Touch And Go - Aiden Bates Page 0,48
take it. It could have the answers I need.”
Derek smiled. “I sure hope so.”
I poked around the debris for a few minutes while the last strains of panic settled down, but found nothing else of interest. I prayed that the laptop would have something on it that would lead me toward Ben, wherever he was.
Back in the car, I tried to boot it up, but it wasn’t looking good.
“We should do a thorough sweep of Sebastian’s apartment.” Sean slid into the backseat from where he’d been keeping lookout in the parking lot. “Maybe your thugs left something behind telling us where we can find them.”
“A calling card?” I watched crime TV. I knew the lingo.
Sean nodded and smiled. “Something like that.”
Derek nodded to him in the rearview mirror. “Good idea.”
“Terrible idea.” The last thing I wanted was to face that mess again, especially with Derek. What would he think about the poky little apartment I lived in? Shabby furniture. Bare walls. Nary a scent of candle. It was embarrassing as hell.
“We need clues. And you need clothes.” Matt spoke gruffly, but at least he spoke directly to me. And he had a point. My own clothes would be nice.
“Maybe being home will jog your memory about what happened before you ended up in the Potomac.” Derek spoke softly enough I could ignore it or acknowledge. I gave a slight nod then focused on reassembling the computer to keep my mind off the anxiety trickling behind my breastbone.
“Any luck?” Sean leaned over the seat, his breath on my shoulder.
I looked at the laptop, lost cause it was. But maybe I could salvage the files. “Nah, I think the hardware must be busted.”
“Hm. Can we take a look?”
I glanced at him, and while he wasn’t anywhere close to cracking a smile, his voice was calm. It was the nicest he’d been to me, so I passed him the laptop.
“Be my guest.”
“Thanks.” A barely there upward twitch of his lips felt like a grand gesture, and I wondered if he was feeling sorry for me. Pathetic score ticked up a notch.
And then I opened the door to my tiny, shitty apartment with the three of them behind me, and the meter shot off the chart. The place was crummier than I remembered. Smaller, too. Now that I knew what a good life looked like, going back would feel all the worse. Not to mention losing Dr. Dish. His support. His friendship. The kisses. I could’ve cried.
“Where should we look?”
Derek’s voice made me jump, and I shook my head. I didn’t know and I sure as hell didn’t want him to see the extent of the place, unless there was a chance he’d believe the intruders had stolen all the food from my fridge and cabinets, had taken the fluffy towels and bed linens and left me threadbare shreds of fabric in their place, had taken my bedframe and left the mattress on the floor. I didn’t want him nosing around.
“Uh, just look through this room, I’ll check the bedroom.” God. I wanted to shrivel into a ball and hide.
But if he noticed, he didn’t mention. Instead, he nodded. “Sure thing.”
Smashed mirror glass crunched under my boots when I stepped into what had been my bedroom. The closet door hung by one hinge, and I shouldered it shut so I could squeeze past and stuff a bag full of the clothes that had been dumped onto the floor. I flung it onto my back then shoved my shaking hands deep into my pockets as I bit back the stupid, weird emotion welling up in my throat. It wasn’t as viscerally satisfying as anger, not quite as devastating as sadness. This was loneliness. This place had once been my sanctuary but was now a dump.
A gentle knock on the doorframe jolted me, and I held a hand to my heart in shock. “Fuck.”
Derek grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Anything missing in here?”
“Not that I can tell.” I swept my hand across the room as though presenting the slashed mattress, broken blinds, and smashed lamp as a prize combo on a gameshow.
Derek took it in without expression, and then slumped against the doorframe, as though the devastation hit him as hard as it hit me. “This sucks.”
“Whatever, right? Shit happens.” With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I made fists so tight my nails bit into my palms, and my sprained wrist burned with pain.
He stared at me with that same gentle look