Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EDWARD
Patience isn’t my greatest strength.
I’ve tossed and turned all night, fought with myself long and hard not to go to Alora and make her believe me. The only thing that’s stopped me is the knowledge of her zero tolerance for my controlling ways.
Turning the corner into her street, I glance at the time on my dash: 6:21 a.m.
I couldn’t wait a minute longer.
I pull my Bentley into the drive beside Philippe; he’s sitting inside the car and another man is sitting on the front porch.
“Hi.” Philippe scrambles out of the car. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
“Yeah, I know.” I walk past him. “Just wanted to get here.” I walk up the stairs and put my key into the door and push but it doesn’t open.
“The deadlock’s on,” Philippe tells me from behind. “We checked for that last night.”
“Good.” I take out my phone to call her, I really want to surprise her while she’s still in bed.
“I’ll go around to the back door.” I make my way around the side of the house and to the set of French doors.
I open the door with my key and head upstairs.
The room is dark and the blankets are pooled over her body.
I lie down beside her and pull the blanket back to see pillows strategically placed under the covers to look like her.
“What?” I jump up and rip the blankets back. “What the fuck?” I turn the lights on. “Alora?” I call. I check the bathroom. “Alora,” I call as panic begins to set in. I dial her number and I hear a distant muffled ring downstairs.
I take the stairs two at a time.
Hello, you’ve reached Alora Sorenson. I’m sorry, I can’t take your call right now.
Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.
“The fuck?” I dial her number again. “Alora,” I call as I walk through the house, a sense of urgency coursing through my veins. I hear her phone ringing, it’s muffled and my eyes dart around as I search for it. “What is going on?”
Hello, you’ve reached Alora Sorenson. I’m sorry, I can’t take your call right now.
Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.
I march to the front door and tear it open. “Where is she?” I yell.
Philippe’s eyes widen and he runs up the driveway. “What do you mean?” he stammers.
“She isn’t here, there were pillows in her bed.”
“What?” He and the other guard glance at each other. “She hasn’t left and nobody has been here all night.”
I dial her number and once again a muffled ring sounds through the house. “Find. The. Fucking. Phone,” I growl.
Ring, ring…. Ring, ring….
They run from room to room as they follow the sound.
“It’s in here somewhere,” Philippe calls from the kitchen, we all run in and concentrate as we try to listen.
Hello, you’ve reached Alora Sorenson. I’m sorry, I can’t take your call right now.
Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.
“Fuck,” I yell. I hang up and immediately call it again.
Ring, ring…. Ring, ring.
“It’s low.” I listen.
Philippe gets down and puts his ear to the floor. “It’s down here somewhere.” He crawls along. “It’s under the fridge.”
My heart begins to hammer. “Why the fuck would it be under the fridge?” He gets a broom handle and slides it under and sure enough her phone comes into view.
He picks it up and we all stare at it, unsure what this means.
I open the fridge to see the two-liter bottles of milk and orange juice are tipped over as if the fridge was tipped. I look around and put two and two together. “There’s been a struggle.”
“I don’t, I have no…” Philippe stammers.
“What the fuck were you idiots doing all night?” I scream so loud the paint nearly peels from the walls. “Alora,” I cry. “Where are you?”
“Did she take off?” Philippe says. His fingers are clasped on top of his head; he too is beginning to panic. “You were fighting, perhaps she snuck out.”
“Without her phone?” I look around and see her purse on the table. I march over and search through it, her wallet is inside and I check and find all of her credit cards still here. “Without any money?”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump…goes my heart.
“Check her tracker,” Philippe snaps as he runs up the stairs.
“Yes, yes.” With shaky fingers I try to open the app on my phone, I’m so frazzled I can hardly see the screen. I watch as the little dot comes into view and I press Track.
The red dot begins to flash and I zoom in as I try to read it. The satellite view of a street comes into view. I zoom in further…it’s…. “Fuck, it’s this street.”
I zoom again and it gets closer and closer…it’s in this house. I frown, confused. “It says she’s still here?”
“Is she in her garden?” Philippe calls from upstairs.
I run into the garden and look around, no sign of her. “Check the back cameras,” I cry.
They begin running through footage on their phones while I walk around.
I go back upstairs and look at the crumpled bed.
I go into the bathroom and bend down in the shower, no water.
She hasn’t showered. The first thing she would have done when she got home last night was shower.
I walk around her bedroom, my eyes search every inch of the walls, the floors, the bed linen…
. Anything, as I try to pick up a scent, a semblance of a clue to her whereabouts.
“Alora,” I call. “Are you here?” I get down on the floor and look under her bed, I search the wardrobe and go through her clothes. No empty hangers, did she pack anything? I run down to the level below and check where she keeps her suitcases, everything is still here.
“Where the fuck are you? Alora,” I call, I listen….
Nothing.
I check the tracker again, the dot flashes right here. I frown, this doesn’t make any sense.
She took it off….
Fuck.
My god, I should have told her it was a tracker and then she would have kept it on. But she never took it off anyway so…. Where is it?
I look in the bathroom and in her bedside drawers, I walk from room to room trying to locate it. My eyes scan every nook and cranny and still I can’t find the diamond bracelet. I walk back to the kitchen and get on my hands and knees and look around, did I miss anything down here?
Thump.
Thump.
Thump…goes my heart.
“Babe, where are you?” I whisper in a panic. “Are you okay?” I get up and take out my phone. I concentrate to try and read the screen, I dial the number.
“Thomas Stone.”
“Thomas.” I pause, what the fuck even is this conversation? “It’s Edward Prescott.”
“Oh, hey, Edward.”
“Please tell me Alora is with you.”
“No. Why?”
I close my eyes.
“We had a disagreement last night and she came home and now she’s missing.”
“Oh no, that’s my fault you had a fight.”
“What?”
“I texted her to see if she was okay after the story.”
“You fucking idiot,” I snap.
“She said she was fine. She texted me on her way home last night to say that you had fought but she was fine and she wanted to stay at home.”
“What else did she say?”
“That you and her were going to work it out today at lunch, she thought that maybe she was being na?ve but her gut told her that the woman had set you up.”
“I thought that too.”
“Have you called her?”
“Her phone is here, her purse with all her cards is here.”
“Check her phone, see if anyone else called her.”
“Good thinking.” I grab her phone, put in the passcode, and scroll through her texts.
“I last texted her yesterday morning and then only yours and hers,” I reply as I search.
“Let me check the call register.” I scroll through and see her calls to me and my office yesterday that I didn’t answer and my gut twists in disgust, why didn’t I call her back?
“It shows my missed calls to her last night but nothing else.”
“Oh my god,” he whispers. “You don’t think…that fucking weirdo ex of hers. I knew he was fucking off.”
“I’ve had people trailing him since Sunday, he was home all night. I’ve had people on Isadora too, just to be safe.” I think out loud. “She was home all night as well. I get notified if either of them leaves their house.”
Hermione….
No….
“Have you tried calling her?” he asks.
“I just told you her phone is here, her purse with all her cards is inside.”
“Shit. That’s fucking weird, nobody leaves the house without a phone and money.”
“Right?”
“Call her dad.”
“I don’t want to worry them.”
“She’s fucking missing, Prescott. They need to be worried.”
I drag my hand down my face. “This is my worst fucking nightmare.”
“Did you call her workers from the store? Helene, try Helene.”
“No.”
“Do that. I’m on my way.”
I nod, cortisol stealing my ability to reply.
“It’s okay, Edward. We’ll find her.”
“What if something has happened?”
“How? She’s guarded like a fucking treasure.” He thinks for a moment. “Look, I think maybe she’s just pissed and has taken off to cool down.”
I nod, hoping that’s true.
“I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up and go back to walking around the yard. “Anything?” I call.
“Nothing came in or out all night,” Philippe calls as he stares at his phone.
“Check again, she didn’t just vanish.”
They keep searching and I go to the side fence and look up at the top, nobody could get up there. I walk to the back of the garden to the cliff and that’s when I see it, a set of footprints leading to the cliff, and I kneel down beside them. “Down here,” I cry.
They come running out and fall to the ground beside me. “Are these your footprints?” I ask. “Were either of you at this cliff overnight?”
They exchange glances and both shake their heads. “No.”
“That’s a man-sized shoe,” I murmur as I stare at it in the dirt, adrenaline is surging though my bloodstream. “Call the police.”
“And what happened then?” the policeman asks as he sits opposite me on the couch.
“I….” I pause. “She was going to bed so I did too.” I throw up my hands. “I had men out the front….” I shrug as I struggle to push words past my lips.
“Has she ever taken off before?” he asks.
“She hasn’t taken off,” I snap. “She’s been taken. There are fucking male footprints in the back garden.”
He gives me a condescending smile. “With all due respect, Mr. Prescott. There has been no indication that this is the scene of a crime, they could be a gardener’s or anyone’s.
She hasn’t even been gone for twenty-four hours; she may have just left under the cloak of privacy to get away from your guards. ”
“She wouldn’t do that.” I shake my head. “And if this isn’t the scene of a crime, why was her phone under the fridge?”
His eyes hold mine.
“Why were things knocked over in the fridge as if there was a struggle?”
“We have forensics checking everything now and I’m sure she’s going to turn up fine.”
I glance into the kitchen to see them combing the space with dusting powder.
Thomas is out the front with the guards, they are calling everyone in search of her.
“Is there anyone who may know where she is?” he asks. “Anyone who may have a grudge against her?” He is scribbling down notes. “Anyone that may have an idea of what has happened here?”
“I don’t think—” I cut myself off.
“Who?”
“Um….” My hands are shaking, my mind is fried. “I’m….”
“I know who you can ask,” Thomas says from behind me.
“Who’s that?” the policeman asks.
“Edward’s ex-girlfriend, Princess Hermione of Switzerland.”
The policeman’s eyes come to me. “Anybody else?”
“Her father, King Volter.”
Three days, seventy-two hours, 4,320 minutes….
It’s a long time to hold your breath, to pray with every cell in your body for a miracle. To miss someone so much that it physically hurts.
Alora hasn’t accessed any bank accounts; my worst fear is coming true.
I stare through the window and out over the marina down below.
Where are you, my love?
We’ve exhausted every lead possible, every person who’s ever hated me. Every business deal gone bad. Pascal, Hermione, and Isadora…. Checked the video footage from their homes.
Nothing.
Not even a scent of a lead. Every one of them can be accounted for.
Alora’s father and brother are downstairs, along with my brother and father. Theodore, Sinclair, and Thomas. It’s all hands on deck and even with all our resources pooled, we still have no idea how she just vanished without a trace.
The marina blurs and I swallow the lump in my throat. As the hours tick by, my dread grows. A twisted dark vine taking over my soul.
Where is she?
I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten…. I’m barely able to function. Clinging to hope is the only thing keeping me sane.
“Alora,” I whisper into the silence, her name an ethereal prayer.
From the corner of my eye I see the post delivery truck, he pulls up at the marina and begins to walk along the yachts as he hands out the mail.
“You okay, man?” Thomas says softly from behind me.
I nod, unable to push a lie through my lips.
I’m as far from okay as physically possible but I won’t rest until I bring her home.
Where are you, Doe?
“Thank you,” I hear someone say from down below.
“Can I get you anything?” Thomas asks.
“No.”
“I’m worried about you,” he replies.
“I’m worried about me,” I murmur, my gaze still out the window.
“Mr. Prescott.” I hear someone walking up the stairs. “You have a delivery from the casino, sir.”
“Put it in my office.”
“It’s marked urgent.”
“Just leave it here,” Thomas tells him. He puts it on the table and disappears down the stairs. “Do you want me to open this?” Thomas asks.
I keep staring out the window, battling to find the will to breathe.
I hear packaging unwrap. “Huh?” Thomas frowns. “What is this?”
I turn and see him unwrapping a box, inside it another box and inside that another box.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention and I walk over to the table and take over from him. I open the final box and plastic wrap sits on top, I peel it back to see a lump of meat covered in blood, there’s a vine wrapped around it.
“What the fuck?” There’s a laminated card sitting within it and I pick it up, blood drops off it onto the floor.
The Heart You Kept
“Oh my god,” Thomas gasps. “No.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “What…is this….”
“It’s a human heart.” He cuts me off. My eyes flick up to him. Thomas is a doctor, he would know this.
I stare at it as I connect the dots.
My eyes widen, dear god.
The heart I kept was Alora’s….
The earth moves beneath me as I stare at the card, my hand covered in blood…her blood, and I grab the table to stop myself from falling.
She’s dead.