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CHAPTER THREE

CELINE

When I finally leave the police station, the world is dark around me. I’ve spoken to every contact in my phone who would possibly know where Tate is, but no one gave us anything to go on.

To my surprise, his boss confirmed he took the week off for a last-minute vacation I had no knowledge of.

Which means every day this week he’s left to go to work, and I have no idea where he ended up.

The police are holding on to his phone for now, searching it for anything that might help us, but I think we’re all just sort of at a loss.

I vacillate between anger that he was lying to me this week, fear that something might be really wrong, and a state of overwhelm because I now have to deal with the police investigation, our car insurance, and telling the family and our boys something I don’t understand myself, all while worrying about where he might be.

The tracking app on my phone shows that he went into work this morning and left around noon, but his coworkers have said he wasn’t there. So where is he? Why did he take the week off? Who was the man driving his car? Why did he have his wallet and phone? And, maybe most peculiar, why do they share the same tattoo design, both on their right shoulders?

I’m no closer to having any answers when I arrive at my parents’ house. The front door swings open at once, and both sets of parents flood out. My father is solemn, but everyone else has tears in their swollen, red eyes.

I step out of the car, trying desperately to hold it together, though I know it’s no use.

“Where is he?” his mom demands, pulling me into a tight hug. “What did you find out? We went to the police station, but they wouldn’t tell us anything.”

When she leans back to look at me, I shake my head. “I…I don’t know if there’s anything to tell. No one knows where he is. I’ve called everyone I can think of to call. We can’t find him.” I glance toward the house. “Where are the boys?”

“Watching television,” my mom says. “Your dad gave them some ice cream. They don’t know what’s going on. We haven’t told them. Well, we didn’t know what to tell them anyway. Lane and Daphne filled us in some, but…” She pauses, the skin around her eyes wrinkling with worry. “What’s happening? What do you mean you can’t find him?”

“The police called me today at work because they said Tate was involved in a car crash. They said…they told me he’d died in a crash…but when I got there, the photos they showed me weren’t him.”

“Photos?” Daphne asks, drying her eyes as more continue to fall. “What do you mean? They didn’t let you see him?”

“Apparently that’s how it works. It’s supposed to…I don’t know, make it easier on the family or something. Not having to…” I pause, collecting myself before I fall apart. “They just had photos,” I say finally. “But…it was someone else. Someone else had been driving his car. Whoever it was, he had his cell phone and wallet, too.”

“He was robbed,” Lane says, his voice a low whisper. “Is that what they’re thinking? They wouldn’t tell us a thing. Took our numbers and said they’d be in touch.” He scoffs. “How can they do that?”

I sigh, feeling the agony of the lack of answers in my bones. “I don’t know. I brought that up too, suggested that maybe he’d been robbed, but there are…other things that make that less likely.”

Every set of worried eyes lands on me.

“Other things?” Dad asks. “Like what?”

“Tate took the week off of work.” I pick at the skin around my thumbnail. “He’s been telling me he’s going into the office all week, but he told his boss he was on vacation.”

“Why would he do that?” Daphne asks, shaking her head with concern. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I checked his phone and went back as far as it would let me on the location app, and it looks like he was there every day.”

“Sounds like a coverup,” Lane says, staring into space. “The police need to speak to his boss. He has to be lying.”

“They did speak to him. The company has given them security footage to comb through, but his coworkers are good people. I don’t believe any of them would lie about this. I don’t see any reason they’d have to do this.”

“What about the man who was driving Tate’s car? Was he a coworker?”

I press my lips together. “I don’t think so. I knew all of the other agents at the firm. It could’ve been an assistant, but…the other weird thing is that they had matching tattoos.”

Daphne’s head tilts to the side. “What do you mean?”

I tap my shoulder, running a finger across the skin. “The lion on his shoulder. He…the man who died, he had a similar one.”

“Well, that can’t be a coincidence, can it? They must’ve known each other. What else could that mean?” Dad asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “The police are supposed to look into his clients and search his phone for any leads, but?—”

“Mom!” Ryker rushes toward me, leaping off the porch. “Did you bring us anything?”

“What?” I gather him in my arms, hugging him against my chest. It always takes me by surprise that he’s nearly as tall as I am at just ten years old.

“Grandma said you were shopping,” he says, pulling back just in time for Finley to launch himself against me next. At seven, he’s just a few inches shorter than his brother.

“Why don’t we go inside, kids?” Mom says, holding out her arms. “All of us. I think we should give your mom a chance to get off her feet.”

Really, she’s giving me time to prepare what I’ll say to them next, but no amount of time could ever be enough. Daphne takes my hand, and Lane takes hers, and we follow my parents and the boys up the walk and back into the house.

* * *

No one prepares you for this. There is no ‘How to Tell Your Young Sons Their Father is Missing and Possibly Dead’ manual out there on shelves, ready to walk you through the moment, step by step. Bit of a niche market, I suppose, but I’d buy up every copy in existence if it meant I had help doing this.

They know something is wrong. Everyone is crying and holding hands as we stare down at them, trying to work out our next steps. I have to tell them something, even if it’s not the entire truth just yet.

Especially when I don’t know what that truth might be.

Finley sits on my lap while Ryker is next to me, tucked up under my arm. It’s been a long time since he let me hold him like this—at ten, he’s getting too old for snuggles with Mommy, though it breaks my heart. Still, something in this moment seems to tell him it’s needed.

I kiss both of their heads, offering the most reassuring smile I can muster. They know nothing of death yet—all of their grandparents are alive and sitting here. The family dog, a brown-and-black cocker spaniel, is beginning to gray, but with any luck, he’s still years away from the end of his life. I need Tate to be okay. They can’t lose their dad first. I have to believe that he’s alive out there somewhere, that he’s okay, and that he’s coming back to us. I have to believe we’re going to find him because I’m not sure I could ever stop looking.

“So…” I puff out a breath of air. “I have some kind of confusing news, babies, but what I want to make sure you know first is that, no matter what, we’re going to make it through this. We’re going to be together, and we’re going to be alright. And”—I look up, blinking away fresh tears to keep them from falling—“and you are so, so loved, okay? We all love you boys so very much.”

They’re just staring at me. Not saying or doing anything other than blinking and growing more confused by the moment. My mom’s hand finds my back, and she rubs it just as she did when I was a child—an act that gives me more comfort than I’ve felt all day.

“So…there’s a chance Daddy isn’t, um, Daddy might not be coming home tonight, okay?” I pinch my lips together, my eyes stinging as I fight against the tears.

“What do you mean?” Ryker asks.

“Well, he’s…he might be going away for a few days, or maybe longer.” I sigh, scratching my forehead. “The truth is we don’t know when he’s coming back.”

“Well, where is he?” Ryker is insistent, clearly annoyed at the lack of answers. I just don’t want to break it to them yet. I have to hold on to hope, and if there’s even a sliver of a chance that Tate will come home, I don’t see a point in scaring them.

“We don’t know. We don’t think that anything bad happened, but he’s just…away for a while.” Tate’s mom begins to cry silently, leaning against Lane’s chest. “I’m sure that he’s fine, sweetheart, but right now we all have to be very brave while we try to figure out where he might’ve gone and wait for him to come home, okay?” I take another breath as the words choke me, blowing it out slowly. In front of me, Finley’s little chin has begun to quiver. “Can you do that for Mommy? Can you be brave?”

“Can’t you just call him?” Ryker asks, his little brows drawn down, searching for a solution that doesn’t exist.

“Well, no.” I run a hand over his cheek, wishing more than anything it was that simple. “I’ve?—”

“Why not?” he demands.

“We’ve tried that, sweetheart. I’ve tried. He’s not answering his phone.”

“What does that mean?” Finley asks. “He always has his phone. He takes it to the bathroom with him.” His lips upturn with a hopeful smile that shatters me.

“I don’t really know.” I snuggle him closer to me. “I wish that I did, but I don’t. All I can tell you is that we’re going to do everything we can to find him, okay? Mommy is going to do everything she can. And I’ll tell you everything I can, but right now, we really don’t know what any of it means. We don’t know why he isn’t here, but I know he wants to be. I know he’d never leave you, and I know he’ll be home soon.” Wishful thinking, perhaps, but I need to believe it as much as I need them to.

“Did Dad run away?” Ryker asks.

“Is he playing a game?” Finley adds, a hint of hope in his voice.

“I wish I knew, boys. We all do,” I say, my voice sounding so small and frail it’s practically a whisper. “But we aren’t giving up on him, okay? We’re all going to work so hard to find him, starting tonight. I’m going to take you home, and Grandma and Grandpa are going to stay with you while Mommy goes to look for him, okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want to come home?” Ryker asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but think twice, changing direction. “Why would you ask that?”

He fiddles with a piece of loose string on his shirt.

“Did Daddy say something to you that made you think he might leave?” I run a hand over his back cautiously.

He shakes his head. “What if he’s mad at us?”

The question shatters me, and I can’t answer. I can’t say anything.

My mom takes over, pulling Ryker against her. “Honey, your daddy loves you more than anything. I’ll bet you, wherever he is, he’s trying his hardest to get back to you.”

She looks at me over his head, our eyes locked, and promises me the same silently, though we both know it might be a lie.