This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) (4 page)

I swallow down a thick ball of emotion and grit my teeth. Lynn had always been good to me. When Tony and Gabe would mess with me, like they often liked to do, she’d always shoo them off and mollify me with motherly smiles my own mother could never give. It was like she, too, knew Baylee and I weren’t just some passing fling, but instead true love. That we were meant to be.

I loved Lynn as if she were my own mother.

Baylee is going to be devastated.

Giving her the news via email seemed impersonal and wrong. I always knew I’d be the one to hold her through what would inevitably be the worst time of her life. I just didn’t realize that it would be so in more ways than one.

With a sigh, I set down the duffle bag and unzip it. I stuff the picture into it and on a whim decide to grab Lynn’s white sweater which she always kept on the chair near her bed. I look around the room, pondering whether or not I should take anything else. She’ll need memories. I don’t want her to be denied of any of them.

I snatch a few more things and toss them in the bag. After zipping it back up, I stride back through the house to leave. A loud, sudden bang on the front door nearly stops my heart.

My blood runs cold in my veins, nearly turning to ice, as I freeze in my tracks. I’ve been staying in this house for a while now and nobody has come over. Hoping it’s just a neighbor I can easily get rid of, I prowl over to the front door and peek through the small window. I lock eyes with the shrewd brown ones of Detective Stark.

Fuck.

Another pound startles me. “We can see you in there,” her partner’s deep voice booms through the door. “Open up. We’d like to ask a few questions.”

I grit my teeth and reluctantly pull open the door. Stark widens her eyes in surprise before she schools her expression.

“Brandon Thompson? Funny seeing you here,” she says carefully, her eyes darting behind me into the house. “Do your parents know where you’ve been?”

I shrug my shoulders and drag my gaze to her badge on her belt to avoid her scrutinizing stare. “I’m eighteen. I wasn’t missing, just needed my space. She knows I’m alive and well.”

She makes a cluck with her tongue and our eyes meet again. “I see. We actually came to pay a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Winston. May Detective Shilling and I come inside and ask a few questions?”

Glancing at Shilling, who chews on a toothpick like it’s a piece of gum beside her, and then back at Stark, I shake my head no. “Uh, didn’t you hear about Mrs. Winston? She’s dead.”

Stark’s partner slides his hand over his gun, the movement almost unnoticeable. But I see and cringe.

“Her liver finally shut down and she passed on,” I add quickly before they start getting the wrong idea.

Stark waves her hand at her partner, trying to calm him, I guess. “Yes, we knew she was very ill,” she says solemnly.

Shilling nods and relaxes. Slightly.

“Where’s Mr. Winston?” Stark questions, her eyes flitting behind me again as if she’s cataloguing everything in the house.

“He’s not here—went into San Francisco to see a friend,” I say and wave behind me. “But you’re welcome to come inside and have a look around. I can tell you want to. But if you’ll excuse me, I was on my way out.”

When I start to walk over the threshold, Stark stops me. “What’s with the bag, Mr. Thompson? Heading somewhere?”

I nod. “Talked to my mom. I was headed back home to stay with them. At least until I find a job and can get on my feet.”

Stark narrows her eyes at me. “I see. So, Mr. Thompson, you’re telling me you’ve been staying with Mr. Winston this whole time?”

My palms begin to sweat so I make a fist with them. “Yeah.”

“Check it out, Shilling. I’m going to chat with Mr. Thompson for a minute.”

Shilling shoulders past me and begins nosing around the house.

“I gotta tell you, son,” Stark says with a sigh, “I’m awfully curious how, just a few months ago, you acted like Anthony Winston was your enemy—that he was a part of some elaborate scheme to get rid of his daughter—and now you two are roomies? Can you explain that to me?”

I clench my teeth and glare at her. “My opinion of him hasn’t changed. We’d formed a sort of alliance to search for Baylee. Remember her? The missing girl you blew me off about? Plus, he’s been having a hard time since his wife died, and he is my girlfriend’s father. So, I’ve been here because obviously Baylee can’t be. Is that a crime, Detective?”

Her gaze softens and her lips press into a line. “Of course not, Brandon. Actually, that’s what we came here to talk about. Baylee and where she’s been—what she’s been up to. Have you had any contact with her?”

An ache forms in my chest. “No, I haven’t spoken to her.” It’s true. I haven’t heard her sweet voice. Her throaty giggle. The soft way she moans when I kiss her.

Stark lets out a sigh, almost seeming relieved at my words.

“The house appears to be lived in. No signs of a struggle or altercation. There’s nothing here,” Shilling says from behind me.

Stark nods and motions for me to follow her. “Mr. Thompson, we’d like you to come down to the station so we can ask you a few more questions.”

“So ask them now,” I bark out, trying not to seem so eager to get away from them.

Glancing down at my watch, I nearly cringe knowing these people are wasting my time.

“I’d rather do it up at the station. In my office. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Just a few questions.”

“Questions about what?”

She frowns. “Gabriel Sharpe for one.”

I wince at hearing that asshole’s name. “I don’t know anything about that stupid fuck.” But my menacing growl does nothing to conceal my hatred for him.

“Well, that’s not all. I promise, we won’t keep you long. Like I said, the easy way.”

Our eyes meet and I challenge her. “And if I just leave?”

A soft chuckle leaves Shilling as Stark bristles at my question. “Then we do it the hard way. I have my partner here search your bag and if we find anything missing from this home, we’ll haul you in for trespassing and larceny. You could also be charged with aiding and abetting.”

“What?” I bellow out in disbelief. “Aiding and abetting with what?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at me. “With aiding and abetting Baylee Winston in the attempted murder of Warren McPherson.”

I blink at her several times in shock. Surely this woman has lost her goddamned mind. “What the hell are you even talking about? Who the fuck is Warren McPherson? Baylee was kidnapped. Stolen. She’s not a murderer!”

Stark cocks a dark eyebrow and nods toward the squad car and my truck. “I know the story you’ve told me, and I’d like to believe you, Brandon. That’s why I want to get your statement at the station. We’ll need your help in bringing Baylee in. She’s a person of interest. Any information you might be able to provide will help us in our cause.”

Unfuckingbelievable.

“This is ridiculous.” I run my fingers through my hair again and curse.

“You can meet us there. How about that? We’ll talk, clear some things up, and then you can be on your way,” she tells me in a placating tone that reminds me of Lynn. Motherly and concerned. “I know you want her back. If she’s innocent, like you claim, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Rage bubbles inside of me.

Now that they think she tried to murder someone, they’re suddenly interested in where the fuck she went. Not for the near four months that I’ve been going crazy searching for her.

I want to strangle this woman and say,
I fucking told you so.

I want to tell them everything I know about Tony Winston and his psycho best friend, Gabe Sharpe.

I want to tell them how Baylee wouldn’t hurt a soul. She’s an innocent. A motherfucking victim.

My phone buzzes in my pocket alerting me to a notification from the GPS app that’s tracking Gabe’s movement. I’ve already wasted too much time with these dumbass detectives when I should be stalking where Gabe’s taking her.

But I know they won’t get off my ass until I talk to them. Stark’s firm stare tells me so. I need to shake these guys off me so I can get to her. For a brief moment I consider telling her that I’m going after Gabe, but then I remember how much help she was before.

I don’t have time for their bureaucratic bullshit and red tape.

I need to get to her. And soon.

“Fine,” I concede with a huff. “I can’t stay more than an hour though. I promised my mother I’d be home for dinner.” My stomach grumbles as if to punish me for teasing it with a mention of my mother’s home cooking when I know I won’t be getting that shit anytime soon.

Stark nods and flashes me a warm smile. “You’re doing the right thing, kid. Thank you.”

Four hours.

For four goddamned hours I’ve sat here answering their questions.

When was the last time you saw Baylee Winston?

Do you know the current whereabouts of Gabriel Sharpe?

How would you describe Baylee? Was she ever violent?

Were Gabriel Sharpe and Baylee Winston collaborating to con the reclusive billionaire out of his life and money?

Where is Anthony Winston and why would he hide the fact that his daughter had gone missing?

On and fucking on.

I evaded. Anything to get them off my back and hurry the hell up.

“Are we done here?” I demand for the millionth time, my patience wearing incredibly thin.

Stark, ever the calm one, raises a dark eyebrow at me. “Shilling just called your parents to let them know you’ve been located and are safe,” she says with a hint of smugness. “He also told them you’d be late for dinner. Although, they sounded a bit surprised to hear that you’d be joining them at all.”

Fuck.

“There’s also no reason for you to lie about going to your parents, unless you really don’t want anyone to know where you were actually headed. Where were you really going in such a hurry, Mr. Thompson?” she questions, suspicion evident in her voice.

“This is stupid. I was going to see a friend.” A growl rumbles in my chest. “Besides, I’m eighteen, Stark. There’s no reason for you to have called them. It’s none of their business.”

I flick my gaze to the clock above her head, wanting to slam my fist into the table. Another three hours or so and he’ll be back at the cabin. I think about the gun in my bag in the truck. How it will feel to shove the barrel into that asshole’s mouth and pull the trig—

“Detective,” a mousy woman with a greying mop of hair interrupts, peeking into the interrogation room. “Mr. Thompson is here to see his son.”

Rubbing a palm over my face, I groan at the feeling of dread spreading through my body. The last thing I want to do is be forced to face my father now, after all this time.

“He can wait until we finish up here,” Stark snaps.

“No,” the woman squeaks, “actually it can’t wait. He’s here with an attorney and is demanding to see him right away.”

Jesus fucking Christ. My father just has to go to the extreme. I could have handled this. I was almost done and on my way to find Baylee.

But now?

Now I’m going to look even guiltier. Spend even more time here. And possibly lose track of them.

Shit!

“Fine,” Stark grumbles, “send them in.”

Seconds later the door swings open and my father storms in with a scowl painted on his face. I stand abruptly and glower at him.

“I had this handled,” I grit through my teeth. “They were just asking questions about Baylee. I was about to leave. I didn’t need a lawyer or my dad to come save me.”

My father approaches and looks down his nose at me. “You look like hell, Brandon. Are you on drugs?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes.
Fucking typical.
“Leave,” I seethe at him, fisting my hands at my sides.

He laughs at me before grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt. I know he’s pissed at my disappearing but he no longer has any influence or control over me.

“Okay, Mr. Thompson, that’s enough,” Stark snaps as she stands.

“Son,” he says, shaking his head, “you clearly can’t be left to deal with matters on your own. You only ever end up doing something stupid. You went and got yourself mixed up with that girl. You’re throwing your entire life away for her. Her hot-headed asshole father doesn’t even like you. She’s not worth—”