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Out of everything I’ve done, stalking Rylan is the part that hurts the most. It hurt yesterday. It hurts now.
She’s obsessed with me. Territorial. She’s made sure I stayed single.
That said, I can’t just forget the good in her. The nights we’d stayed up late to watch movies together. Our swimming competitions. Her genuine laughs and smiles when she shared her stories with me.
What about the ones she didn’t share? The ones lying dead in the garden in your backyard? Can you forget about them? About the fact that pretending they’re not there landed you and Leighton in this place?
I rake my fingers through my hair on the way to the office. That was then. This is now.
Blaming myself won’t help us out of this mess, and it’s a big fucking mess we’re in. It’s up to me to clean this shit up. For the three of us.
And I will.
By keeping Rylan away until Leighton realizes she’s mine. That’s how I’ll do it.
A few clicks on my computer open my secure connection. A few more have the CCTV app live on my screen.
Nine cameras are spread out throughout the property, and I start by watching what happened in each and every one of them since last night.
Nothing out of the ordinary, it appears. Rylan cleaned the glass she smashed against the garage wall once she found out Leighton and I were gone, then spent the rest of her day on her laptop.
What’s she doing now, though?
I’ve returned to the live feed to watch Rylan sitting on the couch in our living room. She wears one of her favorite pink crop tops, a white pair of jeans. Her long black hair is in a bun on the top of her head.
Her laptop is propped on her lap and she’s typing furiously. The angle of the CCTV camera is all wrong and I can’t see what’s on her screen. Not like I need to.
She’s searching for clues. Searching for us.
And someone’s there to help her.
Fucking Milo.
The blond kid paces back and forth on the rug in front of her. His eyes are transfixed on his cell phone, though he’s not touching it. I’m willing to bet money the screen is black. That he’s waiting for a sign of life from Leighton.
“Milo, seriously.” Rylan looks up from her laptop, flashing him her sweet, deceiving smile. “Call off your dad’s search. They’re alive. I mean, checking in with every hospital in a fifty-mile radius? Talk about overkill.”
“Overkill? I’m worried. How come you’re not?” Milo snaps at her, and I want to break his neck. “Your dad and your best friend are missing. They might be dead, and you’re here thinking that, what? They’ll magically appear on your laptop?”
I bristle at the tone he’s taking with her. My daughter and I have our disagreements. That doesn’t make me any less protective of her. She might be volatile and lack the ability to show empathy or feel remorse.
Doesn’t matter.
She’s my daughter, and he’s raising his voice at her.
My hands clench into fists on my work desk, my teeth grinding. If Leighton’s life wasn’t on the line, I’d drive over there right this minute. My hand would wrap so nicely around his throat for ever thinking it was acceptable for him to talk to Ry like that.
“Don’t be silly, Milo.” Rylan, who could tackle just about any man or woman alive on her own beams at him. “My dad is very much alive.”
Her lips stretch wider, baring more of her teeth. A predator’s smile only a rare few will be able to recognize.
Matter of fact, only one person could.
Me.
“I feel him.” Her fingers swipe along the laptop keyboard. When Rylan types, she looks like a skilled pianist. “I always feel him and I’m telling you he’s not dead.”
“What about Leighton?” The man-child returns to pacing in his crumpled designer jeans and T-shirt. “Do you feel her?”
