By the time I get back to my place, I know she’s gone.

It’s like that leash she’s got me on is stretched between us, and the farther and farther away she gets, the tighter it pulls, stretching thin but never quite breaking. Just strangling harder around my neck and making it near impossible to breathe.

I sit in the driveway outside my AirBnB, staring at the quaint little frame style house without really seeing it. It’s just shadows in the dark and little hints of color catching the moonlight. I’d picked it because it was blue, but now it just looks as washed out and grey as everything else while my fingers curl hard on the steering wheel and I fight this choking, shitty feeling in my gut.

I shouldn’t have left her. I shouldn’t have let her chase me off.

Shouldn’t have let her leave San Francisco alone, running after dead ends that could still get her hurt real bad if someone takes offense to her line of questioning. Maybe I’m not her real boyfriend, but I’m her real bodyguard.

And I love her.

I love that sweet fuckin' cactus of a woman. All Sky's needles and spurs have dug right into my body and left their mark.

And that’s why I walked away.

Because there’s only so much pain a man can take, even someone masochistic enough to love a wildcat like Skylar Szabo.

I almost laugh as I sit here with that realization slamming me, both a heavy weight on my chest and a lightness whooshing out of my lungs. I love her.

I love her, and goddamn if I don’t want to try coaxing her into loving me back.

Tomorrow. She’ll be halfway to Redding by now, and I know her well enough to know if I call while she’s driving I’ll get no answer and no call back when she finally settles at a hotel, tired and probably still mad enough to spit nails. I’ll call her on my way out the door.

I got some legwork to do around here, and then hopefully I can go fetch her home from Redding with some good news.

Bad news?

She ain’t picking up my calls.

I try again and again over a quick breakfast sandwich – our favorite combo meal – and nothing. Not answering texts, either.

I really hope she’s just laying low, maybe muted her phone, and she's not in deep shit with people who don’t want her poking around and getting messy up in their business.

I've never wanted a woman to be mad at me more than I do now.

I’d rather she was ignoring me than in the sort of trouble where I can’t find her to bail her out.

Maybe she won’t pick up for me, but she might pick up for her grandmother. I need Eva's help.

Besides, it’ll ease my mind to know Eva and Monika have stayed untouched during this mess we’ve stirred up, anyway. So after I finish wolfing my hash browns and fire off one more text to Sky, I hit the road and head to their place across town.

That woman must have ears like a hunting dog, because before I’ve even got the Dodge in park, she’s on the doorstep, waving and calling my name with a broad smile, like I’m family already.

Dammit. I feel like shit for the way I’ve been lying to her, but I don’t even know it’s about to get even worse till I’m out of the truck with a broad grin and through the gate, catching her on the sidewalk as she spills down the front steps to hug me tight.

“Gabe,” she says, squeezing me with enough strength for someone with twice her tiny bird frame, then pulls back and pats my arm, looking at me with a mixture of warmth and puzzlement. “It’s so good to see you, but I thought you and Skylar were in Napa?”

Napa? Fuck.

Only years of practice keeps me from going full on deer in headlights. Sky must’ve told them she took me up on that invite so they wouldn’t worry about where she was really going.

I gotta roll with the punches, and quick.

“She’s up there now,” I lie. “But she forgot some stuff at home. I’m trying to give her a break, so I said I’d come back for it and let her rest. She asked me to check in on y’all while I’m here.” Hell, that’s flimsy. I need something more distracting. I clear my throat, ducking my head and scrubbing a hand through my hair. “And you know, I...say, Eva, you were talkin’ ‘bout rings last time...”

Eva eyes me sidelong, then smiles almost coyly and mock-swats my chest. “Ah, you sly devil, you. I think I see where this is going.” She hooks her arm into mine and practically force-marches me up the steps into the house. “You wanted to propose somewhere romantic, young man, is that it?”

“Uh. Yeah! Thing is, I don’t know Sky's ring size.”

Monika’s head pops up over the half-wall dividing the kitchen and dining room.

“Ring size?” Her eyes are wide as saucers. “Oh my God! You’re...you're going to propose to Skylar?”

Fuck.

I've really stepped in it now. I gotta keep this up. “Yeah, but...I don’t know her ring size, and I don’t know how to ask without being too obvious. I was hoping you knew.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Grandma Eva says with a thoughtful frown, then brightens and ushers me toward a seat at the dining room table.

She’s strong-arming me like a bouncer, and I’m going along with it – though I almost flinch from the overpoweringly sweet-spicy smell coming from a plate of pastries set out in the center of the table.

I get distracted, though, by the warm scent of dog as that big ol’ Shepherd jumps on me like we’re best buddies, tumbling into my arms and lap while I scratch behind his ears and give him a good friendly shake. He’s a heavy dog, Eber, but we match each other real good, and after a few scratches he settles, content with his head in my lap.

Eva’s rubbing her chin. “I think I can find out.”

Monika wrinkles her brow. “Can’t rings be sized right later on?”

“Don’t be silly.” Eva brushes her shoulder with one hand before sailing to the phone propped in a charger on the counter. “Gabe wants it to be perfect! Only the best for our Skylar. So, now, let’s make it perfect.”

Her eyes that are so much like Sky's pearly blues almost twinkle, and I can practically see the words kiss the bride in Eva's world-weary gaze. It's like a sword running through me.

“Yeah,” I manage, trying not to gag on the words and my own filthy lies. “Just perfect.”

It’s the smile that crosses Monika’s face again that’s killing me the worst.

She’s so bright, so animated. Christ.

This girl thinks she’s gonna be my sister-in-law, when her sister would probably spit in my face if I showed up in Redding with a ring. How many ways can a guy buy his ticket straight to hell?

Please, fuck. Please don’t let me have just made things ten times worse.

Grandma Eva purses her lips, then pulls her phone away from her ear and looks at it like it personally offended her. “Of course she’s not answering. That girl ignores her phone too much.”

“She’s probably asleep,” I venture. In for a penny, in for a pound, and I don’t want them to worry. “We were up kind of late last night.” At Eva’s sly look and Monika’s glittering smile, I hold my hands up. “Driving. Don’t y’all start now.”

Monika snorts, while Eva chuckles and hits the redial button with her thumb. “I’ll just leave her a voicemail,” she says, lifting the phone to her ear again and turning away.

Monika opens her mouth as if she might say something, but then pauses at a knock on the front door. With a quick smile and a murmur that she’ll be right back, she slips around the table and heads through the living room to the door.

I catch a voice that sounds faintly familiar, paired with hers. My ears perk up.

Skylar's sis sounds warm, welcoming, while he's just...tense, agitated, the friendliness in it so forced it sounds almost exasperated.

When she returns, it’s with a slim, older man with neatly combed iron-grey hair in tow. That Apple guy...Applebaum? Appleroth.

His eyes are a little too wide, his smile frozen in a way that carves furrows in his cheeks, and tiny beads of sweat gleam along the ridges of his brows. Friendly Mr. Rogers is looking a little stressed today, and something about it sets me on edge.

Especially when he flings me a look as he catches sight of me.

Like he hadn’t expected me to be here and it’s goddamn well ruined his day. But he recovers lickety-split, and flashes another smile as he edges around me – I take up a lot of space at a small table, all right? – and leans over to start wrapping up the pastries in a cloth he brought.

“Terribly sorry,” he says. He’s talking quickly, his voice pitched a little too high, like his throat is tight with nerves. Or, hell, is it fear? “I made these all wrong. So embarrassing. They’re for another neighbor, really not suited to your tastes. I must have mixed the baskets up.” He smacks his forehead just a little too playfully.

Monika laughs anyway.

He’s already turning away, steps small but quick, hitching, and he throws a plastic smile over his shoulder as he motors toward the door like the Devil’s on his tail. “Be back soon, ladies...and gent. I’ll just drop these off with the right folks and bring you a new basket before I leave.”

I don’t think he’s in the house thirty seconds before he’s gone, leaving all of us sitting there blinking. I feel like I just got hit by a whirlwind, and from those blank expressions, Eva and Monika feel the same.

“Well.” Eva pats her skirt primly, hanging up her phone. “That was unusual.”

Monika smiles wryly. “Poor Jim. The stress of the move must be getting to him. I think he feels guilty.”

“Guilty? What for?” I ask.

“Leaving us behind,” Monika answers. “He’s practically part of the family. I...I kind of depend on him a little too much, I think. Especially since –”

She breaks off, lowering her eyes. I don’t need her to finish that sentence. I reach across and cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently and offering a smile. I don’t want to make her any promises, but in my own way, I need her to know I’m trying.

Her eyes well wetly, and she offers me a brave smile, turning her hand to squeeze back. “You’re a good man, Gabe,” she says. “I see why Sky likes you.”

My blood heats. I don’t know if it’s guilt, embarrassment, or the idea that Sky might actually like me instead of just keeping me around for convenience.

Her family knows her. They know her well enough to know what she’s feeling, what she’s thinking, her little signs and signals and I suddenly want to ask them if they think this could be forever.

I can’t drop the mask just yet, though, so I just hold Monika’s hand tightly. “Some days I ain’t so sure of that,” I tease. “But she hasn’t killed me yet.”

Monika trails into a trembling laugh, and Eva strokes her shoulder. “None of that now, darling dear. It’ll be all right.” I can see both strength and love in her touch, plus the patented Szabo stubbornness that makes me adore all these goddamn women, even if it’s a pale light compared to the fire I feel for Sky. Eva turns a warm look on me. “I’ll find out about the ring size, don’t you worry. There are jewelers in Napa Valley; you go on back. Don’t you leave my granddaughter alone when you don’t have to. I’ll call after I’ve dug something up.”

“Sure thing.”

I don’t get out without another sloppy lick from the dog, a weepy hug from Monika, and a firmer one from Eva.

It's official: I'm a shit-heel. Lying my way through this and then lying some more.

I gotta cover Sky’s lie, too. I hate being dishonest with these wonderful people, but I ain’t gonna bring more fear or worry into their lives, either. Not unless it’s necessary.

Finally, I pry myself away and head out to my truck. For a minute I just sit there and catch my breath, rubbing at my temples and then thunking my head against the steering wheel. I’d hoped to just get some confirmation Sky’s all right, but if she’s not even picking up for her grandma, then something's fucked.

Guess I’m driving up to Redding, and just hoping if I’m thorough enough, I can track that little firecracker down.

Leaning back in the seat, I pull up my phone’s GPS and the quickest route to Redding, then lean forward and slip the phone into the dash holder.

As I lean back, a hint of purposeful motion catches my attention.

I scan down the street and catch sight of that neighbor guy, Jim. I’d already half-forgotten him, just slotting him away as one of those weird but harmless older fellas.

Still, there’s something in his face right now that captures my attention. Looks almost like recrimination, disgust, as he lifts the lid on his curbside trash can and dumps the entire wrapped bundle of pastries he’d just taken from Eva’s house into the can.

“Thought they were going to another neighbor?” I whisper to myself quietly.

Old Jim just stands there, staring down into the can for a tired moment, completely unaware that I’m staring at him. That uneasy feeling I’d started to get at the house ramps up right now, and suddenly he doesn’t seem all that harmless.

Not when there’s something heavy and haunted lingering around his brow, and he’s got bitter lines carved around his mouth that make all this kindliness a lie.

Hell, or is it another lie?

That he was going to drop those pastries off where they belonged instead of canning them?

Something stinks real bad, and it sure ain't the garbage.

Why? Why’d he go and get himself so fired up about taking the pastries back if he was just gonna toss 'em?

I have to find out what's really going on.

I wait till after dark. Ain’t no good sneaking up on a man’s front walk in broad daylight. I can’t hang around here with Grandma Eva’s eagle eye watching, as she’ll wonder why I’m parked outside her place and not making tracks back to Sky where I belong.

I drive a few blocks away, settle in to wait, and send Skylar a few more texts. Nothing. Nada. She still won’t answer the phone, but this time I leave her a voicemail.

“Sky, we gotta talk,” I say. “It ain’t about us. It’s about Joannie. Forget our fight. This is important. I think I found out who’s been throwing us off the trail. And I need to know everything you know about that neighbor of yours. That Appleroth guy.”

I hang the phone up, close my eyes, and count to ten, waiting, pleading.

Hoping she'll listen to the voicemail even if she won’t answer and call me back ASAP. Either I need her to tell me something that lays my fears to rest, or I need her sweet ass back here quick as flyin', because suddenly I feel like a swinging guillotine’s hanging over my head.

My head, and Joannie’s.

The wait's a killer. Even after dark I hold on. Don’t want the guy to look up from dinner and see me skulking around.

Last thing I need is a tangle with the cops. You can be damned sure when it comes to kindly old Mr. Conductor there, I’m gonna come up looking real bad, terrorizing an old man.

He’ll probably drop off early, though, and then I’ll have my chance. I spend the time Googling him, turning up nothing. Not uncommon for guys his age to have a ghostly presence on the web, but it doesn't do a damn thing for helping my suspicions. I'm sending Sky more texts, too.

A whole heaping lot of 'em.

Sky, I know you’re ignoring me. I know.

But please come home.

I got a bad feeling about this Appleroth guy. He’s acting all funny, and he came and took these really smelly pastries back and said he was gonna give them to a neighbor, then I caught him throwing them away.

Maybe it’s nothing, but it’s more of a lead than we’ve got.

That last bit...I wish I hadn’t said it, but it’s already sent. Reason we started fighting is because I doubted her leads and said we had nothing.

Because I took away her hope.

I’m trying to give it back, but I wonder if I’m grasping at straws, too. Doing just what she’s doing and seeing what I want to see, because I need there to be a villain other than Harmon.

I mean, c’mon. It's gotta be my imagination.

The only crime that guy’s probably guilty of is being as mild-manneredly creepy as John Waters.

Still, I need to be sure. Need to look under every rock.

When the clock’s ticking up on half to midnight, I let myself out of my truck, lock up, and go for a little old mosey around the block.

I keep it real casual.

Just a normal fella out for a night stroll, making his way down the sidewalk. Neighbors might not recognize me, but people get visitors constantly, so it ain’t that weird as long as I act natural.

I stroll up the street toward Appleroth’s house. That big moving van in front’s going to be a blessing since it blocks off most views from the street.

His windows are dark. Good.

Probably already drooling into his pillow.

I steal a quick look around. The street’s quiet, only a few crickets and the occasional car cruising past, nobody interested in me.

I don’t see any blinds parted with peeping eyes, or silhouettes moving past windows. It’s a quiet, sleepy neighborhood, the kind of place where you just don’t expect to have a kid snatched up or be living right next door to a kidnapper.

Perfect camouflage, if you really think about it.

Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I hustle over to Appleroth’s trash can and lift the lid. There’s the wrapped pastries.

I tug the cloth out of the way just to be sure it’s the same thing and not something else he bundled up in the same wrapper. The smell hits me first, powerful enough to overwhelm the general garbage funk.

Sweet Jesus.

My eyes nearly water from the cinnamon, strong as mustard gas, and I start to turn away and close the lid before a bright splash of rainbow color underneath the pastries catches my eye.

A semi-translucent trash bag lies underneath, tied off and filled with bits and bobs like tissues, plastic spoons, old Ensure bottles.

And diapers.

Tucked up neatly in a little ball. I can’t quite smell ‘em, but I know baby diapers, and these are too small for an adult. And wedged in among them –

Fuck.

A teething ring. A little rainbow jelly thing, looking like it’s been mangled beyond belief, no good for anyone but the landfill anymore.

My brain rabbits, trying to look for any explanation other than the one right in front of me. Appleroth said he didn’t have any family here.

He’s on the move. In a hurry to get to Montana, way out in the asscrack of nowhere. Some tiny, off the radar town where he’ll never be found again. And from what I saw in the news articles, Joannie’s the right age to need diapers and would probably be teething and upset.

It’s a miracle we haven’t heard her crying all up and down the street, unless...

I can’t breathe. I’m gonna be sick.

I can’t fuckin' believe it’s been right here under our noses this entire time, just a few blocks down the street from her mother.

Jim Appleroth took little Joannie.

He's the kidnapper.

And if he hurt her in any way, I’m gonna rip his throat out with my teeth.