Chapter 7 Jake
Jake woke at dawn, in the wrong bed, but one he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with. That must be what the deep-rooted, twisting feeling in his stomach was about. He was just in an unexpected place. Nothing else bad. Merely temporary disorientation.
Where was he?
He sat up, looking about the room, noting the green curtains, the palm prints framed on the wall, the pale green sheets with a tiny floral print he was lying on.
Ah, right. The guest room at Tilly and Burt’s, his soon-to-be in-laws.
He’d stayed over. He blinked, rubbed his eyes.
They had come to his and Liv’s place for a while last night, then taken him home with them. But why?
Something weird.
There had been police.
No. No. No, no, no, no.
Liv disappearing at the quarry.
Him screaming her name, searching for her, underwater, through the forest. Hair, reeds, slipping through his fingers.
That can’t have really happened. It was all a nightmare. Just vicious, pre-wedding dreams.
She would be in the ensuite bathroom right now.
In a moment, she’d come out and smile at him.
She’d be naked, gently lit in the cool morning light.
She’d let him admire her body for a moment, the full swell of her breasts, her generous nipples, the hourglass of her waist and hips, which always made him want to play her like a cello.
She’d laugh at his rapt expression and slide into bed, kissing him, running her fingertips down his stomach, shushing him when he groaned so her folks wouldn’t hear.
They’d silently make love, her on top of him, rocking her body to fulfilment.
She’d muffle a cry into a pillow as she came, and they’d chuckle again, holding each other.
He sank back onto the bed. Waited for the sound of water running in the bathroom, the flush of the toilet.
And waited.
And waited.
Silence.
She wasn’t in there.
She wasn’t anywhere.
His keen ears picked up a more distant sound. A strangled sobbing cry, high-pitched. Tilly, Liv’s sweet mom. A man’s voice, low tones pleading. Burt. Liv’s poor parents.
Jake pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, wondering when he’d last seen his cellphone. Liv might be calling him. Where was it? He had to find it.
He padded lightly down the wide stairs of the Graingers’ elegant home, making his way to the great room, immaculately decorated in the beachy blues and grays Liv had designed.
In the white kitchen, clutching the marble island counter, Tilly was exhaling controlled breaths, her blonde hair uncharacteristically unkempt.
Burt, ever gruff and practical, was making green tea by the kettle.
They both stared at Jake blankly, as if they had no idea what he was doing in their home.
“Uh, hi.” Jake walked over the island and took a stool. If he looked directly at Tilly he might start blubbing like a baby all over again. He’d done enough of that yesterday. Tilly didn’t seem able to look at him either.
“Morning, Jake,” Burt replied. “Coffee? Green tea?”
“None, thanks. Have you guys seen my cellphone? I don’t want to miss . . . any calls.”
Burt nodded to the sideboard. “It’s charging. How did you sleep?”
“Like I was drugged,” Jake admitted. He slipped off the stool, crossing the room to unplug the phone.
Glancing at it, he saw several missed calls, but nothing from Liv.
Sucking in a breath, he walked back to the island and resumed his seat.
He murmured, “I barely remember anything after the cops arrived at the quarry.”
Burt placed a mug of tea in front of his trembling wife. “We had to bring you home after the police left your place. You were kind of out of it. Not quite catatonic, you were responsive, but barely. I gave you and Tilly each an Ambien. You’ve had a terrible shock, son. We all have.”
“I can’t feel anything. I’ve no clue what’s happening.” Jake gripped the counter tightly, just like Tilly was. “Where is she, Burt? I don’t understand any of this.”
Burt’s expression was grim. “I dunno, son. The police are coming here this morning. They want to talk to us some more. The way she disappeared, without even any clothes, her engagement ring left behind . . . They’re taking this very seriously.” Liv’s imposing father stared down at him.
Deeply uncomfortable, Jake broke eye contact. Yes, Mr. Grainger, Liv was naked. We did have sex in broad daylight just moments before she vanished off the face of the earth.
He nodded. “Good, I’m glad they’re taking it seriously,” he replied.
“We need a major search party in the forest, right now. The only thing I can think is that she ran to hide in the trees, and somehow got hurt and couldn’t respond to me, or was unconscious or .
. . something. She could be out there. It wasn’t a cold night, right?
She’d still be okay. That’s the only possible solution. Aside from . . .” Jake stopped.
“Aside from if she’s in the lake,” Burt finished for him.
Tilly, silent until this moment, let out a strangled noise. She rushed from the kitchen up the stairs, her tea untouched on the counter.
“We’ve got to be strong for them,” Burt said in a low tone. “No matter what has happened to Liv. Right, son?”
But Jake didn’t want to be strong. He wanted to sob and wail like Tilly. He wanted to beg the police to find her. He wanted to plead with the universe to give him his Liv back.
“Of course,” he managed. “Hey, what happened to Liv’s stuff? Her purse, her cellphone, her house keys?”
“We have it,” Burt replied, putting Tilly’s mug in front of Jake. “The police gave it to us last night. So we know Liv doesn’t even have her phone.” He nodded to where Liv’s sleek gold iPhone was lying on the coffee table.
Shit.
Jake drank Tilly’s bitter tea and spent an hour texting all his friends and immediate family members, especially those who were closest to Liv, starting with Nicole, her closest friend.
JAKE: Hey Nicole. Have you seen or spoken to Liv in the last 24 hours?
NICOLE: Nope. What’s up? Did you guys have a fight?
JAKE: No. We were at the quarry yesterday, celebrating our engagement anniversary. Liv went for a walk and, there’s no easy way to say this, but she basically vanished. I couldn’t find her and she didn’t come home last night. The cops are involved now. We have no idea where she could be.
NICOLE: WTF Jake?! That’s awful! Does she have her phone?
JAKE: She didn’t take anything with her. I have her cellphone and house keys. I was hoping she’d been in touch with you. We’re all super worried about her. I’m at her folks’ place, and the police are coming round soon. Hoping they’ll send out a search party.
NICOLE: OMG. No, I’ve heard nothing. Of course, I’ll call you immediately if I do. Fuck!! So sorry. Please let me know if there’s anything at all I can do, and keep us all posted, okay? I’ll call around. Talk to you soon. Hugs x
JAKE: Thanks Nicole, yeah, I totally will. Hopefully she’ll turn up and there’ll be a good story. Talk soon.
At just before 10 a.m., Liv’s sister Charlotte banged on the front door, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks as her dad let her in.
After giving her a kiss, Burt made his excuses, quickly escaping to the terrace.
Tilly hadn’t come downstairs after her tearful breakdown, so Jake and Charlotte were alone.
“Hey, Char,” Jake said, already exhausted.
She stood facing him. “What the hell? Jake! Oh my God!”
It hurt to look at her. Charlotte was fully six inches shorter than his fiancée, but her shoulder-length hair was so like Liv’s. Just the thought of those soft chestnut locks was enough to crush him.
“What happened? Mom said you guys were at the quarry and she just vanished. Without taking any of her stuff? How is that even possible?”
Jake shrugged. He had no words. His face began to crumple again.
“Oh, Jake, honey.” Charlotte led Jake to the couch like a child, sitting down with her arm around him, hugging him tight. Both of them were sniffing back tears.
“There’s got to be a good reason, we just don’t understand it yet,” Jake eventually replied, more to himself than Charlotte.
“And you found her ring? On a rock?”
Fuck. Did he still have it?
Jake dug around his shorts pocket, feeling the hard stone, the coldness of the platinum band. Thank Christ. It was as if he’d found a tiny piece of Liv. He pulled it out and handed it to Charlotte.
“Okay, we gotta keep this somewhere safer than your baggy pockets,” Charlotte muttered, staring at it. “She loves this ring. I got this for a while, okay? Just for safekeeping, until we find her.”
“Thanks.”
The doorbell rang, singing its overly cheerful little tune.
“That’ll be the cops,” Charlotte said, as she headed towards the door. “Dad said they’d be here at ten.”
She let the two men in, as Burt came in from the terrace. “I’ll go get Mom — she’ll want to be here for this.”
The cops stood awkwardly, taking care to keep to the hardwood floor and not step on the whiter-than-white rug.
“Mr. Grainger, Mr. Johnson,” the older one said, “How are you? I hope you folks managed to get some sleep.”
Burt gestured for them to sit. They were both young. The older one, clearly in charge, was a stocky, dark-haired guy of no more than thirty. His companion was an acne-covered, skinny young man in his early twenties who looked alarmed at the entire situation, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Thank you, Detective,” Burt replied. “Not much sleep, no. We’re all still in shock. Have you got any news? Hopefully my wife . . . ah, here she is now.”
The normally well-groomed Tilly was led into the great room by her younger daughter. She looked disheveled, her eyes red-rimmed, nose scarlet from crying. Charlotte sat her mother in the armchair across from Jake, perching herself on its arm before nodding at the policemen.
The detective politely half-stood while the women settled. “I’m Detective Adam Banks, and this is my trainee, Officer Gary Phelps. Thank you all for being here this morning. I know it’s difficult.” He looked enquiringly at Charlotte.