CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BLAIR
S tepping out of the bathroom, I start toward the foyer, then push open the large wooden doors. I’m expecting to see Blair—she should be waiting for me—but she isn’t there.
I scoff and step further outside. “Come on, don’t play with me, Blair. We have to go.” I’m expecting to hear her voice or even a giggle, something to give away her position, but there is nothing but silence.
My smile falls, and my brows furrow. “Blair?” I don’t even say her name loud enough to be a whisper.
As I take another step, my foot catches on something on the ground. Looking down, I see my jacket crumpled up and my phone lying beside it. I squat down, picking up the expensive fabric with one hand, my phone in the other. The screen is shattered and flickering with black lines.
I glance out to the parking lot and notice there isn’t a single car other than mine. No people either, but a spot down the steps catches my eye. Standing back to my full height, I walk toward it, squinting my eyes as I do, trying to make out the dark stain.
My stomach lurches once I’m close enough to see what it is, and I freeze.
My phone and jacket, blood, and no Blair.
My breath catches in my throat, and panic floods my system. I kneel down quickly, touching the spot just to make sure it’s real. The liquid is cold on my fingers and sends a shiver down my spine.
No. No . This can’t be happening.
“Blair!” I yell out, my mouth working before my brain can even catch up, but there is no answer.
My heart is pounding against my ribs, racing so fast I can’t even think clearly, can’t even catch my breath. I look around again, frantic, searching the parking lot for any other signs of her, but there is nothing.
I call her name again.
Silence.
Pushing myself to my feet, my gaze still darting back and forth, I run toward my Jeep.
Throwing open the door, I shove my jacket and phone into the seat, then reach for my keys in my pocket.
My hands fumble and shake as I try to put them into the ignition.
Once they’re seated, I twist them, then slam the gear shift into drive.
My door closes as I peel out of the parking lot.
I tear down the road, my eyes locked on the path in front of me, but my mind keeps going back to the church. The blood. Someone hurt her. She’s hurt. My girl is hurt.
I have to find her.
I pull into the reception hall parking lot within what feels like seconds and slide to a halt. Without wasting any more time, I throw it in park, then rush toward the entrance. The doors swing open as I step inside.
I scan the room, hoping maybe, just maybe, I’ll catch a glimpse of her red hair.
The guests are mingling, completely oblivious to my panic, but Blair isn’t there.
The band is playing through the laughter and chatter of everyone, but I can’t focus on it.
Everything feels so far away. She’s gone, and something is wrong.
Spotting my dad and Sylvia at the front of the room, I march toward them.
When I stop in front of their table, my dad holds up his hand. “Not now, Sha?—”
“Blair is gone!” I snap around him.
Sylvia’s eyes grow wide as she lays the napkin in her hand down. “What do you mean gone?”
“The church—she was supposed to wait for me outside, but she’s gone. Someone took her, I think. There was blood.” I can’t even think clearly enough to form a coherent sentence, but I don’t need to.
The mention of blood is all that was needed to get their attention.
“Shay,” Sylvia starts, but it isn’t her normal cool, easygoing voice. It’s laced with desperation and fear. “I need you to take a breath and tell me what happened.”
I nod, taking a steadying breath, but it doesn’t help much. The panic is still clawing at me. Sylvia motions for me to sit, but I can’t. I’m on edge, and I know if I don’t act, I’ll lose time.
Quickly, I recap everything I just told them, adding in as many details as I can remember.
Sylvia’s eyes flicker, and she finally stands up, grabbing the train of her dress. “We have to go,” she mumbles. “The text. That fucking text.”
As she rounds the table, I catch her arm. “What text? What are you talking about?”
Tears well in her eyes. “I got a strange message earlier—right before we got here. It said, ‘Consider this my wedding gift.’ I didn’t think much of it and thought maybe it was one of your dad’s colleagues from the firm or something letting me know they’d cover his cases so we can have a honeymoon after all. I don’t know,” she starts to hiccup.
I feel my blood run cold as she speaks. Suddenly, my feelings don’t matter anymore. Sylvia clearly has information, but I can’t get it if she’s crying.
“Sylvia,” I start, rubbing her bicep gently. “It’s okay. We will get this figured out, but you need to tell us more.”
Her face tightens. “I dated this guy years ago—back in high school. His name was Richard Slane, and he didn’t take our breakup well.
For years, he would watch me and send unwanted gifts to my house.
It had finally slowed down a bit when I married Blair’s dad because he was adamant about going to the cops and making them do something, but the peace was short-lived. ”
She pauses to take a breath.
“But then he was back and more violent. He swore he and I were supposed to be together, but anytime I rejected him or ignored him, he would just get more angry. Right before my last husband’s accident, we thought we were finally free, though.
The cops showed us a death certificate with his name, age, everything.
“But when my husband died, I’d get these weird messages.
They wouldn’t say anything—just blank messages from a number I never had saved.
It seemed innocent, but it still made me uneasy, even though I knew Richard was dead.
That’s the reason I moved us here. It wasn’t until we were out of town for my dress fitting that I got another blank message.
I don’t know how to describe it, but I just had a pit in my stomach.
It’s why your dad and I came home early, but I haven’t received anything since until tonight. ”
My mind starts to race again, and I can’t stop myself anymore.
Looking at my dad, I start walking toward the door. “Dad, now is the time you call in every fucking favor from judges, governors, hell, I don’t know. Anyone you can think of to get any information on this dude.”
I glance back at Sylvia as they hustle behind me. “Sylvia, I’ll drive. You tell my dad everything. Can you describe what he looks like?”
We push out the doors, and I help her down the steps, then into my waiting Jeep.
“He was always changing his appearance, but I have an old yearbook at the house.”
I nod and throw the car into park. “Good.”
My dad unlocks his phone from the back seat. “I’ll have the cops meet us at the house.”
I nod again, feeling like I’m running on pure adrenaline. I can’t stop moving, can’t stop thinking about Blair, about how much time we’ve already wasted.