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“I’m worried about you, man. They’ll find her. Just come home,” Travis rambled on for, what it seemed like, the hundredth time into the mobile he had given me earlier. He’d mentioned I would need it for work.
I didn’t need a fucking phone.
I needed Mia and not this bloody picture, the polaroid picture I’d been holding in my jittery hands. The first picture we’d ever taken together.
Her. I need her—all of her.
“I’m okay,” I lied. “I’ll ring you in the morning with an update.” Another lie. And there was nothing to slam shut with the stupid mobile to ease my frustration. So, I pressed my finger into the red button harder than what was necessary before throwing it over the bed in the motel room.
I refused to walk into our home without her. I’d imagined the day we’d walk through the front door of our home so many times, and it wouldn’t be the same if she weren’t by my side.
I couldn’t sit still, repeatedly pacing the motel room with a rented car waiting in the car park. Every precious second was wasted without looking for her, and though it was almost midnight, I still shoved a hoodie over my head, swiped the keys off the dresser, and walked out the door without a destination or solid clue as to where she could be.
The drive was pointless, but my mind couldn’t stop replaying every interaction from today that lead me here: the smile Mia had on her face after waking, saying she was ready for a lifetime of mornings and coffee in bed. The lovemaking shortly after had been proof she couldn’t imagine anything different than the two of us. Mia wasn’t a liar. Her head may play tricks on her, but her eyes and heart were honest. She’d promised to meet me. She wouldn’t have left me. Something was wrong.
After she didn’t show, I’d spent hours checking every room, looking over every floor, talking with Jake, Tyler, questioning every fucking person inside the walls of Dolor. Lynch had been pre-occupied with a suicide in a classroom, and a part of me believed Mia’s disappearance and the suicide all happening on the same day wasn’t a coincidence.
It had been fifteen hours since I’d seen her, ten hours since anyone had seen her.
Where are you, love?
I’d driven through the black night around the surrounding towns of Guildford before stopping the car on the side of the road. One second, I was sitting inside the vehicle, the next, I was standing over the wet pavement, unable to breathe. Headlights rushed past, people trying to get home, but I was lost without Mia, the only home I’d ever known. Each car that flew by couldn’t see I was standing here suffocating, and I kicked the tire before crumbling to the ground with my back against the wet vehicle. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do,” I shouted to no one. Zeke wasn’t here to shove the broken pieces back at me.
It took less than five minutes to realize sitting out here in the cold rain wasn’t going to get me closer to her, and less than five minutes to know I couldn’t do this on my own.
I got back into the car and dialed Jinx, the security guard from Dolor, who became a good mate over the two-year sentence. He answered on the third ring, music blaring in the background with a fog of conversation. “Who’s this?”
“Masters. I need a favor.”
“Whoa, Oliver Masters. I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon.”
“I need Lynch’s address.” There was no time for chit chat. I’d seen him earlier at Dolor, and we’d exchanged numbers. For hours, he’d helped me turn Dolor upside down. How was the entire world able to move on with their lives knowing Mia was missing? How was he at a fucking party at this time?
“Yeah, okay. Been there once to deliver something. Foxenden Court off Chertsey. Flat 8. Don’t tell him I—”
I hung up and steered back onto the road, making my next left over the slick street.
Ten minutes later, I pulled up to the red brick building and pushed the gear into park. Rain fell over me as I ran through the door and up the stairs, wasting no time. My body shivered from either the cold, impatience, or anger … I couldn’t tell anymore, only pounded my fist over the door of Lynch’s flat, most likely waking the entire building.
Lynch opened the door in his plaid pajamas with a baseball bat in one hand. “Oliver,” he gritted his teeth, “It’s been a long day. I don’t have the energy for this, and how did you find my address?”
“Your daughter is fucking missing!” I pushed my way through his door and into the flat. It was small and minimal, and I spun around as he dropped the bat beside the door frame and ran the back of his hands over his eyes. “Wake up, Lynch. I’m not leaving until I get answers.”
“You have no business being in my home, let alone at this hour of the night,” he grumbled as he strolled over to his kitchenette and flipped on the coffee maker. “I should call the police, boy.” But his actions went against his words. Deep down, Lynch cared about Mia. And he wouldn’t call the police on me because I was the only other person who gave a damn about his daughter.
“Please! Call them,” I challenged with my hands in the air. I’d called earlier, and they weren’t much help. But if the dean of the reformatory school called, maybe they’d see the importance of a missing girl.
Lynch shoveled coffee grounds into his pot, mumbling incoherently to himself and ignoring my frustration. “I talked to Bruce. Mia has a history of ru
Travis said the same bloody thing, but I knew Mia. “If you’d taken the time to get to know your daughter, you’d see she isn’t like that anymore.” Mia was smart. She wouldn’t have given up so quickly at the first chance of ru
Lynch pulled a mug from the cupboard and turned to face me. “I knew her mother, and her mother ran off back to Pe
Mia never spoke much of her mum, but this didn’t change anything. “You’re wrong about her,” I stood and leaned my elbows over the kitchen counter, separating us, “Somethings not right. I can’t put my finger on it, but something went down at your school. I can feel her. I can’t explain it, but she’s in trouble.”
“You don’t look so good, Oliver. You look tired.”
The wanker was deflecting.
My jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” I gritted out.
The coffee pot beeped, and Lynch turned away from me. “If you want my advice, go home. She’ll turn up eventually. Bruce said he’d call if he hears from her. Until then, there’s nothing I can do.”
“So, that’s it? No missing person’s report? You don’t even care enough to notify authorities?”
Lynch laughed, pouring himself a cup, then sprinkled in sugar. His nonchalant behavior only set every irritated nerve on fire, and he brought the mug to his mouth before saying, “You honestly believe anyone is going to take Mia seriously with her history? The authorities won’t give a missing person’s report the time of day. Go home, Oliver. If a week passes and she doesn’t show, I’ll go to the police. Until then, move on with your life. I’m sure she’s just fine. Do you have somewhere to go?”