now. To a bristly and pseudo-loud CALL ME NOW. To a snarly god damn you stupid fuck. Call me. Sarah’s missing.
He froze, staring at the last script. Sarah was missing?
His adrenaline spiked. He dampened it down. Missing could mean anything. Had she lost her nerve and skipped out on her wedding? As he stared at the screen in his hand, the damn thing went off again. Tram’s number.
He swiped the call button. “She skipped out?”
“About damn time you answered,” Tram snarled.
Tag scowled. “Fuck you. Did she skip out on her wedding?”
She’d postponed it twice before. Maybe she’d postponed it again. He ignored the rush of relief that lightened his chest.
“No. She showed up with some tall, brown-haired gal as her bridesmaid. They were escorted to the bridal suite, according to the wedding director. That’s the last anyone saw of them.”
From Tram’s description, the bridesmaid sounded like Sarah’s best friend, Langley. He’d seen pictures of the two women together.
Both Sarah and Langley were missing? What the hell? He frowned, unease stirring. If Sarah had gotten cold feet and fled, wouldn’t the bridesmaid hang around to explain the situation to the guests?
“What does Mitch say?”
“He isn’t saying anything, because he isn’t answering his fucking cell. That shit seems to be going around today,” Tram growled, the dig pointed.
Tag shrugged. Technically, Tram had texted, not called. Besides, he was talking to him now, wasn’t he? But the unease burrowed in deeper.
“Did Mitch show up for the wedding?”
Had Mitch jilted her? Jesus, that would sting. In the long run, Mitch’s abandonment would be for the best, but in the here and now, hell—Sarah would find it mortifying and painful.
“For like a second. Long enough for some back pounding and then he split too.”
If Mitch had showed up, then he hadn’t jilted her. Maybe Sarah had jilted him? Tag shook his head and stared at the stream of sweat hitting the pavement. Absently, he took another swipe at his wet face with the bottom of his shirt.
“Was the wedding called off? Or did they actually disappear?”
“They disappeared. We waited for half an hour before Aiden tracked down the facility director.”
Sarah hadn’t informed her guests that the wedding was canceled? She’d just let them sit there?
The knot of unease unfurled, swelling. That didn’t sound like Sarah at all. Of course, his Sarah would never have agreed to marry Mitch after finding out he’d been fucking around on her. Hell—who knew what this new Sarah was capable of.
“Where are you? I’ll swing by and pick you up,” Tram said.
Tag hesitated. She’d made it clear as fuck that she wanted off his friends list. This wasn’t his business. But…he flashed back to that weird sense he’d had after turning away from her door, like she was in trouble, or something was wrong.
The ember of unease broke open, spreading out like a flame.
“Tag?”
Damn it. You didn’t turn your back on friends, even those who’d ripped out your guts and hung them up for the vultures. That had been the whole point of his fruitless trip to see her the day before.
“Hang on.” He looked up, focusing. “Corner of Evers and Beaver.” Or at least he’d be there by the time Tram arrived.
“Be there in five.”
He called Sarah while he walked to the corner. What the hell did it say about him that he still remembered her number after two long years? The phone rang and rang, before going to voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message, waited ten seconds and tried again. Still no answer. Tram’s Jeep Renegade pulled alongside while his fourth attempt at contact was still ringing.
Ending the call, he climbed into the Jeep’s passenger seat. Tram was in his wedding attire. Crisp black slacks, white button-down dress shirt, longish, darkish blazer. No tie, but—Tag checked out his shoes—hell, he even had on dress shoes.
“Emma pick that shit out for you?” Tag asked.
Emma, Tram’s fiancée, had taste, unlike his chauffeur. Also, unlike his best friend in the whole fucking world, Emma—bless her—had refused to attend the wedding as a show of support for Tag.
Beyond a furrow of his brow, Tram ignored the dig.
“You think we need to be concerned?” Tram asked, with the Jeep still idling by the curb.
Tag scowled, shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
If the Sarah of two years ago had gone AWOL on her wedding day, yeah—that would be worth worrying over. But the Sarah from two days ago? He shook his head again. He didn’t know that woman at all.