Joyce
“So let me get this straight,” Landon says. We’re in my office, but now he’s at my desk and I’m sitting across from him. It’s the place where a client would sit, but right now, it feels more like I’m a little girl who has somehow managed to get herself in eight kinds of trouble.
Oliver and Ronan are on either side of me. They’re standing, towering over me, but I’m ignoring them. Instead, I’m focusing my gaze completely on Landon. One giant shifter at a time, please.
“You’ve been following Logan in your free time, and you’ve managed to somehow get copies of all of the official police reports, along with the not-so-official police reports. You’ve created a scenario where you think he was originally going to kidnap you, but he took her instead, and now you think he’s going to come after you. Is that all?”
“She wasn’t the one he wanted,” I say, pleading, knowing I sound like a complete idiot. “Did you see the emails?”
“I don’t even want to know how you got those,” Oliver groans. I know he’s beyond stressed right now, but it’s his own fault. He shouldn’t have pushed me. I was perfectly fine with my investigation into Charlene Hill’s disappearance. I was fine. I was doing fine, and I was moving along, and I was figuring out what happened to her.
He shouldn’t have questioned me.
That’s the problem with being part of the shifter club, though: these guys are my family. They’re my life. They’re everything to me. I never had brothers growing up, but Ronan, Landon, and Ollie are exactly that. They look after me and they protect me and they take care of me.
And now?
Now they’re just doing what they think is right. They’re trying once more to keep me safe, to protect me. The problem is that this time, I don’t want their protection. I don’t need it. This time, I’m totally fine on my own, and I wish they would understand that.
“It’s not what you think,” I protest lightly, but I immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say. The glares that cover their faces speak volumes.
This is a group of lawyers, for dragon’s sake. They’re used to people being in denial. They’re used to liars. What they’re not used to is honesty.
Maybe it’s time I get honest with them.
Maybe it’s time I trust them, a little bit.
I might as well because despite the fact that I am a grown-ass woman, something tells me if I don’t fess up really, really soon, I’m not going to be leaving this house without an escort for a very, very long time.
“Okay,” I finally say. “It is what you think.”
Immediately, they all start talking at once.
“What do you mean?”
“Why would you look into this on your own?”
“Don’t you know there are police officers who handle things like this?”
“It’s not your case to look into, Joyce.”
“Anything could have happened to you!”
“He could have taken you, too.”
I sit there while they talk over one another, pushing and shoving to be the top dog in this fight, and I close my eyes.
It should have never come to this.
The fighting.
The yelling.
I should have skipped this entire part. I should have just been honest with them. They would have understood. I know it. These are good, honest, hard-working men who deserve to be trusted because they have all always trusted me.
I just didn’t want them involved in this miniature investigation because I didn’t want them to stop me. I knew it was stupid. I also knew they’d do anything they needed to do in order to protect me, and I couldn’t have that.
Charlene Hill is still out there.
She might be dead, and she might be alive, but someone needs to find out what happened to her. Someone needs to find out what caused a straight-A college student to sleep with her English professor. Someone needs to find out what she saw in him. Someone needs to find out how he tricked her.
Someone.
That someone could be me.
I don’t know what I expect to find. I’m going to keep digging, though. That much is certain. I’m going to keep digging and searching and turning over every damn rock I find if it means justice for Charlene.
Someone needs to rescue her.
And if I find her, and she’s already dead, I’ll probably never forgive myself. I’ll never let myself forget that he wanted me, but he took her. He wanted to steal me away, but Charlene was a replacement. I’ll never forget that I’m the reason she’s gone.
I will never forget.
“Joyce?” A hand is on my shoulder. I look up into Ollie’s warm eyes. “Are you okay? You’ve just been staring straight ahead, darling.”
“You do look a little white,” Landon says. His voice is also quiet, and I realize they’re trying to calm me down.
“I’m sorry,” I shake my head. “The noise just…it got to me.”
“Can you tell us everything, Joyce?” Ronan asks carefully. “Can you start from the beginning?” He looks at me like he believes in me, and even though I’m not really sure if I can do this, I know he thinks I can.
“Please,” Landon adds. “It would help us understand what’s been happening.”
“What we’ve been missing,” Ollie adds, and I realize he sounds sad. For him, this must feel like a betrayal, and I’m scared to look back into his eyes.
Is he going to think less of me?
Is he going to feel like I tricked him?
Of course he is.
And it’s all my fault.
“You guys know Logan and I went out for a few months.”
“We didn’t know at the time,” Oliver points out.
“Right. Well, I’m not that open when it comes to my relationships,” I tell them. “I’m kind of a private person, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Yeah, we know,” Landon says.
“Well, one night, I was supposed to be in wine class, but the teacher bailed, so I just went back to Logan’s place. I didn’t have a key or anything. We weren’t that close. I had texted him, but he didn’t respond, so I just drove over to see if he was around and wanted to hang out.”
I take a deep breath because this is the hard part.
This is the part where things get rough.
This is the part where I wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn’t walked through that door.
“Joyce,” Ronan reaches for me. His hand is on my shoulder, and he grounds me. “Take as long as you need, okay? There’s no rush.”
“It’s true,” Landon says. I look up at him and he smiles. “We cleared our schedule for the day.”
“But what about the Peterson case?”
“I think we all know the Peterson case can wait another day.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath, and then I start talking once more.
“I went up to the door and I knocked, but no one answered. His car was outside, so I thought maybe he had headphones in and couldn’t hear me.” I shake my head. “He used to wear them to block out the noise from the cars while he was working at home.”
“It’s understandable you thought that might be what was happening,” Oliver agrees.
“I didn’t think he was ignoring me or anything like that. I didn’t think he was up to no good. I just thought hey, he’s working, and he can’t hear me, so I’ll surprise him, you know?”
I was so stupid. I was so naïve. I was so ignorant of the way the world works. How could I have really thought he was just in his office working? How could I have really, truly believed that?
“I turned the knob. The door was unlocked. I walked inside.”
“Did you call out for him?” Ronan asks.
“No,” I shake my head. It’s a good thing I didn’t because I wouldn’t have caught them in the act if I’d given them fair warning. Then again, if I hadn’t caught them, I wouldn’t have broken up with Logan, and I would have been the girl he stole away.
Although it’s been weeks since that night, the visualization is still so clear in my head. I can still smell the candles burning in his house. I can still picture the clothes tossed on the floor. I can still remember wondering why his place was so unusually messy.
Normally, Logan was very neat. We’d only been together a short time, but I understood that fully. He was very tidy and very organized. He never left dirty dishes in the sink or dirty clothes on the floor. He was meticulous, and I should have registered what the clothes meant.
They meant he was with someone.
They meant he was a liar.
Those clothes meant that any idea I had about what my life meant was fake. I was being tricked, and I had no idea. I was being pushed away, and I didn’t realize it. I had absolutely no clue that Logan was about to completely screw me over. I didn’t know what he was capable of.
“I walked into the house. It was dark, but I didn’t turn any lights on.”
“Why not?” Landon asks.
“There were candles everywhere,” I tell him.
“Romantic,” Oliver mutters.
“No,” I shake my head. “It’s common for Logan. He likes to have candles burning to help him think. He thinks they’re better for creating thoughts than regular lights are.” I shake my head. It’s such a stupid theory.
“What happened next?” Oliver asks.
“I went down the hallway. There were clothes on the floor, but I didn’t look closely enough to realize they were a woman’s clothes. I thought he just had come home and tossed his clothes onto the ground. Looking back, I realize that was stupid. I should have known.”
“It’s not your fault, Joyce.”
Once again, Oliver is the voice of reason.
“I feel like it’s my fault,” I whisper, and Oliver instantly pulls me up and into his arms.
“Never say that again,” he says.
“It’s not your fault,” Landon echoes.
“You’re not responsible for what other people do,” Ronan agrees. “It sounds like this guy is completely insane, honey, and you’re lucky you got out when you did.”
After a minute, I feel calm enough to start talking again, and I sit back down.
“I went around the corner and into his office, but it was empty. That’s when I realized something was weird. Logan lights candles and goes into his office. He doesn’t really hang out in his bedroom, so when I started to go toward the bedroom, I realized something was wrong.”
So wrong.
I didn’t realize at the time that this moment would change my entire future: my entire life.
It would change Charlene’s, too.
“I went to the doorway and they were in bed together. Naked. Both of them.” I shake my head. “She saw me first, and her eyes went wide. She shrieked, and hopped out of bed, and wrapped herself in a blanket or a sheet or something. I’m not sure.”
“And what did he say?” Oliver asks gently.
“He asked what I was doing there. Can you believe it? He wanted to know why I’d come into his house without asking permission, as if the entire situation was somehow my fault, as if this entire thing was simply because I couldn’t be bothered to knock at his front door.”
His words made me feel gross, dirty. They made me doubt myself. Even now, I still doubt myself when I think of the things he said to me.
How could you have betrayed my trust like this, Joyce?
Why would you break into someone’s house, Joyce?
Do you know I can call the police on you, Joyce?
“He yelled at me. He threatened to call the police and have me arrested. I knew the stuff he was telling me was crap. I’ve worked with you guys long enough to know I wouldn’t be charged with breaking into his house or anything like that, but it unnerved me. I almost felt bad for Charlene. She didn’t seem to know Logan had a girlfriend. She apologized to me, but I couldn’t even look at her.”
“That’s not your fault, either,” Landon says quickly. “You were in distress. It wasn’t your job to try to comfort the other woman.”
“I know, but it still makes me feel bad.” I shake my head. “I kind of pride myself on being kind and helpful to the people around me, but that was just really hard for me. I couldn’t be there for her.”
“Is that why you’re trying to find out what happened to her?” Oliver asks quietly. “Are you trying to make up for that night?”
“A little.”
A lot.
“I left that night and didn’t look back. Logan called me, came to my apartment, emailed me constantly. I thought about getting a restraining order, but it seemed too extreme.”
“Fucking dragons,” Ronan shakes his head. “Joyce, you’ve worked with countless domestic violence victims.”
“I know,” I tell him. “But it’s different when it’s you, Ronan, and you know it. It’s super easy to tell other people to do these things and take these steps, but when it’s you, it’s different, and you question yourself. Besides, he never laid a hand on me.”
“She’s right,” Landon shakes his head. “It would have been tricky to get a restraining order for a professor who, as far as his social appearance goes, is pretty spotless. He never called her from his own phone after the breakup. That would have made it nearly impossible to determine he was the one harassing her. The police would have been hesitant to issue a restraining order in an instance like that.”
“How do you know that?” I ask. “About the phone calls, I mean.” I knew it, but I hadn’t told anyone.
“You aren’t the only one with secrets, darling,” Landon says, and I wonder how long he’s been keeping an eye on Logan.
“What happened next?” Oliver asks.
“That was it, at least I thought that was it. He kept coming by, and eventually I yelled at him and he stopped. It was all very sudden. I don’t know if he was dating Charlene or not. He told me they were over, but I think we all know that once you’ve gone down the road of lying, it’s a lot easier to stay on that road than to hop off.”
“So he just stopped calling you?”
“Yeah. For a few weeks.”
“And then Charlene disappeared,” Ollie looks thoughtful.
“Did he contact you after that?” Landon asks.
“No,” I say. I’m certain of it. I was very wary after I discovered Charlene was missing because I was so worried he was involved. I was so worried that Logan had taken her.
“What about weird messages or phone calls that weren’t from him?” Ronan asks. “Did anyone call you and hang up? Any random wrong numbers? Weird voice mails?”
“Come to think of it,” I say, and then I stop speaking because I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. “I got a bunch of wrong number calls that week. I assumed people were calling because of the case and wanted to pester the old girlfriend of the criminal, but I don’t know that our relationship was ever publicized.”
“Fuck,” Oliver says. “It could have been him calling to check up on you.”
“Wouldn’t he have wanted to gloat, though? Why would he call me and not say anything? In the past, he always had a very clear message for me.”
“Maybe he wanted to make sure you were sticking around,” Ronan says. “If you’re right, Joyce, and he wants you instead of Charlene, then he would have called to keep tabs on you. He probably watches you, too.”
“But why take Charlene and not Joyce? It’s been awhile. Why would he wait to make his move?” Landon asks.
“Because as soon as he took Charlene, I moved in with you guys,” I tell him. I’ve spent hours thinking about this and coming up with different theories. “I moved in with you, and this house is impenetrable. My old apartment would have made me easy to snatch up, but this place? There’s no way he’s getting in here.”
“So he’s probably watching,” Oliver says.
“And waiting,” Landon adds.
“He’s hunting,” I whisper. “And I’m next, you guys.”