Chapter 16 #2
"Emery?" Devon called, his voice echoing through the quiet house. "Emery!"
No answer.
Bryson moved toward the front, checking rooms. Devon raced upstairs, taking the steps three at a time, his boots thudding on hardwood.
Their bedroom door was closed. He threw it open.
Empty. The bed disheveled as if she might get back in it. He opened the closet. All her clothes were in there. Yanking open the bathroom door, he checked for her hairdryer, makeup, shampoo. All still there.
He knew with cold certainty that Emery was gone.
But she hadn’t left because she’d wanted to.
Someone had taken her. His heart dropped to his toes like a brick.
He couldn’t suck in a deep enough breath.
He loved Emery, and the thought of anything happening to her crushed his soul so completely he wasn’t sure it was something he could come back from.
He thundered back downstairs. Bryson was in the kitchen on his phone, his face pale. He’d flipped on all the outside lights. The backyard looked like a midnight party.
"Sandy’s on her way," Bryson said. "I'm calling Dad and—"
"There." Devon pointed out the back door at something glistening in the bright lighting.
In the grass, maybe twenty feet from the deck, a mug lay on its side. White travel mug against dark green grass, impossible to miss once he saw it.
Devon pushed open the door and raced down the steps, crossing the lawn in long strides. He bent over and examined the mug—coffee soaking into the ground beside it.
She'd been here. Right here, twenty feet from the house, and someone had—
His vision tunneled. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the mug.
"Devon." Bryson's voice was calm despite the situation. "Come back inside. We need to search the house, make sure—"
"She's not in the house." Devon's voice didn't sound like his own. It had grown dark. Distant. Empty. "Someone took her. Someone lured her out here and took her."
Lights flickered through second-floor windows. Voices called out, confused and alarmed.
Walter appeared in the doorway in his robe. "What's going on?"
"Emery's gone," Devon said. He stared out into the vineyard. The sky gave way to the faint glow of the morning rays peeking over the horizon. There was so much movement on the property during harvest. People milling about day and night. Motion detectors in specific locations had been turned off. "Someone took her. Someone who knew which blocks we’d be working on. Someone who had a basic understanding of our security system.”
"What?" Walter descended the steps, Brea right behind him in her nightgown and robe. "What do you mean someone took her?"
Devon held up his phone, showing the email. "This came ten minutes ago. It's not from her. It's fake. She's gone. Taken.”
Brea took the phone and read quickly. Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh my God."
Riley appeared next, followed by Ashley and Hasley. Then Michael Tate, Emery's father, his face draining of color as he took in the scene.” How did this happen?” Michael demanded.
“I don’t have that answer.” The words tasted like ash. "I left her here—I thought she'd be safe—there were people in the house—"
“You can’t go down that road.” Walter's voice cut through the spiral. "This is not your fault."
"I left her alone." Devon’s pulse continued to increase. His chest tightened as if a wrecking ball had crashed into it, pinning him to a wall.
"The house was full of people," Brea said firmly. "We were all here. How could anyone have known—"
"Because they've been watching." Devon's hands curled into fists. "They knew the harvest schedule. Knew I'd be in the vines. They knew how to get to her.”
Michael moved past them, out onto the lawn, his eyes scanning the ground. "No signs of a struggle here. She must have dropped the mug and tried to run, or—" He stopped, bending down. When he stood, he held something between his fingers. "Blood. On the grass. Not much, but some."
Devon felt bile rise in his throat. Blood. Emery's blood.
"Sandy's five minutes out," Bryson said, still on his phone. "She's bringing backup. They'll search the property, set up roadblocks—"
"Whoever took her, they had this planned. They're not stupid enough to stick around,” Devon said. “And we have no idea where they went. What direction. We have nothing.”
Riley was typing furiously on her phone. "I'm checking security footage and texting a few neighbors, asking if they can check Ring cameras, anything. If they took her in a vehicle—"
"Then they'll be long gone before we find anything." Devon wanted to hit something, wanted to destroy something, wanted to do anything but stand in his parents’ home feeling helpless while Emery was out there with someone who wanted her dead.
Walter gripped his shoulders, tight. "We will find her. We will get her back."
"What if we don't?" He let his gaze drift to the vines.
The scent of freshly picked grapes whispered in the wind.
Harvest had always been a mixture of excitement and dread.
The anticipation of making a new year of wine.
New blends. Perhaps a new flavor. But the work was hard.
The hours are long. And he looked forward to when it was over.
But this year, all the harvest had brought was a litany of lies. "What if we're too late?”
"Don't." Michael's voice rang out sharp. Strong. "My daughter is smart and fierce and a fighter. Whoever has her is going to regret it." But his eyes said what his words didn’t. He was terrified, too.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Sandy's patrol car flew up the driveway, followed by two more units. She was out of her vehicle just as it jerked to a stop, striding toward them with purpose. "Talk to me," she said. "What happened?"
Devon handed her his phone and showed her the email. "It's fake. Emery didn't send it. Someone took her from right here—" He gestured to where the mug had been found. “I don’t know how long ago, but I got that email fifteen minutes ago.”
Sandy read the email, expressionless. All cop.
Something that Devon had grown to resent, but in this moment, he appreciated the sense of urgency.
“I’ll need a copy of this, and I can have IT check it out.
” She glanced up. “So, I had enough to bring in Winston and Callie for questioning last night, but not enough to keep them. Not to mention, they lawyered up the second they came into the station. But it was insightful.”
“What does that mean?” Devon asked.
“You’re going to have to trust me.” Sandy handed the cell back to Devon. “I’m still waiting for IT to get back to me on the email chain that was sent to the reporter. They promised I’d have it by morning.”
“How are Gabe’s fake emails connected to this, exactly?” Devon glared.
“We have reason to believe that someone was trying to make it look like Gabe and Emery were working together to do two things. I can’t get into what that is, or how I know that.
” Sandy turned and faced one of her deputies.
"I want a full search of this property. Look for signs of a vehicle, tire tracks, anything that shows how they got her off the premises. "
The deputies scattered, moving with practiced efficiency. Riley was already on her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. Ashley and Hasley stood huddled together on the deck, both pale and shaken.
Sandy turned her attention back to Devon. “I need access to your security cameras.”
“Not a problem,” Walter said.
Devon couldn't move. Couldn't think past the image of Emery being dragged away in the darkness, scared and hurt and wondering why no one had come to help her. He’d failed her. “I should have stayed," he said. "I should have been here."
"You can't be with her every second," Walter said quietly. "No one can."
"But I promised. I promised I'd keep her safe."
"And you did everything you could." Brea pulled him into a fierce motherly hug. The kind of hug she’d given him as a small boy when he’d been hurt or didn’t feel well. But this time, it didn’t ease the torment. “This is not your fault. Do you hear me? This is not your fault."
“It’s hard not to blame myself.” He kissed his mother’s cheek and pulled away.
Michael stood apart from the group, staring out at the vineyard like he could see something the rest of them couldn't.
“I’m sorry,” Devon said, moving to stand beside him. "I swear to God, we'll get her back."
“If anything happens to my daughter, there won't be enough police in this valley to stop me from tearing apart whoever took her."
Devon understood the sentiment. Felt it in his bones.
Someone had taken Emery. Had lured her out of the house and disappeared with her into the pre-dawn darkness.
And when Devon found them—when, not if—they were going to regret they'd ever been born.