a pause. “I don’t see a Robert Davidson in our registration. Could it be under a different name?”
It could be under any other name. He’s probably not even there.
But if I don’t go and something happens to him, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
“Thank you.” I hang up and just stare at the phone before going back to the computer and searching airfares to Chicago. I find a flight from Tampa at six with one seat left. I book it and close down the computer, then call the school office and leave a message that I’m going to be out for the rest of the week.
Dad will be harder.
I sweep into the house, thanking God that he’s not home yet, and head straight to my room. I grab a few clean pairs of underwear, some jeans, and a few tops and shove everything into a bag. When I come out, I tear a slip of paper off the pad near the phone and start on a note. I know it’s a cop-out, I should go by the station and tell him what I’m doing, but I don’t have the time or energy to get into it with him right now. It’s hard enough that my heart feels like it’s been raked over a hot bed of coals and buried in the backyard after what happened with Rob. I cried most of the weekend, missing Mom more than I have in a while. I need her strong shoulder right now. Minus that, I need my dad.
But things between us have been totally awkward since he found me at Rob’s two days ago. It feels like the first months after Mom died.
After her funeral, it took me a few weeks to tie up everything and move home for good. Daddy was wrecked. He took an extended leave from the department, leaving Sergeant Dixon in charge, and he only came out of his room for an occasional meal and shower. He kept his eyes down and wouldn’t look at me most of the time, but when he did, the pain in his gaze was almost palpable. It took me a while to figure out how hard it was on him that I look just like Mom.
All day yesterday, his eyes followed me everywhere, as if he was hoping that my actions would somehow answer the questions he’s afraid to ask, but he never looked at me. He’s totally ashamed.
So I lie.
I tell him I’m staying at Chuck’s because I need some space to think.
I race to my car and drive toward the airport as fast as I dare, dialing Chuck when I hit the highway.
“I need a favor,” I say when he picks up.
“Name it,” he shoots.
“If Dad calls, I need to you to tell him I’m there, but I’m sleeping.”
“What’s going on, Ade?” he asks, his tone all brotherly concern.
I blow out a breath and it bellows in my ear through the phone. “I just really need you to do this for me. Please.”
“Is it something to do with Batman? Because if he’s messing with you, I’ll be messing with him.”
“It’s . . . I just need to go away for a few days.”
There’s a long pause. “Name something else, Ade, because I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”
Desperation gets a chokehold on me and I can barely speak. “Please, Chuck.”
“He hasn’t hurt you?”
The menace in his voice doesn’t surprise me, but it squeezes tears into my eyes. Because he has. What he said on Saturday cut deeper than I ever could have imagined, but if I tell Chuck that, all bets are off. “No.”
“Where are you going?” he asks warily.
“Chuck . . .” The tight lump in my throat makes the plea thick.
“You know I’ll do anything for you, but if there’s something wrong, I need you to tell me.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just need a few days. Promise me, Chuck. If Dad calls, promise me you’ll cover for me.”
I can almost hear him thinking through the airwaves. I’ve never asked him for anything like this before.
“Okay,” he finally says, “but if I find out later that he’s done something that’s hurt you or put you in danger, he’ll wish he was never born.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
I make it to Tampa with a few minutes to spare and head into the terminal. An hour later, I’m in the air on my way to save the love of my life, even if he doesn’t want me to.