall. Royce’s phone goes skittering across the floor into one of the stalls. “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on her!” Gray snarls, glowering at Royce like he could actually take him on and win .
“I was!” Royce shoves Grayson backward before standing straight. “ You were the one who called me . I stepped out to take your call because Riley was worried you were giving yourself alcohol poisoning all alone in your office.”
Teeth gritted, I see the flash of remorse in Gray’s eyes. “I wasn’t drinking. I went because something about the way Dad said he’d see me Monday made me think he was up to something. So I went to snoop around.”
“He was up to something,” I chime in as Royce ducks to retrieve his phone. “Just nothing to do with work.”
“Are we sure it’s my dad?” Grayson asks, swiping a hand through his hair and looking entirely ruffled in his suit from this morning.
“Who else would it be?” I question while Royce goes back to his conversation with Dax.
Grayson shrugs. “Lydia? How do we know she actually got on a plane and left?”
I had opened my mouth to argue, except then I snapped it shut, realizing he was right.
“Fuck,” I snarl instead, whirling to face the mirror. Leaning over the sink, I see my eyes are bloodshot, bags pronounced beneath my eyes. I’m fucking wrecked after giving that game my all to ensure we won. All because I wanted to win Aurora’s first game. Hanging my head, I close my eyes and remember their happy smiles every time I skated past. Aurora’s enthusiastic waves and her screaming my name.
We will find them.
We have to.
The alternative isn’t an option.
“Here,” Royce calls, and my spine snaps straight as he stalks over to me and Gray. He holds his phone out so we can all see, and presses play on a video clip. I swiftly realize it’s video footage of the stadium. Then, a moment later, when Riley and Aurora come into view, content and oblivious as they enter this very bathroom, I realize it’s of the hallway right outside.
There’s nothing for several minutes, and then fucking Bertram sneaks along the hallway, looking shifty as shit, before he steps into the bathroom. My teeth grind to dust and the next few minutes, waiting for them to exit and not knowing what the hell he’s doing to them in there are some of the worst of my life.
Eventually, they reappear. “That bastard,” I snarl when I see he’s holding Aurora hostage against him. “He’s using Aurora to force Riley to leave with him.”
Blue must have compiled the video clips as the camera moves with them through the stadium and outside until they climb into a sleek black car and pull away from the drive. But not before I catch Riley’s pale face and terrified eyes as she scans her surroundings, pleading for someone to help… pleading for one of us .
And we fucking let her down.
“Where does the car go?” I seethe when the screen goes black.
Royce shakes his head. “Blue is working on that now.”
“We’re not just going to stand around here and wait for him to track them back to wherever the fuck they go.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” Grayson drawls, though I can tell from the firm set of his jaw that he’s just as furious as I am.
“Go back to that apartment. Maybe they’re there, or there’s a clue as to where he’d take her. Hell, we can ask the other residents if they know anything.”
Royce scrubs at the thick scruff on his chin. “It’s not a bad idea while we wait for Blue. We might be able to find some clue that he hasn’t.”
I’m already stalking toward the bathroom door with the girls’ coats and bag in my hand. “Let’s go, then,” I bark over my shoulder.
We’re pulling up outside the apartment building in record time. Grayson views the speed limit as a guide rather than a limit as he drives like a maniac through the quiet town streets.
We don’t dawdle outside this time, marching straight into the building and up to apartment eight. The door is closed, but I turn the handle and arch a brow at Royce and Gray when it opens.
Royce slides a gun from the waistband of his jeans, and I momentarily wonder whether he had that on him all night, before he’s stepping in front of me, weapon raised as he moves into the apartment.
I’m on high alert as we enter the apartment, scanning it for any sign of our girls. It looks much like it did last time except… “What is that smell?” I pull the neckline of my t-shirt up to cover my nose against the heavy, cloying stench that smells like the garbage hasn’t been taken out like ever . That smell definitely wasn’t here last time.
As a unit, we move toward the back hallway leading to the bedrooms. With every step, the smell grows more potent. Even through the fabric of my top, the scent is suffocating. I can feel my throat closing over, the urge to gag overwhelming.
Gray and Royce don’t seem to be fairing much better. They’ve also covered their mouths, the three of us sharing an ominous glance as we reach the door behind which the smell is strongest.
We all hesitate, none of us wanting to be the one to reach out and turn the door handle. Whatever the fuck is on the other side of that door, it’s bad.
Really fucking bad.
Mumbling something indecipherable, Royce reaches out and turns the handle before pushing open the door. None of us make a move to step into the room. Thank fuck, because the second the door swings open, it’s like hitting a brick wall of unbearable stench. I can fucking taste it. It’s like rot and body fluid odor all rolled into one. My eyes water immediately, and I hunch over, gagging.
“Jesus.” Gray turns his back on the scene, and I can tell he’s as close as I am to losing the contents of his stomach.
Royce is the only one who doesn’t appear physically affected. I guess he’s used to being around the smell of blood and body odor, but holy shit, this is on an incomprehensible level.
“Who is it?” I manage to choke out. The good news is it can’t be Riley or Aurora. Bad news is that it’s not Bertram.
“Pretty sure I have an idea,” Royce mutters before hedging into the room for a closer inspection. Yeah, I think I’ll just stay here. I absolutely will vomit if I get any closer.
Keeping a safe distance from the bodies, he edges around the perimeter of the room. One of the bodies is lying flat on the floor in what I think is a pool of his own blood, while the other is slumped against the wall. That one is the worst because I can essentially see the extent of decay. I can only look at the body for a second or two at a time before I have to look away. However, from those brief glances, I’m pretty sure it’s Lydia. I recognize the skimpy dress she was wearing when she escaped from Dax’s club.
But who is the other one?
“Pretty sure that’s David,” Royce clues me in when he’s finished inspecting the room. He closes the door, and we quickly return to the hallway outside the apartment, only pausing briefly to check out the other bedroom and ensure it’s empty.
I swear I can still smell the lingering stench of decay once we’ve closed the apartment door, and I’m wondering how we didn’t notice it before or if it’s now permanently embedded in my skin. God, I need at least five scalding showers before I dare to breathe through my nose again.
“Guess that answers our question about whether or not they got on that plane,” I say when I can finally talk without gagging.
Gray shakes his head, staring wide-eyed at the door. “He just left them there,” he states almost absently. “He’s completely fucking lost it. Who just leaves dead bodies there for anyone to find? I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t called the cops yet. It’s only a matter of time.”
I don’t give two shits about that. Good fucking riddance, if you ask me. We’d planned to do the same with Lydia and David, so I couldn’t care less. David deserved the ending he got after his role in Bertram’s fucked up plan. “Well, Bertram definitely didn’t bring the girls here,” I say instead, focusing on what’s important. “Which means he’s got somewhere else he’d take them.”
“Maybe he took them to his house?” Royce suggests.
Grayson sighs. “Maybe. I dunno where else he’d take her.”
“So we go there next?” I ask, frustrated and feeling like we’re running around in circles chasing our tails at this point.
“Let me check in with Dax,” Royce says. He sounds just as defeated as I do.
He steps away to make the call, and I hesitate before striding to the apartment next door and rapping on the door.
“What are you doing?” Gray demands.
I shrug a shoulder because I don’t fucking know. I just need to do something .
“It’s unlikely the neighbors will know anything relevant,” he continues.
Yeah, probably, but it’s worth a chance, right? It’s better than doing fucking nothing.
No one answers, and I knock again. After another moment of being left unanswered, I figure they’re maybe out or away on holiday or some shit. It would explain why they haven’t smelled the horrific stench next door.
Moving further down the hallway, I try to remember which windows had lights on inside when we pulled up. This one has light seeping from beneath the door, so I’m guessing someone is in.
I knock my knuckles against the door. Despite clearly not agreeing with my plan, Gray follows. “Hello,” I call through the door. “I know you’re in there. I just want to ask you a few questions about your neighbor down the hall.”
Still, no one comes to the door. I knock again, sharper this time. My patience is long fucking gone. “I need to talk to you.”
It’s more of a demand this time, but I’m done with being fucking ignored.
In a moment of pure frustration, I fist the door handle. My eyebrows hitch when it turns, the door cracking open an inch. Who leaves their front door unlocked? I lift my gaze to Gray’s, finding him frowning down at the handle in confusion. It was one thing for Bertram’s apartment to be unlocked if he left in a rush, but a second unlocked door?
“Hello?” I call, pushing the door open another inch to peer inside. Just like Bertram’s apartment, what little I can see is sparsely furnished. Straining my ears, I’m met with a silence that doesn’t match the overhead light, which is turned on.
“Hello? My name is Logan,” I explain in a loud, clear voice. “I was hoping to speak to someone about your neighbor.”
Nothing.
I share another what the fuck look with Gray. “You shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked,” I try again. “You never know what type of crazy might just waltz inside and make himself at home.”
Me. I’m that sort of crazy.
Officially done pandering, I shove the door open and enter the apartment. “Be careful,” Gray whispers as he follows me inside.
I do a quick scan of the open-plan layout. No dishes are sitting beside the sink. No coffee cups on the end table. There isn’t even a television in the living room. What sort of neanderthal doesn’t own a TV? Stalking to the kitchen, I rip open the cupboards. Empty. Empty. Empty. No food. No cutlery. No plates.
What the fuck?!
“Gray,” I bark. “Try the apartment next door.”
He hesitates before leaving, and I move deeper into the apartment. The hairs rise on the back of my neck. Something isn’t right here. It’s possible this is just an empty unit and the realtor forgot to turn the light off earlier, but it feels like something more is happening here.
Every room I peer into is empty, and once I’ve checked the entire apartment, I move back to the door. Gray meets me there, his eyes wide. “Every apartment door is open, and they all look like empty units.”
Except, there were names beside every mailbox downstairs.
“No one lives in this building,” I deduce.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.