Chapter 27
Gracyn
B y nine, Ray arranged a car to take me to Brooks. I nibbled on the breakfast he sent over, but my nerves were still shot. I couldn’t eat much. As the car stops in front of Brooks’s building, I swallow hard. You’re here for him. That’s all that matters .
The bellman opens the door for me, a questioning expression on his face, and I wonder if he recognizes me. The entire building, both inside and out, is swarming with uniformed police officers. The weight of their presence bears down on me, amplifying the panic. My heart races as I approach the security guard’s desk. He looks disheveled and tired when he glances up at me.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re not allowing visitors into the building at the moment.”
I glance around nervously, my mouth parched. How do I introduce myself? Well, the headlines have already spilled our secret, so I may as well use it to my advantage. “I’m Gracyn Carmichael, Brooks Handley’s wife,” I say, watching the security guard’s eyes widen as he looks around, unsure of what to do.
You and me both, buddy.
“One moment,” he mutters before darting to a police officer. Their conversation is too low for me to catch, but the officer gives me a measured glance, sending a ripple of unease through me, before he angles his head and speaks into his radio. The security guard returns and gestures to the chairs in the lobby. “Have a seat. Someone will be down shortly to assist you.”
I walk over and force myself into a chair. Minutes crawl by, my nerves twisting tighter with each passing second. I can’t stop fidgeting, wondering if Brooks decided to not let me up.
The elevator dings, and my eyes snap up, but a woman steps off. A sigh of disappointment escapes my lips, and I return my gaze to my phone. Charli texted me she saw the same Google Alert and wants to know what’s happening. In all the chaos, I forgot to let her know.
“Gracyn Carmichael?”
I pause writing Charli back, and lift my head to find the woman who just got off the elevator staring down at me. With a quick nod, I tuck my phone into my purse and rise to my feet. “Yes, that’s me,” I reply. She’s dressed in plain clothes, but now I notice the NYPD badge clipped to her hip.
She extends her hand with a warm smile. “I’m Addison Roberts,” she introduces herself. I grasp her hand, wondering why her name seems familiar. “I’m Brooks’s sister.”
The hint of judgment in her eyes, mixed with a touch of curiosity, makes sense now. Who could blame her?
“Oh. Hi. Call me Gray,” I say, hoping to avoid a lecture about our irresponsible choices. I’m not in the mood. “How’s Brooks?”
Her shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. “A mess. So, tread lightly when you see him.”
Her words catch me off guard. I was ready to be sent away. “You’re taking me up?”
“Isn’t that why you came?”
“Yes,” I reply, bending to grab my bag. We step into the elevator. “I thought maybe he wouldn’t wa?—”
“He doesn’t know you’re here yet,” she cuts in, her tone matter-of-fact.
Her words resonate in the elevator’s confined space. Why wouldn’t they tell him I’m here first?
I shift uncomfortably, leaning against the cool metal wall. “What if he doesn’t want me here?” I whisper.
Addison doesn’t sugarcoat it. “He might not,” she says bluntly. I like no bullshit answers, but ouch. “But that’s okay. You’re not here for what he wants right now. You’re here for when he needs you. And I promise he’s going to need you.”
Her words hit something deep inside me, reassuring and grounding. I take a steady breath and nod. I hope she’s right . I clutch the strap of my bag as the elevator door opens.
Stepping into Brooks’s place is like crossing the threshold into the calm center of a raging storm. The air hums with a heavy, foreboding atmosphere, sending a chill down my spine. The room falls silent as soon as we close the door, and all eyes turn on me. I search for the only face that means everything to me in a sea of strangers.
As Brooks emerges from the kitchen, his gaze locks with mine, and my worries and doubts melt away in the intensity of that moment. Without uttering a single word, he rushes toward me and pulls me in a tight, wordless hug. It’s brief, but in those fleeting moments, I sense the depth of his pain etched in my own heart. He turns and returns to the kitchen table, leaning over the shoulder of a man working on a computer.
It’s not a rejection. I exhale, making myself breathe.
“Okay. What can I do to help?” I ask Addison, my confidence returning.
“Let’s introduce you to everyone first.”
The names flow in one ear and out the other while we navigate the room. My focus is on Brooks and trying to listen to the updates. There’s a mix of local police, FBI, and a security team. The security team they hired is slightly intimidating, their assessing stares lingering on me as I move around. They make Ray’s security guards seem unimposing. These men are built like tanks with tats up and down their arms, taking up a lot of room at the kitchen table, except the computer guy. He’s muscular, but tall and thin. The last person I meet is Aiden, Addison’s husband—the FBI .
“I apologize for jumping to conclusions,” he says, shaking my hand. “I’ve learned that coincidences sometimes happen.” He shoots a meaningful glance at Addison, and she nods.
“It’s okay. It’s still hard for me to believe.”
“Since you’re here, do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“What the fuck!” Brooks roars, startling me. “She has nothing to do with this.” Aiden maintains his gaze with him as he storms over. “She was with me when it happened, in a different state.” He goes toe-to-toe with Aiden.
“Hey,” I whisper, placing my hand on Brooks’s tense bicep. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
He jerks his head toward me. “I do.”
I lift my hand, touching his beard, tears welling up from the sight of his brokenness. “If they have questions, I want to help. I’ll do whatever I can to find Presley.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, pulling in a sharp inhale and blowing it out slowly. He gives Aiden a hard nod, leaving as fast as he got there.
Aiden gestures for me to sit on the couch in the living room. The whirlwind of events since the last time I sat on this couch feels like an eternity has passed, yet it was only weeks ago.
Nothing I have to say is anything of importance. But as he’s finishing up asking me questions, an attractive woman enters through the front door, carrying a stack of papers. Her dark blond hair is up in a messy bun, but not messy enough that it was done haphazardly. She knows who I am because the moment her eyes lock with mine, I can see her hackles raise. She proceeds to the kitchen, and as she disappears out of view, Aiden and I exchange a look.
“Please tell me that’s not an ex or something.”
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “That’s Judith.”
The nanny. I nod in understanding, her reaction making more sense. But I don’t know why I’m surprised that she’s so pretty. Of course, Brooks would hire an attractive nanny. I guess when I heard her name was Judith, my mind imagined a cute older lady.
“She’s probably surprised you’re here. But don’t pay any attention to her.” He leans closer and whispers, “He’s glad you’re here, and so are we.”
I wouldn’t go that far to say he’s glad, but I appreciate the words.
He stands up and motions for us to join the others. “Let’s tell Brooks we’re done, so he’s not in there fuming the entire time.”
As we enter the kitchen, Judith stands right next to Brooks, her head leaning against his arm as they stare out the window. Their backs are to us.
“We’re done,” Aiden states, causing Brooks to spin around.
He heads in our direction. Judith’s sneer is quick, but I caught it. I stare at her a moment, lifting a brow, as if asking her what her freaking problem is. Her gaze falls to the papers in her hand, and she acts like she’s searching for something in the pile, knowing she was caught.
Brooks’s large frame stands close, and he leans down, whispering, “Sorry I didn’t say it earlier, but thanks for coming.” Our fingers brush against each other, so I grab his hand and squeeze.
“Hi, I’m Judith. You must be Gracyn,” Judith says, walking up to us. Brooks tightens his grip as we turn toward her. I can’t tell if it’s intentional or he just doesn’t want to let go.
I see the worry in her reddened eyes. Despite her clear displeasure with me being here, I swallow any irritation and offer a warm smile. I’m sure she’s in hell, too. “Please, call me Gray,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you need any help with those?” I glance between the two of them.
She lifts the stack of papers, and her body language remains frosty as she attempts to be friendly. “I printed off flyers to pass around. Would you mind passing them out throughout the neighborhood?”
I don’t care if she’s trying to test my intentions or get rid of me. I’m not here to play tug-of-war with Brooks. I’m here to help. “Not at all,” I reply, taking the flyers from her.
She looks at me with a hint of surprise, as if she was expecting me to fight to stay near Brooks.
I turn to Addison, who has joined us. “Should I start by going door-to-door in the building?”
“No, the police have already done that,” she says. “Since you’re not familiar with the area, I’ll go with you.” She places her hand on Brooks’s shoulder. “You need anything?”
He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turned down, not able to hide the worry etched across his features. I have the urge to reach out to him as he walks past us and give him a reassuring hug. But I can’t. Not when I have no idea how much danger Presley might be in.
He paces restlessly behind the others, and I glance at Addison, whispering, “How could she have just vanished?” With all the technology and cameras around, I’m having a hard time understanding how someone got away with the perfect crime.
Her jaw tightens, and she exhales. “There are no perfect crimes. We’ll find her,” she states, her voice heavy with frustration and determination.
Once we hand out the last of the flyers, a cloud of failure settles over me. I’d been clinging to the hope of finding a lead. Hoping someone might glance at the flyer and it would jog a memory, bringing us closer to Presley. But nothing. I probably toed the line of harassment, demanding people look at the picture, but damn them for not caring enough to give me five seconds of their busy life. A certain lady, in particular, didn’t like when I stuffed the flyer into her Gucci bag. But again, screw her and her self-absorbed attitude.
We return to the penthouse a little before lunchtime. There’s no new information, and I feel in the way, so I stand to the side, studying the whiteboard, separating the dining area and the living room.
My eyes scan over the names, timelines, and connections. There’s a picture that catches my attention. Brows furrow as I step closer. It’s a mugshot of a blonde woman with hollow, dark bags under her eyes and an expression that could rival stone.
“Who’s that?” I ask, breaking the room’s silence. There’s a line pointing to her with question marks. Something about her feels familiar .
Addison steps up beside me. “That’s Jessie. Presley’s mom.”
My brows knit together in surprise, looking at the worn, tired face on the board. “I thought she was dead.”
“If only,” Brooks mutters under his breath, joining us.
Addison points her glare at him, and he throws his hands in the air.
“It’d make my life easier,” he says, unapologetic.
I stare at the picture, recalling the conversation at the wedding with my chatty neighbor.
“Why did you think she was dead?” Aiden asks, startling me as he stands on my other side.
“I guess it was just gossip. I was told at Jared’s wedding that she tried to kill Addison and then killed herself.”
Addison lets out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a scoff as she walks away. “It’s half right,” she calls over her shoulder.
My eyes widen, and my gaze jumps from her to Aiden and back to her. Jessie’s alive, so I can assume which half is right.
“Yeah, that wasn’t one of my best days,” Aiden adds, irritated.
You don’t say.
“So, do y’all think she has Presley?”
Aiden hums. “She’s our top suspect. No one has seen her for two months.”
“I don’t understand why Presley would go to the vehicle like she knew her,” Judith chokes out, her voice trembling. She turns to Brooks, her tear-filled eyes pleading with him. “I just want our girl back.”
Our? I don’t like that woman. She’s trying hard to remind me of her place here. But the pointless emphasis isn’t necessary. I get it. She’s been in Presley’s life since she was one. She’s practically her mom. I’m the outsider.
Brooks’s shoulders droop, and he nods. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t said much since this morning. Just pacing nonstop, gripping onto his phone like it’s his lifeline. When the door opens, every head whips in that direction.
“I got food,” a woman says, in a sad singsong voice, hidden behind a tall stack of pizza boxes.
My jaw drops open when she drops the boxes on the table. “Is that…” I whisper to Addison.
She nods, grabbing my hand. I’ve never experienced a confusing swirl of worry and excitement at the same time. The emotions are confusing. Thank God my brain has enough sense to keep from fangirling right now.
“Sydney, this is Gray. Brooks’s, you know …” She mutters the last part as if I’m the surprise here.
I blink, trying to process the fact that I’m standing right next to Sky Owen— the famous country star —who I paid an exorbitant amount last year to see in concert.
“Ohhh,” she replies, giving me a once-over. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Gray.” She sticks out her hand, and I shake it. “You’ve met Max, right? He belongs to me.”
This is surreal. Sky knew about me? I’m stunned stupid and nod. I force myself to focus, snapping out of my daze . Not the time nor the place, Gray . Relief washes over me when she turns away, giving me a moment to collect myself.
“All right, everyone, eat,” she announces to the room in a sweet Southern accent. “Brooks, you too.”
He mumbles a string of curse words under his breath and storms into the hallway, disappearing into his room, slamming the door behind him. Judith stands and stares in that direction. As she takes a step toward it, Addison stops her.
“Judith, can you help me get plates and drinks out?”
She turns and looks at her. Not a blank stare, but an annoyed one.
“You know where everything is,” Addison reminds her, pretending she doesn’t see her irritation. I’ve learned that Addison sees everything.
Judith scans the group of people in the room as if to see who’s watching. When she sees it’s more than just Addison and me, she walks to the kitchen. When I peek over at Addison, she jerks her head toward the bedroom. “Go,” she mouths.
I take slow, calculated steps to his door and knock twice. “I’m coming in,” I warn.
Whether or not you like it . His back is to me as he sits on the edge of his king-size bed, his head hung between his shoulders. He doesn’t move, so I step inside and ease the door closed. My footsteps brush against the wooden floor. Chewing on my inner cheek, I stand in front of him and wait.
He lifts his head, and angry tears fall. His strength hangs from a thin string, fraying in the middle. I take a step forward and raise my hand. His beard is rough against my palm, and I wait for him to pull back.
He doesn’t. His exhale is rough as he falls forward, digging his face into my stomach, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. His arms wrap around my waist, and my fingers dig through his hair.
“They’ll find her. They have to.”
“She can’t have her,” he says, choking up. “She’s mine.”
The string breaks, and he’s ripped in two. His raw emotions blanket me as he cries without a sound. In this fractured moment, our hearts bleed a river, and we’re both drowning.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
After a couple of beats of silence, the weight of his body heavies. He’s exhausted from being up all night. “Brooks, lie down.”
He refuses with a stubborn tilt of his head, clinging to me like a child holding onto his mom. “I’m comfortable right here.”
“I’ll lie down with you.”
He releases me, but only long enough to pull me onto the bed with him. He draws me into him, my back to his chest, with a tight grip around my waist. Within a few deep breaths, his grip loosens, and we both fall asleep.