Trouble: Rob & Sabrina: Boxed Set

by Selena Kitt

“She didn’t sound good.” I shook my head. That was an understatement. She didn’t even sound like Katie. “She didn’t sound good at all.”

  “She got pretty into it.”

  “Into what?” I looked up sharply. “Tyler?”

  “Him—and everything Tyler was into.”

  He let that sink in and when it did, that numbness in my limbs turned to ice.

  “Katie was doing drugs? Oh my God, Katie was doing heroin…” I whispered the words, knowing it was true. It made perfect sense, in the upside-down world of rock and roll tours. “Rob, you said you’d look out for her!”

  “I tried.” He held his hands up as if I might attack him and for a minute, I considered it.

  “I can’t believe this,” I whispered, picking up my phone off the bed and dialing her number. I went straight to voice mail again. “I have to go back. She needs me.”

  “I need you.” Rob grabbed my hand when I went to get up, my mind already racing ahead of itself, thinking about calling the airline and changing my flight.

  “Rob, she’s my best friend.” I felt tears stinging my eyes, thinking of Katie in trouble. “I have to do something.”

  “She’s going to be okay.”

  “How do you know that?” I snapped

  “I’m taking care of it.”

  “How?” I crossed my arms, glaring at hm.

  “Look, I can’t force her into rehab. I’m doing what I can.”

  “What can you do from here?” I waved my arms at the canopy over our heads, the door that opened out onto a view of the ocean and an infinity pool. “You can’t wave a magic wand.”

  “No.” He sighed. “But I did have someone fly back with her, to make sure she made the transition from life on the road.”

  “Is that the euphemism for detox?” I could barely see straight. The ice water in my veins was turning into hot blooded anger. “This isn’t pot or crack or even meth. This is heroin we’re talking about. Who did you send with her?”

  I remembered that gruff voice in the background while I was talking to Katie on the phone. Was that her supposed “protector?” Her “transition management specialist?”

  “A friend.” Rob’s jaw worked, tightened, released. He did that when he was angry, but he wasn’t anywhere near approaching how furious I was. “She’s done this before. She can usually get them into treatment.”

  “How many times?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I could hardly get the words out. My hands were shaking, and I clenched them into fists. “How many girls has Tyler done this to?”

  “I don’t know.” Rob didn’t meet my eyes.

  “Too many to count?”

  “Yeah,” he said finally, lifting his gaze to meet mine. His expression was pained. I didn’t know if I wanted to hit him or hug him.

  “So, call your friend,” I insisted. “It was your phone that rang. Was that her? Is she with Katie now?”

  “I don’t know.” Rob grabbed his phone off the night stand, scrolling through. “It wasn’t her. Sarah texted me early this morning to tell me…”

  “Tell you what?” I prompted, arms crossed.

  “She lost Katie last night.” Rob put his phone back on the night stand.

  “Lost her?”

  “Katie left in the middle of the night,” he said. “Sarah hasn’t been able to find her since.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this?” I whispered. That was the thing my mind kept circling back to.

  “I was hoping she’d be found and I wouldn’t have to,” he admitted. “Sarah said Katie was getting close to breaking down and going into rehab before she took off.”

  “You knew. This whole time. For months.” My mind, circling back and back. Rob had lied to me. “You let her do it.”

  “Sabrina, she’s an adult,” he reminded me. “She made her own choices.”

  “But you knew about Tyler!” I cried. “You knew what was going to happen.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Rob reached for my hand, but I yanked it away from him. “Tyler got clean before this tour. He was clean when we were in Detroit. I don’t know when he started using again. But you have to understand, it’s not a monkey he’s got on his back, it’s a fucking five-hundred-pound gorilla and it just keeps coming back...”

  “But you didn’t tell me!” That was the thing. I couldn’t get past that. “You kept it from me.”

  “Sabrina.” He slid closer, putting his arms around me. I tried to move away but he held fast. “I didn’t know until the tour was almost over. I swear it.”

  “But when you did know, you still didn’t tell me, Rob.” I lifted my face to meet his eyes, feeling tears threatening, and not just about Katie anymore. “How can I trust anything you say?”

  “Fuck, I hate this.” Rob closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I know I should have told you and I would have told you if Katie hadn’t called. I just… I wanted to tell you she was safe and okay and being taken care of.”

  “But she isn’t, Rob.” Now the tears weren’t just threatening. I was far too emotional to deal with this. I felt nauseous and it didn’t have anything to do with being pregnant. “She isn’t safe or okay and she’s definitely not being taken care of.”

  “I’m doing the best I can,” he pleaded, trying to hold me as I struggled out of his arms.

  “Letting Katie get wasted with your drug addicted friend? That’s your best?” I whirled away from him, standing and shaking him off as he followed.

  “It wasn’t like that…”

  “Sounds like that was exactly the way it was.” I snapped, stalking over to my carry-on bag. “I need to pack.”

  “Sabrina, no.” Rob watched, standing by helplessly as I started throwing clothes back into my suitcase. “Don’t do this. Stay until Monday. Then we’ll both go back.”

  “What?” I stopped, a pair of jeans in my hand.

  “If you’re not staying here, I’m coming with you.” His eyes were dark, determined, and I knew he meant it. He was coming, whether I wanted him to or not.

  “Because you’ve been such a help so far,” I whispered under my breath, shoving my jeans into the bag.

  “Sabrina.” There was a catch in his voice and it broke me. Whatever was going on, he was hurting too. Tyler was his friend, his band mate. And if what he was telling me was true, he really hadn’t known what was going on. And when he knew, he tried to do something. He just hadn’t told me about it. And I knew he was just trying to protect me, but I wasn’t a child. I was carrying a child, for Pete’s sake!

  “You want to come with me?” I reached out and took his hand, seeing relief flood his face.

  “I want to be with you.” He gently pulled me closer, into the circle of his arms.

  “I want to be with you too.” I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to his chest, hearing the steady thrum of his heart. “But I don’t know if I want all… this.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He squeezed me gently, kissing the top of my head. “It’ll be okay. I promise, I’ll make it okay.”

  He was still trying to protect me, and I nodded, pretending he could, even while I knew there were no guarantees. We both had no idea if he could keep that promise.

  Chapter Six

  “Oh my God, Rob. That’s me.”

  I didn’t even know what rag it was—some Inquirer type paper—but there we were on the front page, Rob swinging me around in my bikini, my suit riding up my ass, my cleavage embarrassingly exposed. The headline read, “Trouble in Paradise?” and beside the picture of us was another of Catherine dressed up to walk down the red carpet, looking very tall and thin and so beautiful it hurt my eyes.

  “Damn it.” Rob shocked the newsstand guy selling papers and magazines by the baggage carousel. He grabbed all the papers out of the rack, slapped a bunch of money down on the counter and threw them all into the trash on our way out the door.

  “I think there’s more where that came from,” I said wryly.

  “Jesus Christ, is i
t snowing?” Rob peered up at the gray Detroit sky. “It’s April!”

  “Welcome to Michigan.” I laughed as he stalked across the crosswalk, like he knew where we were going. I was parked in airport parking and dug through my purse, looking for my ticket.

  “I’m gonna hear about this,” Rob muttered as I unlocked my Kia and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Do you mean Catherine?” I asked as he got in beside me and I started the car.

  He just pursed his lips and nodded. Of course, she would see the paper. Of course, she would say something. I was just grateful that California was a no-fault divorce state and she couldn’t use it against him, at least not in court. The unwelcome news about a no-fault divorce, as Rob pointed out, was that she was entitled to half of everything. I couldn’t even conceptualize exactly how much money that was, but Rob kept saying he didn’t care how much it was, as long as it meant he could be with me.

  “Hey, no talking and driving.” Rob held his hand out for my phone as I dialed Katie’s number.

  “There’s no law against it in Michigan.” I rolled my eyes. California had a lot of restrictions, I’d noticed.

  “Have you never heard of Bluetooth?”

  “Are you kidding me?” I laughed. “This car was made before the millennium.”

  Katie didn’t pick up. She didn’t pick up yesterday either—Easter Sunday. I even called both her parents—her Dad in California and her Mom, who lived in northern Michigan—but they said they hadn’t heard from her, even though she was expected at her mom’s, along with her brother, who was visiting with his new wife and baby from the East coast, for Easter dinner.

  Katie didn’t show

  Rob’s friend, Sarah, said she hadn’t been able to find her. She’d even put a GPS tracker on Katie’s car—a creepy sort of move that I was kind of grateful for—but the car had been left in a parking garage at Wayne State University. She could be anywhere, with anyone. We were supposed to meet Sarah at my place, but I was planning on taking a detour.

  I left another message on Katie’s phone, imagining her deleting them without listening.

  “Katie, it’s me. Pick up. I’m home. I’m coming over. You better pick up.”

  “She’s not going to answer.”

  “How do you know?”

  He just gave me a look.

  I drove by Katie’s place because it was on the way home from the airport. And because she wasn’t answering her phone. And because I had a bad, bad feeling. Rob came with me up to the door, waiting while I rang the buzzer. Her apartment was on the ground floor and I could see in her window—the blinds were open—but I didn’t see her. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number again, but it just went to message.

  “She’s not here.” I sighed, leaning my forehead against the door. Of course, it was a long shot, but I thought we might catch her slipping home for some clothes or food or maybe more money. Her dad said she’d borrowed a thousand dollars from him mid-week for rent.

  Yeah, if “rent” meant a jab of smack.

  The thought of Katie doing heroin was making me nauseous. That and the fact I hadn’t been able to eat anything all day except Daisy’s ginger drink this morning. The nausea wasn’t the baby, I realized.

  “We’ll find her.” Rob put a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you home and in a warm bath for a while.”

  “I don’t want a bath. I want to—” My head came up fast, eyes wide. Oh my God! I could find her! I scanned the apps on my phone, looking for the one I needed. “I can find her, Rob! I know how to find her.”

  He watched me open the app and click Katie’s name. When I’d installed it, it had been a joke—I’d told her I was going to track Rob around the country with it. We’d played around with it for a while and had connected her phone to mine to test it, just to see if it worked, but I’d never really checked it afterward.

  Until now.

  “Come on, come on,” I whispered, waiting while the GPS located her. “Where are you?”

  “Sabrina?” Rob looked over my shoulder, waiting. “Where is she?”

  “Downtown.” I looked back at him, my heart sinking.

  “Downtown Detroit?”

  I nodded. “We have to go, Rob. We have to go get her.”

  He grabbed my phone, scanning the map. “I have a feeling that’s not a very good neighborhood.”

  “I know.” I consoled myself that it was the middle of the afternoon on a Monday. I worked in Detroit, after all. I knew my way in and out—and my dad had been a Detroit cop. I knew where the good and not-so-good places were. And Katie was in a very, very not-so-good place right now, in so many ways.

  “We have to go,” I urged, snagging my phone and shoving it into my jeans pocket.

  “Let me go.” He grabbed my arm, holding onto me as I tried to continue down the sidewalk to the car. “I’ll call Sarah. We’ll go get Katie.”

  “No.” I glared at him. “She won’t listen to you.”

  “How do you know she’ll listen to you?”

  “Because she answered the phone when I called.” It had only been once, but I’d gotten through. She’d picked it up and had talked to me, even in the middle of whatever fugue state she’d been in.

  “All right,” Rob relented, following me to the car. He stopped, looking at me over the hood as he dialed his phone. “Let me call Sarah. She’s carrying a gun.”

  A gun. A little shiver ran through me, but I knew it was right. It wasn’t smart to go where we were going without some sort of protection. My dad had been a Detroit detective for years and, back when there was a residency requirement, we lived on Cop Row—a city block full of cops everyone knew not to mess with them—and it was safe enough to hang out and play with my friends and ride my bike.

  But there were boundaries I was never, ever allowed to cross, because Detroit had safe places and dangerous places, and I had lived my whole life with a man who wore a badge and carried a gun and knew just how dangerous those places could be. That’s why, when I’d decided to take a job teaching in the Detroit district, my father had purchased me a 9mm Glock 26 and told me to put it in my car. I wasn’t allowed to carry it in school, of course, but it was loaded and in my glove compartment.

  “Damn it, she’s not answering.” Rob scowled at his phone.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I opened the driver’s side door and got in. Rob got in the passenger’s side. “Open the glove compartment.”

  Rob frowned but he did it, his eyebrows raising when he saw my gun tucked into its slot. My father had made sure it was secure, putting a special holder in. Rob pulled it out, checking the chamber and then pulling out the holster.

  “You have a license for this?”

  “I’m a cop’s daughter,” I reminded him. “I’ve had a conceal carry license since I was twenty-one.”

  “I should have known.” He holstered the gun, grinning over at me. “I’m impressed. A girl who can handle a gun is kind of hot.”

  “You obviously know your way around guns.” I glanced over as he untucked his t-shirt, so it hid the bulge. “Do you have a license to carry?”

  “Yeah. Not that it matters. There’s no reciprocity between California and Michigan.” He closed the glove compartment. “But if I have to use it, I will.”

  “Jesus, Rob,” I whispered. I had butterflies in my stomach. Yes, I knew how to handle a gun, yes, I kept one in my car just in case, but I had never, ever had to use it. “This is…”

  “I know. Just get us there.” He put his phone to his ear, waiting. “Sarah? Hey. We found Katie… We’re on our way now. I want you to stay at Sabrina’s. There’s a key hidden in one of those fake rock things next to the porch.”

  He waited, rolling his eyes, presumably while Sarah talked.

  “Just do it. I’ll call you when we have her.”

  I gave Rob my phone and asked him to navigate. The app didn’t give us an exact address, just a pulsing blue dot on Palmer Street. That was where Katie was—or at lea
st, that’s where her phone was. I knew my way around Detroit well enough to follow Rob’s directions. I knew Palmer Street too. My mom had taught history at Wayne State for years and Palmer was a sort of back way to get to I-94. I’d gone this way hundreds of times while I was getting my teaching degree. It was an easy shortcut.

  But I’d never really paid as close attention to it as I was now.

  Much of it was just vacant lots, lots of brush. Some of the houses were lived in, gated, even nice. Detroit was such a strange mix of old, beautiful homes and empty ghost houses.

  “Slow down.” Rob watched the phone, pointing at the stop sign. “It should be in this next block.”

  I rolled slowly through the intersection, past an old hardware store with no windows, a gate on the door. It was tagged with graffiti and had fire damage, the roof blackened and caving in. Please don’t let it be here, I thought, glancing over at Rob.

  “Up on the left.” He pointed, and I drove past a huge pile of old tires on the right side of the road, thrown aside like rubber donuts, stopping in front of a vacant home, the windows empty, dark eyes.

  “Here?” There was an old white and tan Dodge Caravan parked alongside the house, indicating it might not be as unoccupied as it appeared.

  “Stay here.” Rob checked the gun in its holster, opening the passenger door.

  Stay here? Was he kidding? Katie was in there somewhere. I wasn’t staying in the damned car. I shoved the driver’s side door open and followed him, ignoring the glare he gave me as he went up the steps.

  We didn’t knock. The door was falling off its hinges and practically open anyway. Rob’s hand stayed on the butt of the gun as we moved through the living room, littered with trash—beer cans, fast food wrappers, and old needles—all scattered around an old, stained twin mattress. But there was no one there.

  “Katie!” I called, ignoring Rob’s look of warning over his shoulder.

  I heard something over our heads and glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Wait!” Rob called but I was already heading for the staircase. There was a hole straight down through the middle of them and I stepped around it, looking down as I passed, straight into the darkness of a basement or crawl space under the house.