49. Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kai Moreno
WTF Happened In Here?
Iunlock the bookstore with my key, the familiar click sounding too loud in the quiet street.
Like someone may jump out and shush me from the alleyway.
From what I can tell, the lights are off inside, which shouldn’t be as peculiar as it sounds since it’s the middle of the night.
Although, something about this already feels so wrong. I step in and stop short.
Paper is everywhere, from the front door to the counter.
Notes scatter across the floor like fallen leaves, as well as an abundant amount of pens, permanent markers, printed receipts, and two or three different maps.
Crimson & Quill looks ransacked by someone who might not be finished destroying it.
At the back door sits Beau’s futon now torn to shreds.
In the center of the chaos, sitting criss-crossed in front of the counter is Beau.
For a man that always appears solid and imposing, a man who fills a room without intention, he appears distraught.
Tonight, he looks like he’s unraveling at the seams. His hair sticks out at odd angles, like he’s been running his hands through it for hours.
His shirt is torn at the collar and splattered with dark blood.
There’s no visible injuries or wounds. If Beau took a beating, he replenished and healed before I arrived.
His eyes are dark, almost demonic appearing.
Beau doesn’t look directly at me as I inch closer to him, ensuring the door is locked behind me before continuing.
“I checked the gas station first,” he says, voice rapid and flat. “She filled up last night at 6:42 pm. After that nothing. No card activity at all.”
My stomach drops. “Beau. Look at me,” I say carefully.
“She could have gone anywhere,” he continues, standing up to start pacing now.
“She could have doubled back. Taken the side roads. I wrote down every possible route from the bookstore to her place and back again. Look.” He shoves a handful of papers toward me.
I catch them before they hit the floor. The papers show: bank statements, time stamps, purchase location date, and withdrawal history.
“Okay, so you hacked her account,” I say.
“I had to,” he replies immediately. “She’ll understand.
I’m trying to figure out where she is, Kai.
She has pushed me to go to extremes. I’m not upset with her.
I know she’s scared, but even more than that I need to know she’s going to be okay.
This is all my fault.” An alarm signals loud in my head, but I push it back down.
This is not the moment for judgment. This is the moment for grounding and keeping Beau off the edge.
Stalking is one thing. Hacking into her personal information is another. He’s gone off the rails.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Walk me through everything again.”
He keeps talking as we both kneel, spreading the papers out, retracing his steps.
I follow his logic. It’s not sloppy. That’s the terrifying part.
He tracked and traced every aspect of her life for the past twenty-four hours to try to get him closer to an answer.
He’s being methodical and thorough, but still obsessive.
“She never made it home,” he says. “I know that now.”
I glance up at him. He’s staring at nothing, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. “Beau,” I say. “Look at me.” He decides against listening and still stays dissociated, staring off in the distance. “Beau. Are you okay?”
He finally turns his head, eyes locking onto mine like he’s grabbing onto a ledge in order to avoid falling into the deep, dark abyss that is the realization that he may have very well lost Elowen tonight.
“I just need to know she’s okay,” he says quietly. “I can’t rest until I can explain to her what she witnessed tonight. Even if she hates me. Even if she decides to erase me from her life and tells me to never contact her again. I need to know that she’s okay.”
Something cold slides down my spine. “Beau, we’ll find her,” I say.
“We are not going to stop until we know for sure that Elowen is okay. You checked Imani’s house and that’s a good start.
Let’s keep the ideas coming. We’re not stopping.
” We work through sunrise. Hours begin to blur together.
We circle the same facts, gaps, and unanswered questions.
Beau spirals outward, then pulls himself back from the edge, just enough to keep moving for answers.
Finally, my throat is dry and my head hurts. “Beau,” I say.
“Yes,” he answers immediately.
“What about the hospitals?”
He blinks at me. “Why would I check the hospitals?”
“You mentioned tire marks on the road,” I say carefully. “What if she got into an accident?”
The reaction is instant and violent. “No,” he snaps. “No. She is not lying in a hospital bed. She is not dead. She is not on her way to a morgue. She’s not hurt, okay?”
“Beau,” I say firmly, standing now. “Listen to me. I don’t think she’s dead, but she could be hurt.
” His chest heaves. His hands shake as I step closer.
“Checking doesn’t make it real, not yet.
This is just another lane of information to search, okay?
” Silence stretches between us, taut as wire.
Finally, he nods once. We start calling one hospital after another.
We give them her name. Her description. Each answer is the same. No Elowen Briar here.
The sun is already up and exhaustion weighs in my bones. She’s still missing. And Beau is still standing, bloodstained and unbroken, refusing to believe there’s a world where he exists without her. And I don’t blame him.