Page 10

CHAPTER TEN

CELINE

Bradley Jennings is dead. More notable than that, Bradley Jennings died just six days before Tate disappeared. The thoughts repeat in my head like a broken record determined to drive me mad.

I read through his obituary, but I don’t find anything particularly of note. I can’t find any news articles about his cause of death either.

Pivoting from one theory to another, I pick up my phone and find my mother-in-law’s number in my contacts. She answers quickly, sounding stressed. “Hello? Celine?”

“Daph, I have a question.”

“We were just on our way to see you before we head to the police station. Have you heard anything from them? We’ve been calling all morning, but we’re not getting any sort of answers. We just heard back that they want to talk to us about someone Tate went to school with. Do you know what that might be about?”

“Actually, yeah. That’s why I’m calling you.” It doesn’t surprise me in the least to know my in-laws have taken matters into their own hands and are now contacting the police themselves in hopes of getting answers. “They identified the man who was driving Tate’s car yesterday. The one who had the wreck.”

“They did?” She gasps, and suddenly her voice is farther away, as if she’s put me on speakerphone. “Who was it? What did they say? Was he a criminal?”

“He was…actually, he was the person I’m assuming they’re going to ask you about, the guy Tate went to school with. I was hoping you might know more about him than I do. I couldn’t tell them anything.”

“Well, what’s his name?” Lane asks.

“Dakota Miller. Tate never mentioned him to me, but apparently they went to Highland together. Do you happen to remember him?”

There’s an eerie silence on the other line, and then I hear my mother-in-law inhale. “Dakota Miller? You’re sure that’s who they said?”

“Yes.” They must know him.

“They were friends,” Lane says finally with a shaky breath. “Best friends. Brothers, practically, and they took a lot of the same classes. We haven’t heard that name in years.”

“He was the boy who died yesterday?” Daph says, sounding as if she’s on the verge of tears. “You’re absolutely positive? It doesn’t make any sense. That can’t be true.”

“We’re pulling into your subdivision now,” Lane says. “Let us get into the house, and we can talk about it more.”

“Yeah, okay.” I end the call and go and wait by the door as they pull into the driveway. They get out of their car slowly, deep in discussion with haunted looks in their eyes. When they reach the doorway, Daph pulls me into a tight hug, sobs tearing through her.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispers. “I just can’t believe it.”

I hug her back just as tightly, though my own tears seem to have dried up at the source. I can’t bring myself to cry or even, truthfully, to feel sad for this man, when I have to be suspicious of him instead. Why did he have our car? Why did he wreck it? Where is my husband?

“Okay, so”—she smooths her hands over my hair, her bright blue, tear-filled eyes darting back and forth between mine—“what exactly did they tell you about Dakota? Are they certain it’s him?”

“I guess so. They asked if I knew him, and I said no. And they said they’d confirmed that they went to school together, and Dakota was the one driving the car. I went through Tate’s email, and there were just a few messages between them, or from Dakota to Tate, more like.”

“Messages? Tate hasn’t mentioned that they’ve been in touch.” Daph shakes her head, twisting her lips in thought.

“I think it was all just boring stuff—invitations to alumni events, mostly. And one address that he sent a few days ago, but it was to an insurance office out in Dublin, so I think it might’ve been work-related. The police were already at Tate’s office yesterday evening, so if that’s the case, maybe that’s how they connected the dots and figured out who Dakota was.” I pause, thinking. “Do you know what happened to cause them to stop talking?”

“Oh, I don’t think anything happened. They just grew apart after college, went their separate ways. You know how it goes. You promise to keep in touch, and then life gets in the way.” Daphne looks down, dabbing her eyes with her fingers. “Those boys were inseparable in college. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” She sniffles as Lane tucks an arm around her. “They were more than friends. They were brothers. They were, I mean, they practically lived at our house. They were such good boys.”

“What about Bradley Jennings or Aaron Bond?” I ask, probably pushing my luck.

Her eyes widen slightly. “Are they involved in this, too?”

“Do you know them?”

She nods, but slowly, hesitantly. “They were all boys in school together. But Tate hasn’t spoken to or about them in years, as far as I know.” She looks to Lane, who nods in agreement.

“They were almost always included on the email threads between Dakota and Tate, but no one had responded as far as I could see. When I looked them up, I learned that Bradley, um, he also passed away recently. I’m so sorry, Daphne.”

Tears fill her eyes and overflow down her cheeks as she stares at me, her chin trembling. “Both of them? Bradley and Dakota are gone? You’re sure? And now Tate’s missing? It doesn’t make sense.” She wraps her arms around herself, leaning into Lane, who holds her against his side, looking away from me.

The weight of their grief is palpable, swelling to fill the room.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find a lot of information, but it seems like a strange coincidence. The other man on the email list was named Aaron Bond?—”

She winces, bracing herself. “Oh, tell me Aaron isn’t?—”

“He’s still alive,” I assure her, easing her panic only slightly. “But he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“You reached out to him?” Lane asks, meeting my eyes for the first time since I delivered the news. His arm is still rubbing up and down over Daphne’s back.

“I called his office phone. I thought he might be able to help, if he knew Tate, but he hung up on me.”

“Well, that isn’t like him,” Daphne says, staring off into space. “Maybe we could reach out to him since he knows us.” She looks at Lane, who frowns.

“Knew us practically a decade ago. Besides, I don’t see what good it’ll do,” Lane says, twisting his lips in thought, arms crossed.

“It’ll be the whole group…gone,” Daphne says, her tone somber. “If anything happens to Aaron. If someone is targeting the boys for some reason.”

“Targeting them? Why would you say that?” Lane stares at her as if she’s lost her mind, but I’m not sure she’s wrong.

She presses her lips together. “What else could it mean? The whole group gone so close together?”

“You keep saying that. What do you mean, the whole group?” I ask.

She pauses, staring at me as if she’s trying to decide what to say. “All of Tate’s friends from college. Dakota, Bradley, now Tate. That doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

“That was all of his friends?”

She nods.

“Now don’t be getting any kind of conspiracy theory in your head, Daph,” Lane says, his voice skeptical. My father-in-law deals in the world of numbers and facts, so it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he’s dismissing what Daphne is saying, but she’s thinking along the same lines I have been. It can’t be just a coincidence, even more so with what I’ve just learned. “These boys haven’t been in contact in years. What reason would anyone have to target them? You said it yourself…they were good boys.”

“Would you mind calling him?” I ask. “I think you’re right. If he knew you, he might be more willing to talk to you than he was me.”

Daphne’s eyes widen as she looks at Lane, then back at me. “I don’t see how it could hurt, but I don’t have his number anymore. Do you want me to try the office phone you called earlier?”

I nod, retrieving my phone from my pocket and rattling the number off to her. Pressing send, she places the phone to her ear and waits.

After a few moments, her face lights up. “Yes, hello. I’m hoping to speak with Aaron Bond, please.”

She pauses.

“You can tell him it’s Daphne Thompson.”

My throat goes dry, and I suddenly wish she hadn’t given him her real name. There’s another long pause and then her face falls. “Oh. No, of course. Yes, just have him call me back. Please tell him it’s urgent.” She gives her number to the receptionist before ending the call, looking as defeated as I feel. “She said he was on a call.”

I don’t need to say it. Somehow, I know we all feel it. Aaron Bond isn’t going to take our calls. He’s ignoring us, and I need to know why.

Daphne looks up at Lane, her chin quivering. His eyes dance between hers, their broken expressions cracking the last of my resolve. Before anyone can say anything, she begins to weep.

“I just want him home,” she sobs. “I just want my son home.”

He pulls her into his chest as tears tickle the back of my throat, and I step away. Lane was probably right with what he said earlier. Going down rabbit holes isn’t helping anyone right now. We have to deal with what we know for certain. And what I know for certain is that Aaron is potentially one of the only members of the friend group left, and he’s also the one avoiding us right now.

I need to fix that. Chase this rabbit. But I need to do it alone.

“Hey, guys, I’m really sorry to do this, but I have somewhere to be.” I pat my mother-in-law’s arm. “I was just on my way out when you caught me, but feel free to stay here. Mom will be by with the boys after school, and I should be back within a few hours.”

“Do you want us to go with you?” Lane asks.

“I’m okay. I just have an errand to run.”

“We were on our way to the police station anyway,” Daphne reminds us both, drying her eyes. “And once we’re there, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. They should be doing more than what they are. A search party. Something. If your errand can wait, you can come with us.”

I wince. “I can’t.” This feels too important, but I can’t say that. “But tell me what they say, okay? Please?”

I can tell I’ve upset Daphne by the way her mouth tenses. She’s ordinarily such an easygoing, kind mother-in-law, but I know I’m failing her right now. Still, I have my own investigation to do, and they have theirs. This path feels right to me.

Together, we make our way back out the door, and I lock it behind us before giving them both a hug and settling into my car. I have an email from our car insurance agent, so I start to call him back, but I stop when I spot an incoming call from another blocked number.

This time, I nearly don’t answer, but how can I not when it could be Tate?

“Hello?” I watch my in-laws backing out of the driveway before I put my car in reverse.

Like last time, I’m met with only silence, but unlike last time, I’m more angry than hopeful.

“Who is this?” I demand.

Nothing. No response. No breathing. For all I know, this is a robocall.

“Tate, is that you?”

Nothing. Rage bubbles in my belly.

“Or maybe it’s you, Aaron?”

Something shifts in the air as I wonder if I’m right. Before I have time to ponder too long, I hear a breath. A single puff of air, like a sigh released, and then the call ends.