Chasing Him - Kat T. Masen Page 0,85

spiraling into a depression similar to losing Elijah, and suddenly, I found myself desperately trying to avoid this at all costs, even if it means that I need to show remorse over the whole sorry episode.

That scum I keep referring to—I was no different, and it was Andy’s cries for Julian that was a wake-up call if ever I needed one. It killed me to admit that watching Julian with Andy was what hurt the most. He replaced me. I was no longer the man he asked for, and his face stopped lighting up every time I walked into the room. He may have been just a kid and totally unaware his actions could cut so deep, but nevertheless, my hate for Julian grew to an entirely different level.

I was glad to see the back of him, and making sure Andy and I repaired our relationship was my top priority. What I didn’t expect, what no parent ever expects, is to be living this fucking nightmare.

Andy has been taken.

The police are a bunch of fucking idiots, spitting out their bullshit to file a report. I’m furious, yelling at the useless fucks for not helping us find my nephew quicker. Adriana is inconsolable, her body limp as Julian holds onto her. His feeble attempts to calm her down are fruitless as she begins to hyperventilate, vomiting all over the floor.

Charlotte rushes to her side, having just arrived as both of them attend to her aid.

This is all his fucking fault.

I cannot reason.

I cannot think straight.

My Andy is missing.

Charlotte is surrounded by paper towels and a bucket, panicked and in tears. She passes a wet towel to Julian, and taking it, he gently wipes her face. Adriana is pale, ghostly white, her eyes dull and lacking any emotion.

Charlotte stands up and walks over, pulling me aside for more information.

“We don’t know who this man is,” I mutter.

“Can we see the video again? Maybe I might know him?”

I nod, anything to find out who this fucking low-life is who took Andy. We head back into the office and rewind the footage.

Julian enters the room and watches in silence. “I’ve seen him before.”

I turn abruptly to face Julian. Talk, fucker! I glare at him waiting for a response.

“The night that Mary Jean was staying at the house, she went out to meet a friend. It was the same man waiting in the car down the street,” he says anxiously.

“How do you know? It could be anyone?” Charlotte asks in desperation.

“Pause the footage… there,” he commands. I stop the tape. “He has a mole. It’s oval-shaped near his mustache. I recognize it.”

I call Adriana in, questioning her about Mary Jean.

“She never mentioned him, but I remember that night, I transferred five thousand dollars to her.” Her voice is rattled, Charlotte supporting her physically by holding onto her arms. I motion for Charlotte to take her back outside.

Alone with Julian in the room, I think out loud, not expecting a response from the worthless punk. “They couldn’t have gotten far. Mary Jean is behind this, and she’s not smart enough to cover her tracks.”

His voice follows. “Okay, so say they flew out. LAX will have them on file.”

“Or they drove… but which way? Fuck!” I slam my fist against the desk, the jolt knocking a coffee cup down spilling its contents all over the keyboard.

The fucker ignores me, pulling out his cell and making a call. He begins to speak to someone, and I have no idea who. Seconds later, he hangs up, and his face no longer looks calm.

“I have to go find Andy,” he tells me.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“I’m not sitting around waiting for the cops to do shit. I’m gonna find Andy.” He walks past me, and I follow him outside to the hallway. He drops to the floor and cups Adriana’s face. “I’m not coming back without him. I promise you.”

She can barely move her head, and he kisses her lips reassuring her. I turn away. What the fuck is going on here? I pull Charlotte aside and promise I’ll call her as soon as I know what the hell we’re doing. She understands, quickly jumping up and hugging me before I race out of the building to follow him.

“Fucking tell me what you’re doing!” I shout at him.

“I have someone who can help.”

“Well, I’m coming with you,” I demand.

“Fuck off, Edwards. You don’t want to be involved in my shit.”

“If your shit will help us find my nephew, then