Brandt was sitting in front of his television, snacking on handfuls of popcorn, feeling sorry for himself that his mate still wasn’t home. There was no way he’d let her know how miserable he was though. He wanted her to be able to visit her family whenever she wanted to. So he bore his loneliness in silence.
Then he received Barron’s thoughts and jumped to his feet so fast he spilled popcorn all over the sofa.Who’s not where?he thought back urgently.
Emmalyn! She’s not here. The place is a mess. Remi is tracking something or somebody.
Where are you?!
Hellen’s.
I’m coming.Brandt rushed out of his house and ran all the way to Hellen’s house through the woods, rather than taking the roads. He burst out of the woods at a full run and crossed the large back yard of Hellen’s house only minutes later. He saw the lights on inside and went to the back door, pushing it open but not stepping inside. “Barron!” he shouted.
“Here!” Barron answered.
Brandt entered Hellen’s house, carefully walking through, making note of every single thing he noticed. He was standing just outside the kitchen, taking it all in when he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the house.
“I can’t find her! She’s not here. Her things are in one of the bedrooms. But she’s not there. Where the hell is she?” Barron asked with no small amount of trepidation bleeding through his voice as he walked toward Brandt.
“I don’t know. But we’ll find her,” Brandt assured him.
“I should have fucking broken down the door and forced her to come back to my house.”
“Nobody’s breaking down a door and making her do a damn thing she doesn’t want to do. It’s Emmalyn, remember?”
Barron didn’t reply, just keep glancing from one part of the house to another.
“Did you find anything out of place anywhere else?” Brandt asked.
“No. Just the kitchen and the living room.”
“Come on. Let’s go back in the living room and see if there’s anything we’ve missed. So far what we’ve got here is a broken crock pot, food spilled down the island and all over the floor, and footprints leading back into the living room.”
Barron led the way, taking care not to step on the smudged partial prints.
Brandt leaned over and picked up the spoon, then the bowl that were knocked over near the sofa. He lifted them to his nose and inhaled. “Smells like Emmalyn, and roast.”
Barron picked up the blankets and made to put them back on the edge of the sofa, but a piece of fabric poked out from under it as he pushed it further back onto the sofa. “What’s this?” he asked, lifting the blanket more to get a better look at whatever it was sticking out of the blanket.
He went pale, and his breath left him, making him feel like he’d been punched in the chest. “It’s a pajama top,” he said shakily, lifting it to his face and inhaling deeply. “It smells like Em.”
“Can I see it?” Brandt asked.
Barron handed it to him.
“It’s torn, Barron,” Brandt said, holding up the top.
Barron stalked away through the house shouting her name. “Emmalyn! Em! Where are you?” He yanked open doors, pulledthings out of closets. Tore the linens off beds so he could better see beneath them, and Brandt was right beside him, helping.
When they’d determined once again what they already knew, that she was nowhere to be found, they ended up back in the kitchen.
Barron started opening cabinets and peering inside.
“She can’t fit in a cabinet, Barron.”
“I have to check everywhere!” Barron roared.
“You’re panicking. Stop and take a deep breath. See if you can feel her, connect with her through your bond,” Brandt said. “I’ve been trying. I get nothing. But it’s not like she’s got me blocked. It’s different.”
Barron concentrated and sent out a nudge, hoping like hell he’d get a response of any type from Emmalyn. He didn’t. Instead, he felt… cold. Just cold. “I get nothing. But it’s almost like I feel physically cold when I try.” He walked across the kitchen again, then frustratedly slammed the last cabinet closed. “Fuck!” he screamed. Then his gaze landed on the door leading out to the garage.
