Marissa motioned Blake to her side and gave the driveway a longing look, no doubt hoping for Kara’s car to appear. “Come on,” she said. “We can wait inside.”
“That’s what I said,” her father grouched.
They were greeted by a soaring foyer with winding wooden stairs to the second floor. The floor plan was open. Walls were drenched in earth tones and family photos of the Lanes over the years. A fire roared in an exquisite stone fireplace at the head of their gathering room.
Blake took note of the expansive windows throughout and patio doors in both the dining and kitchen area. Too many access points. “Do you have a home security system, Mr. Lane?”
Marissa’s dad cast a look over his shoulder as they moved past the stairs toward the kitchen. “The wife and I have matching rifles and fifty years’ experience knocking dust off tin cans. Does that count?”
Everything about him said he’d hit more than tin cans. “It helps,” Blake admitted, “but a direct line to the authorities would be better. I’d like to station a man here until this blows over.”
Mr. Lane stopped moving where wide-planked wooden floors turned to mosaic tile. “I’ll accept help during the night shift. I can handle things during the day.”
That was reasonable, but unacceptable. His dad would have to bring a rocker and sit on the porch then. “I’d also like to see Kara stay with you for a few days,” Blake said.
“What about Marissa?” her father asked.
With enough men stationed here, Blake could probably keep her safe. He could take double shifts and bring additional people to protect the property. Hell, his cousin owned a private security firm, but something told Blake not to let her out of his sight. Whether it was professional instinct or plain personal interest, he couldn’t say and didn’t care. “I think she’s safer with my team, sir.”
Marissa squeezed between the men. “I smell coffee. Is there coffee?” She grabbed Blake’s wrist and towed him to a granite-topped island. “Black?”
“Yes.” He swung his attention to her mother who busily tapped her cell phone screen. “When did you get the last text from Kara?”
Marissa set a mug in front of him, then lined four more cups on the counter. She filled three to their rims and eagerly lifted one to her lips.
Her mom folded her arms, clearly uneasy. “Not long ago. Maybe forty minutes, but she was finishing a hike. Then, she needed to run home for some clean things to change into.”
Marissa’s shoulders collapsed. The coffee danced inside her mug from the slight trembles wracking her upper body.
Blake imagined folding her against his chest and telling her everything was going to be okay. Hell, if he could just put a hand over hers like he had in his truck, but she was flanked by her parents. A moment later, she leaned into her dad. “We were just at her house. She wasn’t there.”
Her mom paled. “Why were you at her house? Do you think something happened to her? What aren’t you telling us?”
Blake ran his thumbs over the screen of his phone. “I’ll check with Cole and see if she showed after we left, or if the neighbors remember seeing her before we got there.”
He lifted his eyes to Marissa and her parents. “I’m truly sorry to be here under these circumstances. What does Kara drive and which direction would she have been coming? You said she’d planned to stop at her home before coming here?”
Marissa tapped her phone screen, presumably still trying to reach her sister. “She drives a Jeep like Mom and me. It’s gunmetal gray. She bought it new last summer.” She pressed the heel of one hand against her right eye. “She was hiking when I talked to her, too.”
Her mother’s jaw dropped. “You spoke to her? All I get are texts and little cartoon faces.”
“I called her. She answered.” Marissa set her phone on the counter. “I wish she’d just answer now.”
Blake sent the make and model of Kara’s car to his and West’s teams. “Where was she hiking? We can contact gas stations between there and her home.”
Marissa’s face reddened. “I didn’t ask.”
Mrs. Lane let out a sharp breath and fixed Blake with a pointed stare. “She wouldn’t be in the national park after what happened to Marissa, but there’s no telling where she went. Now. Enough of this. Tell me what’s going on and why my daughters are involved.”
Mr. Lane crossed his arms and moved beside his wife.
Blake pushed his cup aside, shoring up the energy to lay it all out from the beginning. “It started for me about five years ago.”
Forty-five minutes later, and seated around the living room with Marissa at his side, the story had been told, and the Lanes’ questions had all been answered. Expect for the most important one. Where was Kara?
No one had seen her, and she hadn’t answered her phone in two hours.
The realization that Kara wasn’t coming arrived on the heels of a detailed description from Marissa about the last two days, including the strange luggage and ominous veil on Kara’s porch.
Blake had let her take the lead on those events. They were hers to tell, personal in ways he wished they weren’t. He’d filled in the larger aspects of the case and the role he’d played in it from the beginning.
Marissa pressed her hands to her face and stifled a small sob, the first she’d allowed today, despite all she’d seen. To Blake’s surprise, she leaned against his side and set her head against his shoulder.
Blake wrapped an arm around her and turned his mouth toward her hair. “We’ll find her, I promise.” He inhaled the soft scent of her shampoo and imagined idly waking up to it every morning. The notion took him off guard. Blake hadn’t had thoughts like that in a very long time. Reasonably so. Still, he liked the idea of knowing Marissa long after
