I march into the living room. “Kate,” I cry with urgency. “Kathryn.” I look around, where’s her handbag?
Her bag is gone.
No.
I run from room to room, screaming her name as my heart races.
She’s not here.
I dial her number, it rings out. I dial it again and it’s switched off.
Anger surges through me and I kick the wall.
I dial security. “Yes sir.”
“Where’s Kate?” I growl.
“Um . . . she’s with you . . . isn’t she?”
“Explain to me . . . how the fuck she got out of here unnoticed,” I yell.
“I don’t understand, sir, we’ve been on the doors all night.”
“You’re fucking useless,” I cry. “Find her!” I hang up and begin to pace back and forth, my chest rising and falling as I grapple for control.
I go to the window and look down over the street.
“Kate,” I whisper. “Where are you?”
I sit in the back of the car and dial Kate’s number; it goes straight to voicemail.
I inhale sharply—I’ve searched for her all night. She simply disappeared into thin air.
Not a trace.
She hasn’t gone home, her phone is off.
“This is the house sir.”
I peer in. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, this is her brother’s house. We dropped her bag off here as she requested.”
I get out of the car and march up to the front door, knock hard, and it opens in a rush. A young man comes into view, early thirties.
“Hello, I’m Elliot Miles—”
“I know who you are.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s not here.”
“I need to—”
“You’ve done enough,” he snaps, goes to close the door, and I put my hand up to block it, push it open, and barge my way in. “Kate,” I yell. “I know you’re here.”
“You’re too late. She’s gone.” He sighs.
“Where?”
“She flew out first thing this morning.”
The room spins. “To where?”
“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”
“What are you talking about?” I throw my hands up. “She has to work tomorrow.”
He screws up his face. “You dumb fuck, she resigned last Wednesday, she’s taking a job overseas. If you’d have bothered to come back from your artist’s bed, you would already know this.”
The earth spins on its axis.
My nostrils flare as I battle for control.
He shakes his head, with a deep exhale. “Just, get out, man. You’ve fucked it.” He glances at his watch.
“Where is she, tell me,” I demand.
“You’re too late, she will have already checked in.”
My eyes widen, her plane hasn’t left yet. “I can still catch her then.” I turn and run for the car.
“I didn’t say that,” he calls after me. “She doesn’t want to see you,” I hear in the distance as I dive in the backseat. “Heathrow Airport, quick,” I cry.