Page 75

"Donovan." He drew in a slow, even breath, with his dark gaze locked on mine. "Stop."

I let go of him, suddenly aware of the heaving breaths that left me in rageful puffs. I grabbed handfuls of my hair, drawing my eyes away from him to look around the room. Roderick now stood beside Wilkinson, his gentle expression leeched with worry was the only thing that calmed me down.

"Perkins did this?" I asked, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"We believe he played a part—" Wilkinson began, but Roderick cut him off.

"He set it up to look like Brody did it. Like she was the puppet master in all of this," his words rushed from his lips as he glanced between us. "You should've told her," he said, looking right at Wilkinson.

"Get off me." I shoved Wilkinson's hand off me when my awareness returned to me, then focused on Roderick. "Tell me everything. Don't you fucking dare listen to a word he says." I jabbed my finger in Wilkinson's face while I stared down Roderick. "Everything."

Roderick moved between the two of us, his palm pressing the small of my back as he walked me out of the club through the emergency fire escape door that led to the alley. I rubbed my face in a harsh grab when the colder night air snapped at me.

"Why didn't you fucking call me, Brian?"

"We weren't sure. I didn't want to freak you out, then Wilkinson said—"

"I don't care what he said. You're supposed to be my friend. And Nora's." When I said her name, I lost it, leaning against the brick building and propping my hands on my knees. "Oh God."

"James and Stiles are out looking for her with the others. They've got teams going in half a dozen different directions. They'll find her—"

"You can't know that—"

He stood in front of me, giving my shoulders a squeeze. "They'll find her."

I nodded, dropping down into a crouch, attempting to calm myself down. All I could think about, all I could see flashing in front of my eyes was the last time I saw Nora, pulling away from Perkins on the day she left for Grays Harbor a few weeks ago, and the last thing I said to her after she called me an asshole, which I was being on purpose. I pulled my hair back off my neck, holding it in a rough fist hard enough to make my eyes water.

Roderick crouched down in front of me, his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care—"

"I mean it, Caroline. I'm sorry."

"Take me to her house," I demanded, shoving away from him to stand. "Right now—"

"It's a crime scene—"

"I don't care!"

"Donovan." His hand fell to my shoulder again and he squeezed. "You can't."

"Then take me to the hospital where Anita is." I swiped at my nose and met his gaze. "Now."

"Anita—"

"Doctor Oliver. The psych."

"Okay." He held up his hand. "That I can do. It's not far. Come on."

It took less than ten minutes to get to the hospital. I texted Anita, and she met us at the door of the lockdown unit when we arrived. Roderick stayed outside, but she urged me in with her, taking me down to an empty room with only a table and two benches screwed into the floor. It wasn't much different from an interrogation room save for the colors of the paint on the walls.

A petite woman with salt-and-pepper hair clad in hospital issue sweats followed behind us, then took a seat in the hallway facing the door. Anita smiled at her, her expression gentle.

"We'll be right in here, Jenny. Okay?"

The woman nodded, a determined expression narrowing her brows right before Anita closed the door. Once I heard her name, I couldn't draw my eyes away from her until she vanished from view.

I paced the room, saying nothing while Anita looked at me for several tense seconds. She made to approach me, but I backed off and moved toward the window.