Page 18 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)
THE PALE LIGHT OF DAWN seeped through the cheap hotel blinds. How was this her life? She’d spent years running , hiding , building a cover story for herself , never imagining she’d end up back here. Not with Corbin. Not like this. But now, here they were. Partners.
Between the burn on her ankle pulsing with an insistent pain and her thoughts cycling through the image of Stryker being kidnapped, she hadn’t slept well.
The drab hotel room, the uncomfortable bed, the paper-thin walls amplifying every cough and footstep in the hallway, hadn’t helped either.
All night she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should be doing more.
That time was running out. Each passing hour, a grain of sand slipping through the hourglass of Stryker’s life.
Fresh from her shower, Luna perched on the edge of the tub and carefully peeled back the dressing on her ankle. The angry red flesh underneath dragged her back to the fire. Corbin’s hands on her skin. Smothering the flames. He’d saved her.
A sting shot up her leg as she dabbed antibiotic ointment on the burn, and she hissed through her teeth. She rewrapped the injury with clean gauze and stood, testing her weight. Still painful, but manageable.
Brushing her teeth, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
No longer a CIA operative, but still a phony.
How could she tell Corbin that forgiveness wasn’t about deserving but about grace all while she clutched her own resentment like a security blanket?
The irony. Here she stood, advising him to do exactly what she refused to do herself.
And what about her friends? She’d disappeared without a trace, without explanation. If she expected Harlee and the others to forgive her abandonment, shouldn’t she be willing to extend that same grace to Corbin?
Physician , heal thyself.
The logic was simple, the execution impossibly difficult. Maybe it was time to start trying to do things God’s way instead of her own.
Her stomach growled. Caffeine. She needed caffeine, but one glance at the crusty hotel coffee maker with its suspicious stains sent her reaching for her keys instead.
She arrived at Corbin’s office, greeted by the blessed scent of coffee, and poured herself a cup before settling at Corbin’s desk.
Last night she’d left him asleep at the conference table, head resting on folded arms. If she were honest, the raw vulnerability in his eyes had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
“Morning,” Corbin said. He looked tired, his shoulders stiff beneath his suit jacket, a dark bruise blooming on his cheekbone. The remnants of the fire etched onto his skin.
“Coffee’s ready,” she said.
“Thanks.” He poured himself a cup, wincing slightly as he reached for the sugar.
She studied him, stirring his coffee. He was the same, but different now.
Older, obviously. The lines around his eyes, the slight gray at his temples, they suited him.
He had a confidence now, an assurance in his movements that hadn’t been there before.
Even more good-looking than he’d been back then. If that was even possible.
She’d always seen the good in him, even then, when he was lost, angry, fighting his own demons. Yesterday, she’d seen it again. After all she’d put him through, he still cared.
Maybe she should have forgiven him a long time ago.
And what about Trinity?
The girl Stryker wouldn’t give up on. The one Liv had said looked so much like her. Who ran from her problems just like Luna had.
Was it possible? Could Trinity be their daughter?
Mercy, the implications made her head spin.
Should she tell Corbin? No, she couldn’t. Not until she had more evidence. Not with everything else he was dealing with.
He turned. Caught her staring. “About last night...”
“Let’s focus. We need to find Carlie. For her sake. For her family’s sake. Then, Stryker.” She busied herself organizing the files, avoiding his eyes.
“Right. Of course.” He shuffled a few file folders and pulled one from the stack. “Did you have a chance to skim this?”
He handed her the file with a photo of Carlie, the pretty blond teenager still wearing braces, attached to the front. Traces of the commissioner were in her eyes, the shape of her face. “She’s a beautiful young woman.”
“And smart too. Top of her class. But she’s been in trouble the last year or two.” Corbin rattled off a list that sounded an awful lot like her own teenage transgressions.
Luna opened the file and skimmed Corbin’s notes from his interview of Lara Tinch.
“Her home life’s a bit of a mess,” he continued.
“Her mother, Lara, struggles with serious mental health issues. She doesn’t leave her room.
Heavily medicated. Disconnected.” He hesitated, then added, “That’s all off the record, by the way.
The commissioner wants to keep this whole thing under wraps.
Top secret. Can’t have a word getting out to his own department, let alone the media. ”
Luna nodded. The commissioner trusted them. Or maybe he just had no other choice.
“Carlie’s under a lot of pressure from her father,” Corbin continued.
“The commissioner pushes her hard about school, expects perfect grades, extracurricular activities, the whole nine yards.” He shook his head.
“But he works long hours, travels a lot. She feels neglected. Abandoned. It’s no wonder she’s acting out. ”
Kids like that were easy to find. Easy to manipulate. They craved acceptance, belonging. They were desperate for someone to see them, to hear them, even if it meant breaking the rules. She’d been one of those kids once. And it had landed her in a world of trouble. “Classic cry for attention.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I suspect she’s been dipping into her mother’s medication cabinet, self-medicating. The pills. The escape. It’s a dangerous combination.”
“It is.” Luna’s own mother had sought solace in those colorful capsules that promised oblivion.
The little bottles. The rattle of pills.
That sweet, chemical smell clinging to her mother’s clothes.
“And I know something about that escape. I lived it. For years, I took care of my mother. I had to be the parent because she couldn’t.
Growing up like that, it changes you. Not always for the better. ”
“I know what it was like for you. With your mom. I remember.” His hand reached out, hesitated, then settled on the table between them. Close, but not touching.
That tenderness. It had been so long. His hand, so close, so tempting.
No, Corbin’s simple gesture shouldn’t distract her. Carlie’s case. That was where her attention needed to be. Not on Corbin. Not on the past.
She took a long drink of her coffee, then set the mug down. “What about friends? Who’s Carlie hanging out with?”
Corbin shuffled a few papers and offered another photo. It looked like a selfie taken by a freckle-faced girl with Carlie braid ing the girl’s dark hair. Both had their heads tilted and beamed smiles at the camera.
“Carlie’s best friend is a girl named Ashley. They’d started hanging out with Ashley’s twin brother, Andre, and his friends. They’re always loitering around that old liquor store on Palm Street.”
“According to your notes, Ashley was the last person to see Carlie before she disappeared, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s go talk to Andre and his friends.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “We need to find out what they know.”
“Questioning minors without their parents...” He shook his head. “It’s a gray area, Luna. We need to be careful.”
“Careful?” She gave him a look. “We’re talking about a missing girl. A girl whose father is breathing down your neck. A girl who might be in serious danger. When was the last time ‘careful’ got you anywhere?”
Conflict blazed in his eyes. The cop versus the friend. The need to follow the rules versus the urgency of the situation.
“We don’t even know if these kids are involved,” he said. “We could waste valuable time searching for them .”
“Or we could be losing valuable leads,” she countered. She knew how to push his buttons. How to get under his skin. How to make him forget about the rules and listen to his gut. “Every minute that passes, Carlie drifts farther away.”
She watched as he wrestled with the decision, his jaw tightening, his gaze flickering between her and the photo of Carlie on his desk.
“Let’s go.” She glanced at the whiskey glass still on his desk. Still filled with amber liquid. “Unless you’d rather stay here, staring at your drink.”
He got to his feet and grabbed his blazer. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”
Probably because she was feeling the same way.