Page 110 of No Headlines Please

Once I told him, there'd be no taking it back. But until I did, I had to make sure she didn't slip away, leaving me with nothing to say except that I'd lost her.

To Cal, I replied, "Because their story's full of shit."

He shook his head. "Whose story?"

I started counting off on my fingers. "Ryder Vaughn. Tessa Sinclair." I dropped my hand. "Hell, the whole Sinclair family for all I know."

During the past couple of weeks, the mom's social media page had mentioned Tessa maybe a dozen times and Delaney only once, saying Delaney was, in the mom's words, "probably bumming on the beach."

Probably.

As if she couldn't be bothered to find out.

Plus, the story was utter bullshit – unless that seventh floor apartment had suddenly sprouted sand and surf.

When Cal just looked at me, I added, "I'm just saying, she's not exactly missing."

"Delaney."

"Right."

"Why?" he scoffed. "Because we didn't find her chained up in a basement?"

At the image, my blood pressure spiked along with my temper. "No. Because if any of them had just driven a few fucking hours to that house where she'd been living for years—"

"Apartment," Cal corrected. "The lower unit, remember?"

I stared across the desk. "Fine. Half a house. But that doesn't change the point."

It really didn't. Until maybe a month ago, Delaney's address hadn't changed. Neither had her phone number.

Hell, she'd been easier to find than most CEOs.

And yet everyone kept acting like she'd vanished into thin air.

Something was definitely off. I recalled what Delaney had said the last time we'd talked – assuming I could call it a conversation. She'd been using some pretty loaded language.

Stalking.

Hounding.

Hell, she'd even threatened to call the FBI.

And now that I'd gotten some distance, I was starting to wonder if I'd been reading some of it wrong.

Maybe I wasn't the one who'd gotten her so rattled.

Maybe she'd felt threatened by something else.

Normally, I trusted my instincts. But with Delaney, they'd obviously steered me wrong, which made part of me think Cal was right.

Maybe I should drop it, tell Ryder where she was and move on.

With Carver out of the picture, I wasn't even sure Ryder cared.

But I did.

And my instincts still weren't backing down. Before I could stop myself, I was already saying, "Let's give it a few more days."