Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby)(40)

I did the obvious thing first, the thing they tell you to do; I went to the cops. You know what they said? They said, 'It's just Claudine. She's always been a little messed up. Bet she ran off with some guy, and you're a smart girl, Flora. You can guess what she's so busy with.'

Yeah. That's right. Apparently, doing a bit of heroin means nothing bad can happen to you unless you do it to yourself! They told me she was an adult, so they wouldn't search for her like she was some runaway kid. It was a 'waste of resources.'

It didn't matter that I said her boyfriend had seen her last! They wouldn't even talk to him!

Small town politics can rot in hell.

My next step was my parents, but mom and dad didn't want to discuss Claudine. She'd run out on them pretty early, they'd never repaired their relationship. I could grasp their hurt feelings, sure, but you'd think—even with bad blood—you'd worry about your missing daughter?

My father kept ranting that he was too busy getting ready to go out again for another two weeks of working at the oil drill. Mom would just walk room to room, never meeting my eyes as she got drunker and drunker.

The message was clear: Give up on your sister.

But fuck that.

Giving up on Claudine was the last thing I'd ever do. She'd done so much for me over the years. I couldn't walk away from this.

“Dad! Hey!” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shivered. The sun was a bleeding speck on the horizon. Where was he?

Turning, I spotted his dented up truck on the edge of the property. The tingling in my scalp acted as intuition; it told me what I'd find, even before I jogged up to the driver's side window. “Dad,” I breathed out, tapping on the glass.

He was curled up inside, a beer between his knees. If he was out here, it meant my parents had been fighting. I didn't have time—or much of a desire—to ask what about. “Here,” I said, cracking the door a few inches.

Grunting at me, his red-rimmed lids fluttered. “Flora?”

“Take this.” Setting the paper bag on his lap, I smiled as much as I could. It didn't reach my eyes. “Food, pain meds, water. You'll need them.”

The way his forehead crinkled said volumes. I knew my father; he was showing as much thanks as he ever would.

Shutting the door, I stepped back. I realized that this was it. I was going to try and find Claudine, even if it meant leaving this tiny town entirely. My instinct blared that she wasn't here, not any longer. I could be gone for who knew how long—I had no clue, for sure—but I didn't have the heart to tell my parents.

Maybe I'm a coward.

I think part of me was worried that my parents wouldn't even try to stop me.

I feared their indifference, so I never said a word about my plan. Turning, I hurried off towards the road, consoling myself with one simple phrase. One that Claudine had said to me again and again.

It's for the best.

I had to believe that. I wasn't turning back, regardless. Too much time had gone by, I knew something bad had happened to Claudine. I'd told the police who they should investigate. If they wouldn't, then I'd make the effort.

On the barely lit streets, I made a fast path towards Fiddle's house. Yes, Fiddle. The kind of name you hear and go, 'Oh. Sounds like a suspicious person to me!'

Seriously. I hate the fucking cops here.

The street narrowed, guiding me down the cracked pavement towards the skinny building Claudine's boyfriend called home. As I jumped up the steps, I had a terrible second of panic. What if he isn't here anymore? Her motorcycle was gone, it was why the cops leaned heavily on the idea that she'd ridden off somewhere of her own accord. Maybe she and her boyfriend had left together.

But... without telling me? That wasn't like her.

Walking away will tell me nothing. If there was a sliver of information to be gained—even if it was that Fiddle and Claudine were both gone—I needed it.

I was hoping for answers tonight.

What if I got none?

Glancing up, I caught the flicker of light in a high window. Thank god. Some of the tension in my ribs eased away. Steeling my nerves, I banged my knuckles on the door—first softly, then louder.

Hovering on the front steps, I tucked my hands in my coat and waited. Around me, the night was giving me goosebumps. Yes, I knew this town, but that also meant I knew this area wasn't the most... friendly. Standing here made me feel like a target, though for who, I couldn't say.

The crunch of the door tipping inwards made me jump. Through the crack, I saw Fiddle's angular face. In the shadows, his eyes were more sunken in than usual. “Who the fuck are—Flora?” Blinking, he darted a nervous look over my shoulder. “Shit, what the hell are you doing here?”

Peering behind me, wondering what he was looking for, I said, “Don't act stupid. You know why I'm here. I need to talk about my sister.”