Colton repeated the words his attorney had told him to say. “I do, your honor.”
There was more procedural stuff. A date was set for the preliminary hearing where he would officially enter a plea. The judge announced a thirty-thousand-dollar bond. And then it was over. Court officers led him out of the courtroom to the holding cell where five other defendants awaited their turn. In all, it took ten minutes from start to finish, but an entire lifetime had passed. From this point on, his career would be marred by the images of this short hearing. His unshaven face. His bruised knuckles. The orange jail suit.
An hour later, he posted bail, changed back into his clothes, and walked out the front door of the courthouse into a throng of reporters. His attorney and a beefy man Colton had never seen elbowed through them, ignored all shouted questions, and ushered him into the back seat of a black SUV.
The beefy guy took the wheel, and his attorney climbed into the passenger seat.
“Where’s my dad?”
“I sent him home as soon as the hearing ended,” Desiree said. “Buck wants you to go home and get some rest, and we’ll reconvene tonight.”
“I need my phone.”
Desiree handed it back in a plastic bag that also held his wallet. The battery on his phone was in the red, the screen a stack of unread notifications, mostly about texts from his friends. Only one was from Gretchen. A two-word text that read, I’m sorry.
He called her number. When she didn’t pick up, he texted. Stop apologizing. I’m on my way home.
No response.
Colton called his mother next. She answered breathlessly. “Are you okay? Is it over? Where are you?”
“On my way home.”
“Thank God.”
“Can you put Gretchen on the phone? She’s not answering.”
His mother paused.
“Mom.”
“She’s not here.”
The world skidded to a stop in his brain. “Where’d she go?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to call her, but she’s not answering me either. I didn’t even know she’d left. I was in the kitchen, and when I came out she was just gone.”
His phone chimed with a warning about the battery. “Mom, I’ll call you back.”
“Honey, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He ended the call and leaned forward between the front seats. “We need to turn around.”
Desiree looked back. “Why?”
“I need to pick up Gretchen.”
“Colton, I highly advise you against going out in public right now. The best thing you can do is go home, hunker down for a few days, and let the team handle this.”
“Turn around, or I’m jumping out at the next light.”
The beefy driver looked uncertainly at the attorney, who finally sighed and said, “Do it.”
Colton rattled off the address to Gretchen’s house. If she wasn’t there, he’d go to her office next. And if she wasn’t there, he’d go back to the place where this entire nightmare started and finish the job until her fucking family told him where she was.
The driver pulled a U-turn at the next light, ignored the honk of an annoyed motorist trying to turn right, and sped through the intersection. With the last ounce of power in his phone, Colton tried to call her again.
Still no answer.
The SUV had barely stopped before Colton leaped from the back seat and jogged up the front walk to her house. He pressed the intercom button and leaned into the microphone. “Let me in, Gretchen.”
No response.
“My car is here, Gretchen. That means you’re here.”
Silence.
“Dammit, Gretchen. I know what you’re doing, and I am not letting you run away again.”
The intercom finally crackled with her voice. “Can you please stop yelling?”
“Let me in, and I’ll think about it.”
He heard the lock release on the stairs to her apartment. He burst through the door and took the stairs two at a time. By the time he reached the top, he was winded and sweaty. Long, hurried steps took him to the end of the hallway, where her door remained shut.
He pounded on it with the palm of his hand, sending the wreath he’d given her crashing to the floor. The door flew open, and she stood before him still wearing his sweatpants and T-shirt. His too-big socks had stretched out and hung off her toes like two floppy flippers. Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, and her face bore the streaks of tears. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Let me in.”