“Maybe he’s not done with you,” he says.
Something about the way he says it makes me go cold inside.
“If he gets in touch with you again,” he says, “I hope you’ll give me a call. Whatever you think he is, whoever you think he is, I’m betting you’re wrong. Don’t protect him.”
I try for a dismissive laugh, but it comes out a little too loud.
“He was just a guy I was seeing,” I say. “It wasn’t that serious. He took nothing. He ghosted me. That’s what you get for meeting a guy on Torch, right? It’s like you said. Most people only want one thing from sites like that. Casual hookups. Sex. When it’s over, it’s over. I’m the idiot for thinking it was more.”
Why are you lying? Robin asks. I think he’s trying to help you.
Bailey sees my eyes drift over to the fireplace, and his gaze follows mine, then comes back. The worried frown again. Do I seem unstable to him? Troubled, like the missing girls? Maybe I am.
“Look,” he says, “he used a fake name. He lied about his work, his address, all his profiles have been deleted. His phone was disconnected. He wanted something from you and didn’t get it. Yet. My guess is that he’s still circling you. That he’ll reach out.”
I remember one of your final texts. Something’s happened. I have to go. I’m sorry, Wren.
Something’s happened. Bailey Kirk happened. It’s obvious.
“Or he knew how close you were to finding him,” I say. “That must be why he took off, right? And now he’s gone for good.”
Bailey presses his mouth into a disappointed line and gets to his feet, moves toward the foyer, taking those pieces of you.
I’m glad he’s leaving, and part of me wishes he would stay. The night ahead seems dark and long. And there’s a light that comes from Bailey—something strong, upright, good. He’s not like you; everyone has layers but I don’t think he’s hiding anything, nothing rotten anyway. We lock eyes again, and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some electricity there. I look away first.
“You know,” he says into the quiet. “For your sake I hope you’re right. Maybe your Adam Harper made me somehow, knew I was on his trail, and he’s far from here, not looking back.”
But I wonder if Bailey’s right. You wanted something from me that you didn’t get. Didn’t you know that all you had to do was ask? I’m one of those desperate lonely hearts that I’m so good advising. I’d have given you anything. Followed you anywhere. What were you going to ask me? To come away with you? Is that what you asked them?
“But for my sake, for Mia, for Bonnie, for Melissa, I hope there’s another thread I can pull. Maybe these young women walked away from their lives. Or maybe they were taken, hurt. Maybe they can still be helped. That’s what I’m hoping, Miss Greenwood.”
Is it me? Or does he lean on the name?
“I hope so, too,” I say. “I hope you find Mia and all of them, that they’re well and safe. That Adam is not the reason they’re all gone.”
Outside another siren, this one distant, the bleat of someone’s horn and an angry shout.
“When you’re ready to open up about whatever you’re hiding, please give me a call. I can help. You can trust me—Miss Greenwood.”
You can trust me. Can I? Can I trust anyone?
I look down at the card and put my hand on it, give him a weak nod, stay quiet.
I think he wants to help you, says Robin. He wants to keep you safe. Sometimes she’s angry. I can hardly blame her. I failed us both.
The footfalls of his boots echo on the hardwood floor, then he exits the town house, closing the door softly behind him. When I head to window to watch him walk up the street, he’s already gone.
While I’m standing at the window, my phone buzzes. There’s a text from an unknown number.
Don’t believe what he tells you about me. There are more layers to my truth than you can imagine.
The missive sends a little jolt through me, and I fumble with the phone to text back.
Who are you? I type quickly.
Where have you gone?
Who’s Mia?
Explain this to me. Make me understand.
Please.
I walk out onto the stoop, the cold wind whipping around me, causing me to shiver.
Are you nearby? I text. Are you watching me?
I think I can feel you, scan the street for shadows, dark forms in doorways, behind trees. But the block is mostly empty, just a couple of kids walking up the opposite side, burdened with big, heavy school backpacks but laughing at something.