His word choice sends me spiraling. My heart begins to race, and spots dance at the edges of my vision. “Where were you last night?” He would only be asking that if something happened, right? Determining whether or not I had an alibi. What if— I charge forward. “What happened? Where is Emma?”
Gibson glares at Tucker.
“We don’t know,” Bradyn answers.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I demand, hands clenching into fists.
“Breathe, Dylan.”
“I’m breathing fine!” I yell at Tucker. “What I want to know is what happened to Emma?”
“Talia Matthews called me late last night. Emma never showed up for her birthday dinner at the diner, so she and Connor went to check on her. They found her door unlocked, a full mug of tea on her coffee table alongside a box of mementos surrounding your relationship, and broken glass in the kitchen, but she was gone.”
“Gone.” The air is sucked from my lungs.
“Yes. And because of your very public fight yesterday, I need to ask the right questions. I know you wouldn’t hurt her, but?—”
“It’s your job,” I reply, my tone going flat. Keep your head. It’s a mission like any other. Find her.
I have to find her.
Find her. And make whoever took her pay.
“As I said, I was here. Had dinner with my parents, then went home.”
“What time was that?”
“Ten,” I reply.
“So you were with your parents until ten.”
“Yes.”
“Talia and Conner discovered she was missing about seven thirty.” Gibson slips his notebook back into his pocket. “Which means you couldn’t have done it.”
“Of course he couldn’t have done it,” Bradyn growls. “We told you that.”
“Yes, but now that I have confirmation, I can officially ask for your help in tracking her down. I don’t have the manpower for an all-out search.”
“Is it possible she left for a walk?”
“No,” I tell Tucker. “Emma doesn’t like to be out at night. She wouldn’t have gone for a walk. Why did no one come here last night? Why wait until this morning? That’s a massive head start you gave to whoever took her.”
“We checked the woods behind her house, the library, everywhere she could have gone. I checked with neighbors, and we were searching her house until nearly two in the morning. Then, we spent the rest of the time scouring all security cameras in town to see if we could see anything.”
I withdraw my cell and toss it to Tucker. “The last picture I took is of the man who wanted to talk to her in the diner. It’s distant, but you should be able to run him.”
“On it.”
“Let me know when you have a name,” Gibson says. “And send me that picture.”
“Will do.” Tucker jogs off in the direction of his house, which is less than a mile from mine.
“That man was in the diner with her. Did he give Talia a name?” I ask.
“She didn’t get a name,” Gibson says. “There’s more to it too. Another reason why I don’t think I can call her a true missing person yet.” Gibson removes his hat and runs his hand through his hair.
“What is it?” I demand.
