“It’s common sense,” she says. “Where else would he be?”
“My guess is somewhere at the bottom of Lake Michigan.” Levi’s answer to this same question lingers in my mind.
“Was Colton really so awful?” I ask Mom. We haven’t talked about my past beyond what she thought was necessary to keep me safe. I think we’ve both been too afraid.
“Not on the surface.” She shrugs. “You brought him home a few times.”
I bite my lip. I brought a drug addict home to meet my mom?
“He seemed nice. He made you happy.” The smile falls from her face. “Until he didn’t.”
“When . . .” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “When was that? When did things change?”
“Sometime over the summer. You didn’t talk about it, but mother’s intuition. I knew something was wrong. Something was different.”
Something was different. Was it the pregnancy? Had news of an unexpected baby turned my formerly loving boyfriend into an abusive fiancé? You hear stories about that, though I’ve never understood them. Why would a pregnancy turn a man abusive?
Or did the change have something to do with Levi Jackson?
“Your people need to find Colton and lock him up for what he did to my Ellie.”
The detective sighs heavily. “Ms. Courdrey, we’ve discussed this. There’s no warrant for Colton McKinley’s arrest, because there’s no physical evidence to suggest there should be. He’s a missing person, much like his father.”
“How can you say you have no evidence when you saw her in the hospital?” Mom asks. “You saw her connected to all those machines. Black and blue.”
“At this point, we don’t have any evidence to support that Colton was responsible. No one had seen him for days before the assault.”
No evidence. The detective who interviewed me before didn’t tell me that. Maybe because they were still processing evidence? But why didn’t anyone tell me Colton had been missing days before the attack? Doesn’t that mean it’s unlikely he’s guilty? Why did my family let me believe the man I was engaged to tried to kill me? “You mean Colton might not be the one who hurt me?”
“I respect your mother’s opinion on the matter and understand why she’d blame him,” Huxley says, “but at this point in time, we don’t know who was responsible for your injuries.”
I’m so confused. Is anything I believe true?
“She tried to leave him the week before,” Mom says. He flew into a jealous rage.” The tilt of her chin dares anyone to contradict her. “This happens with abusive men.”
“I’d tried to leave him?” I ask.
The detective shifts. “My understanding is that you broke up briefly, but you’d gotten back together not long before Colton disappeared.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?” I ask my mother. How could she lie to me? All this time I’ve been terrified of a man I loved without evidence? “I know you’ve been keeping my mail from me. I know I have friends who have sent me cards, but you’ve pretended they don’t exist. You told my friends I wanted distance instead of letting me make that decision for myself.”
“He almost killed you!” she screeches.
“Did he?” I ask. “Are you sure of that, or does it just make you feel better to tell yourself you know what happened?” I don’t understand why, but now that this piece of “truth” that’s been delivered to me daily has been exposed as a theory, I want to defend Colton. “Didn’t you tell me repeatedly that Colton had a drug problem? What if someone from that part of his life broke in to take his stash or whatever? Maybe I got in their way or tried to stop them.” I look at the detective. “Did you find any drugs when you searched my house?”
He shakes his head. “We didn’t.”
“So someone could’ve broken in that night for drugs?”
“We’ve explored that possibility, yes.”
Mom opens her mouth to protest then snaps it shut.
“Your friends from Jackson Harbor sent you mail?” the detective asks me.
I nod. “When I saw Levi yesterday, he gave me an invitation to Ava McKinley’s wedding, and there was a note inside from a friend—someone named Nic. She said she’d mailed a card.”
The detective looks at my mom. “I’d like to see any letters or cards that have been sent here. Not just from Jackson Harbor. Anything addressed to Ellie.”
“I threw it out.” She glares at me, as if daring me to add this to my list of grievances. “I’m her mother, and if I can protect her from him and those people in the life who almost got her killed, I’m going to do it.”
“But what if those people are my friends?” I whisper. “And what if Colton’s innocent and I don’t need protecting from him?”
Mom shakes her head, her face stony. If she were judge and jury, Colton would already be convicted. Her mind’s made up. Whereas I . . .
I close my eyes and see Colton’s face clearly, but instead of the image of him from a photograph, I see something new. Colton sitting on the floor, his head cradled in his hands.
“I’m not good, Ellie. Not at all. But you make me want to be.”
I’m focusing so hard on the fuzzy edges of the memory, trying to find more. Colton’s deep voice. The agony in his eyes when he lifts his head. What happens next?
“Ellie?”
I open my eyes and blink at him. “I’m sorry?”
“I asked you to call me right away if you remember anything. Big or small. Even if it doesn’t seem related.”
I nod, but my promise is already a lie. What I remember, I can’t tell Detective Huxley.
If I want to protect myself, I can’t tell anyone.
Ellie
February 20th
Two and a half years ago . . .
Colton McKinley shuts the door behind us and stalks toward me like he wants to devour me. I love it so much when he looks at me like that. It’s hard to remember I was angry with him for being late to the fundraiser tonight.
My apartment isn’t big, but with Colton filling the space, it feels more like a child’s playhouse than a grown woman’s home. Regardless, I love him here. I love the way he takes up too much room and makes this lonely new life feel full. I love that when I’m with him I can forget my troubles at home and find a reprieve from worrying about my mom, sister, and niece. They always need help, but since I’ve moved to Jackson Harbor, I’ve had less to offer—a fact that leaves me riddled with guilt.
“I really wanted you to introduce me to your dad tonight,” I say, my tone flirting with the edge between disappointed and pouting.
“I didn’t need to. I talked to him already,” he says. “He called your references, and I think he’s going to give you the job.”
I gasp. “Are you serious? Oh my God, Colton, that’s amazing.”
He grunts. “No job working for my asshole father could accurately be described as amazing, but I’m glad it makes you happy.”
“It is amazing. Do you know what a rare opportunity this is?” I bounce on my toes, and my eyes burn with hot tears. When he didn’t show up at the party, I thought he’d let me down. “I owe you everything.”
“It’s my father. He wouldn’t hire you if he didn’t believe he was getting the better end of the deal.”
“Still. Managing an art gallery?” I squeak. I’m practically floating, I’m so excited.
“Now aren’t you glad you’re with me and not Levi?” He stalks toward me.
I shrug as I think of the sexy stranger I met tonight. I don’t like thinking about how close I was to doing something that might have ruined everything with Colton. It’s new and I like it, but I’m insecure enough that I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling the same.
“So do you like my friend?” The smirk on his face tells me he’s not too worried about it.
“I like guys who don’t stand me up.”