When Darkness Ends (Moments in Boston #3) - Marni Mann Page 0,74

Pearl’s either.

“Give me one second,” I said, and I went into the kitchen, checking the answering machine.

There weren’t any messages, the light a solid red.

My heart started to race as I returned to Gran’s bedroom, sitting in the same place as before. “I’m a little worried, Gran. She was supposed to be back yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” she gasped, telling me she’d most definitely lost track of time since her fall. “That’s not like my dollface. She’s always late but not by this much.”

I racked my brain, trying to come up with where she could be.

But none of this made sense.

Pearl was one of the most considerate, protective people I knew, especially when it came to her grandmother. If she was going to spend an extra night in New York, she certainly would have left a message to tell Gran, and she probably would have called me and asked me to go check on her.

Assuming they didn’t have long distance on their phone, I took out my wallet, finding my calling card, and said, “I’m going to try the hotel in New York and see if she’s still there.”

She nodded, urging me on, and I returned to the kitchen, first calling information to get the hotel’s number and then the direct line to their Midtown location.

Once the front desk answered, I said, “Hi. I’m hoping you can help me. My girlfriend checked in late Friday morning. The room would be under Pearl Daniels. Can you tell me if she extended her stay?”

“Sure, just give me one moment,” the clerk said, the sound of typing filling the background. “Our records show Ms. Daniels never checked in.”

My hands started to shake. “What do you mean?”

“The reservation shows Ms. Daniels was scheduled to arrive Friday and depart on Monday, but she never checked in. Our no-show policy states that a one-night payment is still required, so that was charged to the Visa that was used to book the room.”

That was my credit card. I was the one who had called to get us the room, never bothering to change the payment when I’d gone to Maine instead.

What the fuck is going on?

My hand went into my hair, pulling at the roots. “So, you’re saying Pearl was never there?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what our records show.”

“Could she have checked in under a separate reservation?”

“One moment. I’ll check.”

I stretched the phone cord, walking to the stove and to the fridge and the front door, circling the small space again.

“I’m sorry, sir. There were no other reservations made by that name. I tried several different spellings, and nothing came up.”

“Thank you,” I said and hung up, hurrying into Gran’s room.

I knelt on the floor right next to her bed, so she could hear me.

“Is everything all right, honey? Were you able to get in touch with Pearl?”

I didn’t want to alarm her, so I kept my voice calm and asked, “Did Pearl leave you the number to where she was staying?”

“It’s on a piece of paper on the table out there.”

Before she could say another word, I went into the living room, lifting the small note into my hands. Pearl’s writing covered the whole sheet, where she’d jotted down the same hotel I’d booked for us and the phone number I had just called.

My stomach was in my fucking throat as I moved back over to Gran’s bed. I rubbed my sweaty hands over my shorts, trying to breathe. “I don’t know how to tell you this …” My chest pounded every time I inhaled. “But Pearl never checked into the hotel in New York.”

The lines in her brow deepened. “Where is she, then?”

I shook my head, the worry now eating its way into my arms and legs, my entire body feeling weak. “I don’t know.”

Fifty-Three

After

Ashe

Most of my days were a blur, each one marked by a number that signified how many had passed since Dylan’s death. I no longer called them Monday, Tuesday, or even Wednesday. They were day six, twelve, eighteen. Somewhere in there was his funeral, and I immediately went to Dylan’s parents’ house after the service.

It felt impossible to be there without him.

A strange silence that he would have always filled.

I held his mother while she broke down in my arms. As soon as Alix saw her crying, she was next. I couldn’t get her to stop. I couldn’t even get her to the bathroom in time before she vomited all over my suit jacket. Once she emptied her stomach, the panic attack set in. She