Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,71

voice says.

Shit.

I turn to see Stevie standing ten feet away from me.

I shake my head, trying to mouth an apology to her. I’m losing it. I am fucking losing it because I miss Maren.

“Maybe someone snatched it off your porch, sir,” he says into my ear. “Did you ever think of that?”

I peer out the window to look at my stoop again. “I didn’t.”

“If you have surveillance equipment, I suggest you check that before you call back again.”

He hangs up.

I don’t blame him. I was a dick. I admit it.

I shove the phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

“You swore,” Stevie points out. “What’s wrong, Keats?”

Berk wanders into the room. He knows the story. I laid it all out last night for him after Stevie went to bed.

He told me to stop punishing Maren for Amber’s misdeeds.

Then he scolded me for putting so much pressure on myself to land a deal with Fletcher.

I needed the lecture.

It’s been a long time coming.

When you’re cheated on, you question your worth. I know that. I felt it.

I tied mine to my work, so whenever I’d lose a potential client, it hit hard.

That’s what happened when Earl Newman told me I was the wrong man for the job.

He was right.

I am the wrong man.

I’ve taken on too much to prove a point to no one but myself.

My life needs an overhaul beginning with my relationship with Maren.

I’ve tried texting her twice today. My call to her went straight to voicemail, and she hasn’t been at work in two days.

I want to talk to her. Even if she breaks my heart, I need to know what she wants and who she wants.

“Did you find out where the package is, Keats?” Stevie asks.

I drag myself back into this moment in time. My niece is looking for the new sneakers I ordered for her. Who the fuck knew that a kid’s feet could outgrow a pair of shoes in a month?

“He said the package was delivered. I need to check the doorbell camera footage to see if someone took it.”

Stevie gasps as she clings to Budley. “Someone stole my shoes? Call the police, Daddy.”

Berk chuckles. “Let’s try and solve this mystery ourselves first.”

She bounces up and down. “I am a super good detective. I always find your phone when you hide it.”

I nod my head in agreement. “She has a valid point.”

Stevie taps her fingers on my wrist. “Look at the doorbell camera so we can see who the bad guy is.”

My money is on Mrs. Comtors. I caught her red-handed when she tried to lift the flowerpot that used to sit on my stoop.

I carried it the two blocks to her place and warned her to keep her hands off my stuff.

She winked and told me if she were thirty years younger, my stuff would be happy to have her hands on it.

I open the doorbell app and scroll through the dated footage. The delivery information puts the package on my stoop the afternoon that the Newmans were supposed to come for dinner.

I start the video at the time I left to walk to a bodega three blocks from here. I passed that fucking diner where I saw Maren and the blond guy.

I fast forward through it quickly, only picking up shots of people strolling past my townhouse.

I slow it when a white delivery van stops.

Stevie yanks on my forearm. “I want to see it too. Please, Keats.”

I drop to one knee and hold the phone between us. “That’s when the sneakers were delivered.”

She leans closer to the screen. “My shoes. I see the box.”

We watch as a delivery guy rings the bell. He says something, but I don’t have the voice feature activated during recordings, so I read his lips.

“Where are you, Mr. Morgan? Answer the damn door, so I can get something to eat.”

I shake my head.

He takes another deep breath before he drops the box at his feet and leaves.

“He just left them there.” Stevie shrugs. “He didn’t care.”

Berk walks up behind us. “He did his job. It’s not his fault if someone took them.”

I fast forward through the footage again. A few dogs walk by with their owners. I have to stop so Stevie can admire them.

When I spot a flash of red hair in the corner of the frame, my heart stalls in my chest.

“That’s Maren!” Stevie screams. “I see Maren.”

So do I.

I check the timestamp. It’s less than an hour after I saw her at the diner.

I was with