Chapter Seventeen #3
“Could’ve,” Kayne allowed. “But she didn’t show up for work, isn’t answering calls, and her car’s gone.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Tyler.”
Tyler picked up on the second ring. “What’s up, buttercup?”
Kayne wasn’t in a playful mood, so he got straight to the point. “I need you to trace Robin Day’s phone. You ran a background check on her the other day. I want the last ping and current status.”
There was a pause, then the faint sound of furious typing. “Give me thirty seconds.”
Kayne paced, his mind already mapping worst-case scenarios. Anja stood watch, arms crossed, eyes never still.
“Got it,” Tyler said. “Last signal dropped about four hours ago. Location . . . hold on.” Another pause. “Well, that’s not good.”
“Where?” Kayne asked, his voice flat.
“Dumpster behind a strip mall off Kingshighway.”
Kayne closed his eyes for half a beat. “Send the coordinates.”
They were in the car before the call ended. When they reached the dumpster, it reeked of old coffee and bad decisions.
Kayne didn’t react to either. He lifted the lid while Anja stood watch. Inside, sitting right on top as if it had been placed there deliberately, was a purse. Robin’s. Her wallet and keys were inside. Her phone was cracked, dark, and lifeless.
There was no blood on her things, and nothing suggested a struggle.
Anja’s voice was quiet when she said, “This wasn’t random.”
“No,” Kayne agreed, staring down at the phone.
He straightened, cold resolve settling into his bones. Robin hadn’t quit, flaked, or changed her mind because Mercury was in retrograde, as Chloe had joked.
Someone had removed her.
#
Chloe kept telling herself not to check the clock again. She failed. 3:42 p.m.
Robin still hadn’t shown up, nor had she called or even texted back. The unease that had been pacing quietly in Chloe’s head all day had picked up speed, bumping harder against her skull every time the front door opened and it wasn’t the person she was waiting for.
She sat at her desk with her phone to the right of the keyboard, pretending not to notice it. She’d already called twice more and gone straight to voicemail. Again.
This was officially past late. It was edging into something-was-wrong territory and Chloe didn’t enjoy how familiar that feeling was starting to become.
She rubbed at the space between her eyebrows and exhaled slowly. Robin didn’t strike her as flaky. Nervous, yes. Earnest. Maybe a little overwhelmed. But not someone who would vanish without so much as a message unless something had happened.
She didn’t let herself finish that thought.
The door banged open hard enough to rattle the glass.
Chloe flinched, then straightened automatically as Danica stalked inside, designer boots clicking with irritation, sunglasses still on despite the indoor lighting.
Her mouth was in a thin line, her entire body broadcasting that something had personally offended her, and she would be filing a complaint.
“Hey,” Chloe said carefully.
Danica didn’t respond. She dropped her bag onto the nearest bench and yanked the sunglasses off, revealing eyes flashing with annoyance and mascara that had already seen better hours.
“This city is a nightmare today,” she announced.
Chloe blinked. “Good afternoon to you too?”
Danica waved a dismissive hand. “Traffic was awful. I couldn’t find parking at the store because apparently everyone in St. Louis has decided to shop at the same time, and the coffee place on the corner messed up my order. Twice.”
“I’m so sorry the city conspired against you,” Chloe said mildly, though her patience was already fraying. Danica had been off doing her own thing instead of earning the generous salary Chloe paid her. “Do you want to sit down?”
“I want to know why you didn’t answer my text.”
Chloe frowned. “What text?”
Danica pulled out her phone and shoved it toward her. Chloe glanced at the screen.
U busy? Sent seven minutes ago.
“I was trying to track down my missing manager,” Chloe said, keeping her voice even.
Danica scoffed. “Already? That didn’t take long.”
Chloe stiffened. “She didn’t quit; she just didn’t show up. There’s a difference.”
Danica’s mouth twisted. “If she didn’t show, that’s basically quitting. People are unreliable like that.”
Annoyance had her snapping, “Not everyone, and I don’t actually know what’s going on yet.”
Danica rolled her eyes and flopped onto a chair. “You’re way too trusting. That’s your problem. You always assume the best, and then you’re shocked when people disappoint you.”
Chloe pressed her lips together, choosing not to rise to that particular bait. She glanced toward the door again before she could stop herself.
Danica noticed. “You waiting for someone?” she asked, interest sharpening her tone.
Chloe closed her eyes for half a second. When she opened them, she forced her shoulders to relax. “Danica, if you’re here to pick a fight, I don’t have the bandwidth.”
Danica crossed her arms. “I’m in a bad mood.”
“So I gathered.”
“I had a terrible day.”
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, meaning it, even if the timing was spectacularly bad.
Danica studied her, eyes narrowing. “You look stressed.”
Chloe huffed out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Wow. Observant.”
There was a brief pause, the tension heavy enough to feel sticky. Then Danica sighed and leaned back. “Fine. I won’t be awful. Much.”
“How magnanimous,” Chloe murmured.
Danica’s gaze sharpened. “So what happens if she really doesn’t come back?”
Chloe swallowed. “I figure it out. I always do.”
Danica tilted her head. “Are you going to hire that Oliver guy after all?”
The fact that Danica knew his name irritated Chloe more than it should have. She filed that reaction away for later. “Maybe,” she said reluctantly. “If I have to.”
Danica grimaced. “Yikes.”
Chloe managed a tired smile. “That’s exactly the word I used.”
The door opened again, and Chloe’s heart jumped before she could stop it. She turned, hope flaring and collapsing when it wasn’t Robin.
Danica followed her gaze, then sighed. “You’re really worried.”
“Yes,” Chloe admitted quietly. “I am.”
For once, Danica didn’t immediately make it about herself. She just nodded, expression shifting into something less arrogant and performative.
“Well,” she said, standing. “If she ditched you, that sucks. And if she didn’t, then I hope she’s okay.”
Chloe looked at her in surprise. “Thank you.”
Danica shrugged, already reaching for her bag again. “Don’t get used to it. And remember, I can do that job.”
Yeah. Not going to happen.
#
Kayne had learned to trust the quiet moments even less than the loud ones.
The gym was closing down for the night; the lights dimmed to that softer end-of-day glow that made everything look calmer than it ever was.
The construction crew was gone, tools locked up, the clang and drill replaced by the low hum of the HVAC system.
Chloe stood near the door, pulling on her jacket and talking through tomorrow’s schedule with Leo.
She’d handled the news about Robin remarkably well. Kayne wasn’t sure if it was shock or a refusal to think the worst, but she was hopeful that Robin would turn up tomorrow. He didn’t bother correcting her.
Now, Kayne listened to them talking with half an ear. The other half tracked shadows, reflections, and the way sound carried when a building thought it was empty.
That was when he saw movement.
A figure lingered near the locker room entrance, hood pulled low, posture drawn inward as if he was trying to disappear into the wall. Kayne’s instincts snapped tight.
“Chloe,” he said quietly, already moving.
The figure startled and turned when Kayne closed the distance in three strides. He grabbed the man’s arm and spun him into the wall before he could decide whether to bolt.
The hood slipped back.
The guy staring up at him looked young and pale, with genuine panic in his wide brown eyes. There was something familiar about him. His hands came up instinctively, palms open, breath hitching as he tried to draw air.
“I—I wasn’t—” he stammered.
“Kayne, stop,” Chloe said firmly, right behind him. “Don’t hurt him.”
Kayne kept his grip tight but eased the pressure enough to reassess. The man wasn’t fighting. Fear rolled off him in raw, unfiltered waves.
“Who are you?” Kayne asked, voice level and unimpressed.
The guy swallowed hard. “I-I work for Sandy. On the website.”
“His name is Aiden,” Chloe said quickly. “Aiden Kerr. He’s Sandy’s assistant.”
Kayne flicked his gaze to Chloe, then back to the man. “And what are you doing lurking near the locker rooms after hours, Aiden?”
Aiden shook his head too fast. “I wasn’t lurking. I was looking for Ms. Giordano. I’ve never been here before. I don’t know the layout.”
“What is it, Aiden?” Chloe asked.
His shoulders hunched. “Sandy and Evan asked me to bring you these reports from yesterday. She thought it would be better in person instead of email.”
Kayne studied him, noting the way his eyes slid away under scrutiny, how his body folded inward, clearly uncomfortable with attention. Shy, Chloe had said before. Awkward. Someone who wilted under pressure.
Or someone who knew exactly how to look harmless.
Kayne finally released him, though he stayed close, his body angled in a way that left no doubt he could close that distance again in a heartbeat.
“What kind of reports?” Chloe asked gently.
Aiden gestured to the backpack clutched to his chest. “The first one is site analytics. You had a spike in visitors after the, uh, event. Over five hundred thousand new sign-ups.”
Chloe gasped.
“No such thing as bad press,” Anja murmured.
“What else?” Kayne prompted.
Aiden looked decidedly uncomfortable. He dug a paper out of his bag and handed it to Kayne. He opened it, and his blood instantly ran cold. Chloe gasped again.
You won’t see me until it’s too late.
It was the same message left on the note by Chloe’s computer.
“Where did you get this?” Kayne demanded.
Aiden jumped as if poked by a cattle prod, and Kayne realized he’d practically yelled the question.
“I-it was a website comment.”
“Is there any way to trace it?” Anja wanted to know.
“No, and we tried.” Aiden shifted from one foot to the other. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone,” he insisted. “I swear.”
“How did you get in here?” Kayne asked. He hadn’t come through the front door, or Kayne would’ve seen him.
“Over there.” He pointed toward a side door that was propped open carelessly.
Kayne’s jaw clenched. The construction crew must have forgotten to close it. That meant they’d disabled the alarm. He’d have to deal with them tomorrow. Anja ran over to secure it. “Next time, you announce yourself.”
Aiden nodded, rubbing his arm where Kayne had grabbed him. “Yes. I will. I’m sorry.”
Chloe gave him a small, reassuring smile. “We’ve just had a day. Bad timing all around.”
Aiden let out a weak laugh. “Yeah. Bad timing.”
As they headed for the front door a few minutes later, Kayne glanced back toward the locker room hallway, now empty and quiet again. The air felt settled, but not right. He’d learned not to ignore that distinction.
He didn’t miss the way Aiden lingered a beat before leaving, or how his shoulders relaxed only after Chloe turned away. Kayne didn’t know who Aiden Kerr really was, but his instincts were already tagging the encounter.
Another name. Another variable. Too many of those lately ended badly.