Chuck opened his eyes and stared into the dark. He strained to hear any odd noise that would've woke him. There was only silence. Too much silence.

He lowered his hand and felt for Erikka. The bed was empty. Rolling into a sitting position, he grabbed his jeans off the floor and shoved his feet in the legs. They'd only had a few hours' sleep. She should be in bed, getting her rest after the sex they'd had.

"Love?" He walked down the hallway to the bathroom. The door was open, and the room was dark.

Hurrying down the stairs, he gazed into the kitchen as his foot hit the bottom step. The light was off. "Erikka?"

No reply came.

He reached into his pocket. "Fuck," he muttered. He'd left his phone upstairs.

Checking the sliding glass door, he found it locked from the inside. His accelerated pulse brought him fully awake. He rushed out of the room, through the living room, and stopped at the front door. It was unlocked.

He stepped outside and found Erikka bundled in a blanket standing at the end of the porch. She turned and gave him a smile that never reached her eyes.

Slowing his panic, he walked over to her. "What are you doing?"

She exhaled loudly. "I thought maybe Stoddard or whoever took Rachel might drive by her house again, and if they did, they'd be going right past your house. I thought if I could see someone who looked suspicious, I could get their license plate number to give to Lieutenant Gomez."

His worry at finding her missing disappeared and he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "We've had proof that she flew to Cabo," he said, reminding her.

"I know, but we don't have proof that she could've flown back here." She laid her head back against his chest. "I just thought...I needed something to do. I'm living with you, happy with how we've grown close, and feeling like I'm failing Rachel. If it were me, I wouldn't want her starting a new relationship when she could be saving my life."

"You're being unfair to yourself." He stared over her head out into the street. Daylight was only beginning, and the street lights cast a depressing scene in front of him. "I speak from experience. You've done more than most people do when a loved one goes missing. Most people don't hire outside of letting the police know the details. Not because their desire to find someone is less, but because in their worry, they don't think about asking for extra help."

"One person left a message on our work phone after the police report came out in the newspaper," she said. "A psychic from Alabama or Arkansas wanted to help me find Rachel."

He scoffed. She turned in his arms. "I take it you're not a believer."

"No." He rubbed her blanket-covered arms. "Come in and warm up."

Her gaze dropped to his bare chest. "You didn't even get dressed."

"I expected you to be beside me and found you gone." He frowned. "Don't go outside again without telling me. I'll come out here anytime you want."

"You were sleeping hard and needed the rest." She raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "I didn't want to bother you, and with Mr. Markham in jail, I felt safe."

He grunted and guided her into the house. The world wasn't safe enough for Erikka. The thought of losing her to an accident or being at the wrong place at the wrong time had him wanting to lock her in the house.

Inside, he went to the kitchen and made coffee. Pushing the start button of the machine, he returned to the living room where Erikka had shed the blanket. She was fully dressed. Damn.

Normally, he would've woke up with any shift of the bed or footsteps across the room. She'd worn him out last night because he hadn't heard or felt a thing when she slipped out of  bed.

"I put coffee on." He sat down on the couch and linked his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs.

"After you have a cup, can you walk me over to my house? I haven't picked up the mail for a week. I should get Rachel's, too. Her box is probably full." She stood by the window, and her shoulders rose and fell. "I used to always pick up her mail and take it to her house because she was always forgetting. I used to tease her that I should've been the older sister because I was more organized and had a schedule I liked to keep, while she was more laidback and carefree."

"Yeah, we can ride over and check each mailbox."

She made an airy sound that told him she was trying to pull herself out of the depression that hit her in the night. "Walking is good exercise."

"So is riding." He winked. "The Harley needs to be warmed up anyway."

"I'm going to run a comb through my hair and brush my teeth. I'll be ready whenever you are." She picked the blanket off the chair and carried it with her upstairs.

He ran his hands over his head. Erikka could do with any kind of distraction to keep her occupied.

The coffee maker gurgled. He walked up the stairs, grabbed the rest of the clothes he'd need to finish dressing and his phone. In the kitchen, he drank his coffee while lacing up his boots. He'd finished the bottom of his cup when his phone rang.

Reading Galeeno's name on the screen, he connected the call. "Yeah?"

"She's not here, Chuck. We've turned over every rock, and the closest we got was one of the local men thinks he saw a pretty woman of Rachel's description."

"Damn. I was afraid of that." He lowered his voice. "I'll call you back after I talk to Erikka and see what she wants to do. Give me an hour."

He put the phone in his pocket and finished off his coffee, not tasting the richness. He'd worked with Galeeno many times over the years. The man was thorough and competent. If he said Rachel wasn't in Cabo, then she wasn't there.

Erikka walked into the room and wrinkled her nose. He moved to fill another mug, and she turned down the offer of coffee.

"You sure?" he asked.

She put her hand on her stomach. "I'll have a cup when we get back from picking up the mail. I don't think I'm ready for caffeine yet."

He'd need to make sure she ate some toast or something, too. Shrugging into his Notus vest, he strolled with her out to the driveway. At his motorcycle, he motioned for her to continue walking.

She matched him step for step, glancing at him. "I thought you wanted to ride."

"I need to talk with you." He hooked her neck, bringing her closer, and left his hand on her. "Galeeno called —"

"Did he find Rachel?"

The hope in her question made his gut ache. He leaned over and kissed her temple. "No, love. He's scoured the area, and there are no leads."

"Maybe he missed some places, a hotel, or a private home," she said.

He forced himself to slow down and let her have time to absorb the news. "It's your call on where you want to go from here. I can tell you from working with Galeeno in the past that he wouldn't make the declaration unless he's checked everywhere."

She looked away. Her hand came up and swatted at her cheek. He could feel the quake of her tears in her neck, the sobs she held inside. If he could take the pain away, he would in a heartbeat.

At the end of the block, she stopped before crossing the road. "So, that's it? Everyone is going to expect me to give up on finding Rachel?"

"No. Absolutely not." He let go when she shrugged his touch away. "Notus will continue to make inquiries. That's how we had found out she'd gone to Cabo with Stoddard. If she's not there, she'll need to be somewhere else. It's not as easy to be missing when people continue to look."

"Unless she's dead." She clamped her mouth shut and crossed the road.

He took off after her and caught up with her in the middle of the street. "We're not giving up on your sister, I promise."

There were certain subjects that wouldn't be easy on her. He wished there was a way to protect her from bad news, but she'd need to face the possibilities of Rachel missing on her own. It was the only way she would survive once she received all the answers.

He stopped in front of the mailboxes across from Erikka's house. Every house on the street had a dedicated box in one localized spot. Ten boxes to a row, three boxes high. None of them had locks because the newer subdivision urged neighbors to look out for each other. He always found the opposite to be true. People grew comfortable in their surroundings until they stopped noticing strangers, cars, and activities around them.

"Sheesh, she never even reads half the magazines she received. You'd think it's been more than a week since I picked up her mail." Erikka stacked Rachelle's mail in the crook of her arm and moved down three boxes.

She opened the door, reached in, pulled out an envelope, and a pebble fell out and landed between her feet. Erikka froze.

Knowing how jumpy she was today, he said, "It was just a rock. Probably some kid..."

Erikka dropped all the mail in her arms and peered into the box, shoving her hand all the way back. She turned, picked up the rock on the ground, and straightened, holding her clenched fist in front of her. The huge smile and tears rolling over her eyelashes had him stepping forward.

"She's alive." Erikka's sob escaped. "Rachel's here. She's alive. The rocks. They're from her. She's telling me she's here. We need to find her."

"Hang on." He grabbed her arm, stopping her from running down the sidewalk. "Tell me what's going on."

Erikka opened her hand. Two small pebbles were on her palm. "When we were little girls, my dad would take us to work with him. To entertain us, he bought two mailboxes and set them up in the back room, so we could "play office" and pretend to mail each other letters. They were just drawings and I-love-you cards we'd made, but we played that for years. Every day, Dad would sneak into the back and put a rock in each of our mailboxes if we were good. He might not have been sentimental, but he had a great imagination. Anyway, on Fridays, he let us turn in our collection of rocks to the jar he kept on his desk. Those rocks paid for our ice cream on the way home. I always kept my rocks and took them home, not wanting to put them in the jar, and Rachel always felt bad that I wouldn't get an ice cream. So, she always gave me two rocks when Dad wasn't looking so I could get an ice cream, too. These rocks are from Rachel. She's the only one who would know what it means."

He squeezed the back of her neck. There were only two reasons why common road pebbles were in her mailbox. The number one reason being children thought it would be fun to fill the boxes with something that was right at their feet. Or, it could be a sign from her sister, and Rachel was in St. John's.

She grabbed his arm. "Come on. We need to go home and call Lieutenant Gomez."

Hating to dash her hopes, he walked with her toward home. Rachel had been gone almost two months. The first twenty-four hours were the most important. After that, a person would have a bigger chance winning the lottery than finding a missing person who had been abducted.