Mom totally knew what he and Sarah had been up to. Oddly, his shoulders eased with a modicum of relief. Then his mind leapt to him and Sarah having the run of the house. Alone. Or would she want to return to Gage’s?
A bolt of awareness jarred him. “What time is it?” He snatched his phone from the counter. “Fuck!” She’s an hour late!
His mother gasped. “Quinn Anthony Hadley, you’ve been so good lately—”
He corralled his galloping heart. No texts, no calls. “Swear jar. I know. I’ll take care of it later,” he mumbled. He rose, found his socks and shoes, and began pulling them on while his mind scattered in a dozen different directions. Keys. Jacket. Mom. “Will you be all right on your own for a little while?
“Yes, of course. But where are you going?”
Not wanting to worry her, he tossed out the first thing that came to mind. “I forgot I promised Sarah I’d … get her a new 3-D puzzle since I finished her last one. I want to have it here before she gets back.”
“But the stores aren’t—”
“Governor Polis said they can reopen with a limited number of customers.” He ignored the bewildered look playing over his mother’s face, giving her a kiss on her cheek before jogging to the garage.
“Don’t forget a mask,” his mother called.
In the truck, he hit Sarah’s number. After one ring, it went straight to voicemail. He hit the number again and listened to the same damn message as he threw the vehicle into reverse and backed out. He slammed the truck into drive and tore out to the street.
During the frantic trip to Nelson’s, he tried Sarah’s number repeatedly. “Come on, come on! Pick up!” he hissed, but Sarah didn’t answer. He left her a few messages, telling himself her phone might have died and she didn’t have a charger. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? But she would have been home by now, dead phone or not. Maybe her car died too.
He hit Nelson’s number, trying to keep his voice casual when his buddy answered. After the obligatory greeting, he got down to it. “Sarah was gonna head over to your house at some point today, but I don’t remember when. Have you heard from her?”
“Not yet. She said she’d text me once she was done checking things out.”
“So the last time you heard from her was—”
“Yesterday afternoon sometime?” A note of suspicion was creeping into Nelson’s voice, so Quinn gave him a quick, “No big deal. Thanks, man,” and hung up.
He pulled in front of Gage and Lily’s house behind a gray Mercedes SUV. Parked cars crowded the narrow street, but Sarah’s Jeep was nowhere in sight.
“Fuck!” He pounded the steering wheel. “Where are you, Sunshine?”
Maybe she’d driven the Jeep a block away because there hadn’t been any spaces open. In the meantime, he’d check the house. What if she fell, was hurt inside? He switched the truck off and grabbed his phone. Leapt out and slammed the door. Rounded the hood. Ran up the walkway and peered in a window. Jogged the perimeter of the house, peering in more windows.
There were no signs of Sarah or Archer.
Panic welled inside him. Where could she have gone? Metro Denver’s population was over three million. Where the fuck should he start looking?
He stood at the back corner of the house, absently scanning the yard while he grasped at possibilities. A picket fence and building framed the back edge of the lot. A garage! He raced along the outer line of the fence until he reached the detached building. A flash of teal caught his eye, and he slowed his steps.
Sarah’s Jeep was parked off the alley, stashed behind the garage. He approached cautiously, peeking in the windows, trying the door handles. Locked up tight, and still no signs of Sarah or Archer.
A sound like a low whoof drifted toward him, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. He circled the detached garage until he found the service door. He turned the knob, poised to open it, when a shriek from the house wrenched his attention that way. His blood turned cold.
He lunged through the gate and ran across the yard to the back door.
Chapter 31
Wolf Reintroduction Project
"There’s nothing more to say, Wolf! Now give me back my keys!” Sarah kept the rising panic from her voice by channeling frustration, anger, and dread into a screeching forcefulness she didn’t feel.
Wolf had been lying in wait—for her to show herself, for a chance to plead his case, for one last shot. And it had paid off because now he had her cornered, her phone and keys held hostage, her dog tethered by a short leash to a refrigerator foot that immobilized him. All Archer could do was vocalize his distress.
At first, Wolf had invited her to sit at the kitchen table while he declared his promises, while he’d tearfully begged her to return to Seattle, while he’d listed the reasons she belonged to him. He’d been carving the same hopeless circle around the same futile conversation. When she’d had enough, she’d told him so. Since that moment, his tenuous hold on reality seemed to slip, his voice taking on an eerie, icy calm that unsettled her with each passing minute.
Was Wolf capable of violence? She’d never seen it, but the man across the table wasn’t the one she’d once loved. He’d always been lean, but now he resembled a cadaverous collection of skin-encased bones. And his face, once sharp, proud, and patrician, was a gaunt version of its former self, lending his glacial eyes a sunken, haunted look. The overall effect was that of someone unhinged—and fucking dangerous.
For Sarah, what began as outrage over his audacious ambush—and impatience with
