Gone (Gone #1) (26 page)

What had she been thinking? Why had she drunk so much?

Soon, the brakes hissed. She opened her eyes and saw her house. Had she fallen asleep? Is that how they had gotten back so fast?

He pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Let me help you get out. It's a big drop, and I don't want you getting hurt."

"You think I'm an idiot, don't you?" Oh, why had she said that?

"Not at all. I just don't want you injuring yourself. Just wait in here while I take care of your car."

She sighed and then waited. With any luck, no neighbors were awake to watch. There were several who loved to gossip, and they would eat this up—her arriving early in the morning in a tow truck. She looked at the windows she could see, but everything looked as it should: no nosy neighbors peeking from behind any curtains.

Her door opened, and Rusty put his hand out for her to take. With his help, she managed to get out onto the street without any more blood.

"Do you want me to leave your car here, by the sidewalk? I can put it up your driveway if you'd like."

Chad would know something wasn't right if her car was parked on the road. He wouldn't think anything of it being in the driveway, because half the time she didn't bother putting it in the garage anyway. She sighed and then handed him her keys.

When he was done parking the car, he returned the keys to her. He gave her a nod, his eyes full of kindness. "I hope you find your daughter soon. In the meantime, please don't turn to drinking."

She rubbed her head. "Not if it keeps feeling like this."

"Glad to hear it. Have a good night."

"Wait. Let me pay you something."

"No. Like I told you, it's a write-off. You're helping me out with tax time coming up."

"But you covered my food too."

"It's all a write-off. Just get in there and get some sleep. You're going to need it."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Goodnight."

Alyssa walked to her front door. When she got there, she turned around and saw that Rusty was sitting in his truck, watching her. Was he making sure she could get into her house? She must have been in pretty bad shape if he doubted her ability to do that. She pulled out her key and unlocked the door.

She turned around and waved, letting him know he was free to go. Then she opened the door and went in, resetting the alarm. She was half-surprised that she remembered the new codes, but at least she did.

The house was quiet and it was still dark. No one had any reason to get up early, so she was probably safe from having to explain herself.

When she got into her room, she let a sigh of relief seeing Chad in the same position he had been in when she left. She got in the shower to wash off the smells from the night.

She climbed into bed, her hair still wet, and she relaxed. Her stomach was still queasy, but the alcohol had done the job of calming her nerves. Things didn't look as bad as they had before. She could see that there was no evidence of foul play, so she had reason to cling to hope that she would see Macy again.

Alyssa closed her eyes and for the first time in a while, drifted off to sleep without any anxious thoughts haunting her.

Clue

The sun was shining into the room through the blinds. One ray of light made its way to Chad's eyes, waking him up. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. It was pretty bright, which meant that it had to be late morning. He looked over at Alyssa, sleeping soundly next to him.

How odd that she was still sleeping. She had never been one to sleep in to begin with, always off to work out or something. Now that Macy was missing, she usually got up even earlier. He knew she hadn't been sleeping well. She tended to talk in her sleep—she had as long as he had known her—but it had been much worse over the last week.

She had woken him up several times yelling out, though she hadn't managed to wake herself.

He got up, put on some track pants and an old college sweatshirt, and went into the hall. Both Alex's door and the door to Macy's room, where Zoey slept, were still closed. Not that that was a surprise. He remembered sleeping well past noon often as a teenager.

His stomach rumbled, so he went to the kitchen. He looked at the clock on the stove. It was almost eleven, which meant he may as well make lunch. He remembered the leftover lasagna. He would never be able to eat lasagna without guilt again. There was no way he was ever going to tell Alyssa about Lydia, but since he was never going to go back to her again, it didn't matter. The past was in the past.

Chad grabbed the tinfoil-covered dish from the fridge and piled a huge piece onto a plate. He stuck it in the microwave and waited. He looked through the fridge for something to drink. He was too awake for coffee, which was his usual morning fuel. Milk? No, it gave him gas. He didn't want to spend the whole day farting. Juice? Too sweet. Beer? Bingo.

He grabbed a bottle and opened it up just as the microwave beeped. He sat down with his lasagna and beer. The breakfast of champions. It was perfect, actually. Once he got to the middle of his food, it was cold, so he had to put it back in for another couple of minutes. He finished the beer while he waited.

Once the food was done, it was too hot. Stupid microwaves. He put the plate on a potholder and carried it to his office. He'd let it cool down while he checked the comments on his blog.

His latest post had over two hundred new comments. Not surprising since he hadn't checked in a while. Had he even checked the day before?

He read through the comments, answering each one. They were all typical as of late. Mostly condolences for what their family was going through. Those were easy enough to reply to. A simple thank you sufficed in most cases. Occasionally, someone had something special to say, and he needed to give it extra attention.

He went through the rest of the comments on the post and then checked for other new comments on other posts. There were about eighty other comments to answer. After he was done with that, he needed to write a new post. People would stop checking if he didn't update soon.

Once he had replied to the last comment, he checked all the local news blogs. They all mentioned the bloody clothes. Each one of them made it sound like there was a lot more blood than there actually was. He checked a couple of the national news sites, and they both said the same thing.

Oddly enough, none of his blog comments had mentioned it, so the news must have just been released.

He opened up a new post and let his fingers do the talking. He let the public know everything that he did. Yes, they found Macy's clothes covered in blood, but it wasn't nearly enough to be deadly. He suspected a cut, and would believe that until other evidence proved otherwise.

Before hitting publish, he went through pictures on his computer. Family pictures brought in a lot more visitors, and he wanted everyone to know the truth. He uploaded a dozen pictures, all including Macy, from the last ten years or so. People couldn't get enough of that.

Chad hit publish and then checked the live post. Even though he always previewed it first, he sometimes managed to catch errors that he'd missed. This one looked good.

Not only did he have high numbers, but he had a program showing how many times his content was shared, and his posts were getting shared thousands of times each week. That wasn't even counting all the re-blogs, which he didn't have time to track.

He refreshed the page and saw there were already comments. People had to have been sitting on his site, waiting for the latest bit of news. It was a good thing he had already upgraded his hosting to handle all the traffic.

Leaning back in his chair, he stretched. He would read the comments later. He needed to get his mind off everything. The worry and guilt ate away at his stomach. As much as he wanted to spend every waking minute focused on finding Macy, he needed breaks from it all.

It made him feel like a first-class jerk, but he knew that he was no good to anyone if he didn't take breaks. He went upstairs and found that he was still the only one awake. He ran a brush and some gel through his hair and headed outside for a walk.

He walked mindlessly through the neighborhood, purposefully avoiding the park. The last thing he wanted was to run into anyone, and as much as he appreciated everyone's efforts with the search parties, he couldn't do it right then. Maybe he could find a clue wandering through the neighborhood.

Eventually Chad's calves felt sore. He was going up an incline, and looked around to see where he was. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't been paying any attention. The way the roads were set up, he was actually heading back home. It would take him longer to get there if he turned around.

"Is that you, Chad?"

Turning around, he prepared himself. He knew that voice anywhere. "Lydia."

She had dirt on her knees and held clippers. "What are you doing over here?"

"Just trying to clear my head."

"I like to get outside for that myself. Even though we have a landscaper, I like to come out and work on the rose bushes."

"They look great. I should get home, though. I'm sure my family will be waking up soon."

"You look thirsty. Want to come in for a drink?"

"I really shouldn't."

"Well, let me bring something out for you. You need to take care of yourself."

"Lydia, I—"

"Just let me grab something. I know what you like."

"Okay." He sighed.

She came back with two of his favorite diet sodas and handed him one.

"Thanks." Chad didn't realize how thirsty he was until he started drinking. He had finished the entire thing in a couple gulps.

Lydia smiled at him. "See? I knew you were thirsty."

He nodded. "I appreciate it. Really, though, I should get going."

She took his empty bottle and held his eye contact. "If you need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask. I'll do anything for you."

"You've done plenty. We all enjoyed the lasagna, even though we were upset about the news."

She nodded, and then stepped closer. "Are your needs being met? I've always been able to—"

"I told you, I'm working things out with Alyssa."

"Of course. But after speaking with her, it's obvious that she's consumed with grief. It would help you to talk with someone neutral. Our heart-to-heart discussions are second to none." She stepped even closer.

Chad swallowed, still looking her in the eyes. He couldn't deny what she said, but that was the problem. If he opened himself to her he would put his relationship with Alyssa on the line. He would destroy his family.

"Chad?" Lydia put her hand on his.

Some of her hair fell into her face. Without thinking, Chad reached out to brush it behind her ear.

"What do you say?" Her voice was soft, and he could feel her breath on his face. She smelled sweet, even though she had been out doing yard work. "Come inside and tell me everything."

His breath caught, and for a moment he considered taking her up on the offer. Alyssa and the kids didn't deserve this. He needed to give Alex a good home life now more than ever. And Macy…he didn't want her coming back to a broken family, which is what would eventually happen if he didn't stay away from Lydia. He couldn't have both, and he knew it.

"Well?"

Chad stepped back. "Lydia, you're a sweet person. It kills me that Dean can't see that, but I need to be there for my family—all of them. Thanks again for the drink."

Disappointment washed over her face.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

She nodded, and then waved. "You know where to find me."

Surprise

Alyssa woke up, unsure if the pounding came from her head or outside somewhere. The light was blinding and it hurt—a lot. She needed some powerful painkillers. With any luck, her stomach would be able to handle them. After throwing up the previous night, she was certain there was nothing left in her stomach to worry about vomiting.

Maybe she should eat something first. Aspirin on an empty stomach would cause more problems than she already had. She grabbed a bottle from the bathroom and headed down to the kitchen. She grabbed some frozen pancakes and put them in the microwave.

The house was quiet. Chad was probably working on his blog and the kids were probably still sleeping. Not that she could blame them, especially after getting up so late herself.

She had acted like an idiot the night before, running off and getting drunk. She hadn't done that since college, and even then it had been with friends. At this age, she was just pathetic. She needed to pull herself together. She'd already lost Macy—hopefully only for a time—and she needed to be there for Alex. He needed her more than ever, even though he acted tough.

The microwave beeped, indicating the food was ready. She took the steaming plate out and set it on the counter while she started a pot of coffee. That would help her headache. She usually tried not to drink too much of it, but she also didn't usually drink fish bowls full of alcohol, either. How many had she had?