Wyatt studied Devyn over his bourbon neat. “We’re thinking twenty-two hundred a square foot.”
Devyn wanted to spit her drink across the table. Instead she swallowed carefully, then regarded him. “That’s insane.”
“That’s not what your competition is saying. In fact, Tom Morelli thinks it’s doable.”
Devyn leaned forward. “Morelli will tell you whatever he has to in order to snag the listing. If you listen to him, you’ll be shooting yourself in the foot.”
Wyatt glanced at the ceiling, then took a drink.
“I’m a straight shooter, Wyatt, and you know it. Two thousand a square foot, and I’ll sell the thing out with my team.”
“Can’t do it,” Wyatt said. Ricky looked on as if engrossed in a complicated tennis match. “Twenty-one.”
She hesitated, took a hit of her drink, and placed the glass on the table. “Fine. Twenty-one hundred a foot.”
He raised an eyebrow. “In three months.”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “The building is still under construction and won’t show the way it needs to. People can’t fill in the blanks. All they see are hard hats and unfinished kitchens.”
“What do you need from me to make it happen?” Wyatt asked.
“A high-end showroom at the very least, a model, technology, or get me more time.”
“No showroom. Do you know how much that will cost?”
“Do you know how much you’re asking me to accomplish in a short time period? People need to see what they’re laying down money for in order to cough it up. You’re investing over two hundred million dollars in this building. Surely you can take one final step to be sure you get a high return on your investment.” She stared at him good and hard. “Come on. Let’s set a Philly record with this one.”
His eyes lit up at the prospect, and he ran a finger around the rim of his glass as if weighing his many millionaire options. Ricky, who sat to her right clutching his Blue Moon like a handful of pearls, held his breath in anticipation.
Devyn stared at Wyatt, and Wyatt stared back. She waited.
“Fine,” he said, once it felt like all of the air had been sucked from the room. “We’ll get you your showroom and you sell the building out in four months at twenty-one hundred a square foot or I’m pulling the listing.” That would kill not only her ego but her reputation among other developers. She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t.
Devyn sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile, riding the kind of high only an opportunity like this one could inspire. It felt like sitting at the top of the roller coaster, waiting in anticipation for that rush that would blow your hair back and release the endorphins, only to have it hit so much harder than you had even anticipated. So fucking satisfying. “You’re on.”
And that was that.
“You’re amazing. I can’t even believe that happened,” Ricky said, running a hand through his red hair as the two of them waited on the curb for her car service. He was practically leaping out of his skin next to her. “That high-rise is ridiculous. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s definitely a head turner,” Devyn said, more conservatively.
“They have a movie theater for the tenants. And an amazing gym that is certainly better than the one I pay for monthly.”
Devyn grinned. “Yeah, well, there’s more where this one came from. When I sell out this one, there’ll be another waiting.” She passed him a glance. “You think you’re up for it? The McMahon listing is going to take a lot of finesse, especially if you’re used to smaller, more intimate listings. These guys want a lot of high-profile marketing and a lot of attention. Phone calls at three a.m. if they feel like it.”
“I understand and I’m up for it. Yes.” A pause as he gathered his gusto. “I mean hell, yes.”
She clapped him on the arm, just as the car arrived at the curb. “That’s the spirit.”
“Beyond just McMahon, though, how do I get that first listing with a developer like Wyatt? Someone huge,” he asked as they rode back to his car, the lights of downtown Philly glimmering.
Devyn whistled low. “That’s on you. You gotta be ready to scrap. Make a hundred calls. Arrange a few hard-to-get meetings, and follow rule number one: schmooze your ass off.”
“Schmooze my ass off. Got it. Do you think that if you had pushed, that you could have gotten another month? I mean—”
Devyn held up one finger and gestured to her phone. Oddly enough, the incoming call came from the area code she grew up with in South Carolina, but it wasn’t a number her phone recognized. She clicked onto the call anyway.
“This is Devyn.”
“Hello, am I speaking with Devyn Winters?” a female voice asked.
“Yes.” She rubbed the back of her neck, which ached from the long day. “What can I do for you?”
“This is Marlene DuBois. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m the assistant principal at Bay Elementary. We met at your mother’s funeral.”
Devyn blinked several times, trying to keep up. Her sister, Jill, was a fourth-grade teacher at Bay Elementary in the their hometown. What the hell? She sat up a little straighter, her attention crisp and focused. “Yes. How are you, Marlene? Is everything okay?”
“We’re hoping so, but I’m cautiously concerned.” A pause, while Devyn’s heart hammered away. Her sister was her best friend and pretty much the only family she had.
“Jill didn’t come into work today, and didn’t call in either. It’s unlike her.”
Oh, God. She blinked and tried to make her brain work. “No. Um, I completely agree. Jill wouldn’t do that.” She checked her watch. It was getting close to nine at night. Why were they just now calling her? What if Jill needed her? What if she’d been taken? There was a depth of stillness present in the car. They were stopped at a traffic light. The world had slowed down around her, yet her mind raced out of control, bolstered by adrenaline.
“We sent an officer to her home for a wellness check, but we weren’t able to locate her there either. Her car is gone, however.”
“Doesn’t matter. Something’s wrong,” Devyn said automatically. Her voice didn’t sound like her own, strangled and desperate. “Trust me on this. Tell the police she wouldn’t just take off and not show up for school.” She felt Ricky’s eyes on her and noted that the car was still stopped at the traffic light. She fought the urge to exit the vehicle, knowing that there would still be nothing she could do from the side of the road. Yet that nonsensical pull to do something, anything overrode all other instincts. She couldn’t stand being this far away.
“We think so, too, and since she has you listed as her emergency contact, I thought it might be time to give you a call.”
“I appreciate that.” Devyn’s take-charge side emerged. She willed it forward, along with a command to speak slowly, directly. “What do we need to do?”
“We’re making some calls, and some friends of hers have started a search,” Marlene explained. “Is there anyone else in the family she might have gone to visit?”
That was the thing. There was no family. Just the two of them since they’d lost their mother to a short bout with cancer four and a half years back. “No. There’s just me, and I’m in Philadelphia, but I’ll hop on a plane as soon as possible. Tonight.” After Jill’s divorce from that idiot Ed, she was all Jill had, and vice versa. If something had happened to her sister, she was damn sure going to show up.
Her mind flooded with all the things she had on her schedule that week. Of all the times for something like this to happen, this was definitely one of the least opportune. She pinched the bridge of her nose as the details swirled in a jumble. She’d make this work with help from her assistants and then make sure Jill was okay. She just had to be. There was no other option.
“Let me give you my cell number so we can keep in touch,” Marlene said. “Elizabeth Draper, who’s a friend of Jill’s, is actually the one who suggested I go ahead and give you a call. She’s been a
great help.” The name rang a bell, but Devyn’s brain wasn’t functioning properly. All she wanted was to hear Jill was found, safe and sound.
“Great. Thank you so much for calling, and let me know of any updates. I’ll keep my phone on.”
“Of course.”
They said goodbye and she clicked off the call, then pressed the phone to her chin as she mentally rearranged what she thought the next twenty-four hours of her life would look like. That was hard to do in the midst of swelling fear. She placed a hand on her chest as if that would somehow assuage the exponential worry. Focus. She would need to distribute appointments among her staff and reschedule the ones she’d need to be there for in person. Karen could help with those. Then there was her personal assistant outside the office, Sheldon, who would keep things in her condo and personal life afloat. This was really going to decelerate her momentum on a variety of projects, but that took a strong second place to her need to fix this, to find her sister and make the world turn again. God. This was Jilly she was talking about. The girl who’d given Devyn the good chocolate chip cookies and kept the burnt ones for herself and who’d attended every football game, a sport she loathed, just to watch Devyn cheer with the rest of the squad. Jill was only two years older, but her maternal side exaggerated their age difference to the point that Devyn really had looked to her as a second parent, next to their single mother, in many ways.
“Everything all right?” Ricky asked, after a long stretch of silence.
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. I think my sister needs me right now. I’m headed home to South Carolina.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she’s okay.” And then, “What part?”
“Tiny little place called Dreamer’s Bay. Right there on the water.”
He squinted at her and tilted his head. “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”
She nodded. “Most people haven’t.”
Chapter Two
Devyn blinked as she stood in line for her rental car at the Charleston airport. Holding a subpar cup of airport coffee that tasted a lot more like burnt popcorn, she stared out the large windows that showed her it was not yet daylight in South Carolina. She didn’t understand why time moved so slowly, why the attendant did. She tapped her foot. Adjusted her bag. Looked at her watch. All of it a helpless little dance to keep her from coming out of her skin. In a little over two hours, she’d arrive in Dreamer’s Bay for the first time in just over four years. In addition to the panic she waded through regarding her sister, the idea of being back home had her nervous and uncomfortable. Nothing but Jill could have brought her back. It wasn’t an awful town, quaint enough and easy to navigate, but she didn’t have too many fond memories, having hidden who she was the entire time she’d lived in the Bay. Worst of all now, the person she associated most with the town, her mother, wouldn’t be there. It made her resent the place even more.
“We’re out of luxury cars,” the gum-chewing rental agent told her as she tick-tacked away on her keyboard, glancing at her phone between hitting the Enter key.
“Midsize is fine.”
“No go.” More tick-tacking and phone checking.
Devyn sighed. “Compact, economy, whatever you have. Something with wheels would be fine. I’m in a hurry.”
“I have a Chevy Spark.”
“Sold.”
It turned out that the Chevy Spark was the smallest car Devyn had ever laid eyes on, and getting her Louis Vuitton suitcase into its microscopic back seat—forget about trunk space—was an ordeal requiring two hands and a well-placed foot. She gave the thing a last kick for good measure, blew the wayward strand of blond hair from her eyes, and swore. Why were little things getting in the way right now? She glanced at her phone for the million and ninth time for any message from Jill, willing one to be there. Nothing. She’d left countless voicemails for her and sent just as many texts. She blinked back her tears and slid into the driver’s seat for the short journey to her hometown. The drive left her alone with her thoughts, and that meant a million terrifying images. Jill bruised, battered, or tied up in the back of some guy’s car, hoping someone would find her. She punched the steering wheel in frustration and blared the radio to drown out her cruel brain.
With traffic nonexistent on the highway that early, she and her Spark made it just in time to see the sunrise over the water as she drove along the coast into Dreamer’s Bay. If her heart hadn’t ached, she might have been able to enjoy it. She pulled in a steadying breath as the familiar sights sprang into view, inspiring a nostalgic pang laced with dread. She took in the two-pump gas station on the outskirts of town where Mr. Henry could be seen doing his morning sweep with the newspaper rolled up in the back pocket of his baggy pants. She passed the rust-colored library, still wondering why they chose that shade but happy to see someone had purchased the building and marquee. According to the scrolling message, there would be a children’s book fair that week. Farther down Center Street, the main drag, she came to the heart of the town. The Circle, as they called the town’s roundabout, was outlined by a variety of businesses including an Arby’s and a McDonald’s that must have moved in since she’d last been home. Even Dreamer’s Bay was susceptible to big business invasion. The center of the Circle was made up of benches surrounded by large potted plants, offering a nice spot for folks to take their lunch hour and greet their friends and neighbors. She stared at the very bench where she remembered sitting with her mother, who had purchased both her and Jill a warm chocolate croissant. They’d eaten them there together, the three of them. Devyn felt the sharp rising of sadness almost immediately, like a chemical reaction. She gave her head a shake and pushed past it, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear—her own special game-time gesture. It always bolstered her confidence. This time it didn’t work. The town made her think acutely of her mother, who she missed desperately, but also of her youth, when she’d played the part of someone she barely recognized now. Both pulled at her chest, as if opening a long-put-to-bed wound. None of it was relevant. It didn’t matter whether she wanted to be in this town or not, she was here for Jill and should stay tuned into her. She’d be back home in Philly and living her life in no time, once she knew her sister was okay. And she would be. Devyn hated that she was even considering the alternative. Yet how could she not? Bile rose in the back of her throat as she banished another series of graphic images from her mind.
She arrived at the nondescript one-story brown police station and opened her mouth to speak to the young woman seated behind the first desk she came to. The woman beat her to it.
“Devyn Winters?” The small station looked empty behind her. Where were all of the people who were supposed to fight crime? The grim realization that she was in a tiny town with very few resources settled uncomfortably.
“Yes. I’m Devyn Winters, and I’m here about my sister.”
“Right this way.”
She followed the short brunette, dressed in business attire rather than a uniform, down the hallway to a large conference room with a long table in the center. The smell of stale coffee hit her hard. Someone around here liked it strong. She scanned the faces of the small group gathered. She knew most of them.
“Ms. Winters, I’m—”
“Officer Bertaw.” She remembered him from those high school safety presentations in the gym. He’d arrived each year with stickers, bookmarks, and stern reminders about the dangers of drinking and driving. She’d mostly daydreamed.
He smiled conservatively. “Detective Bertaw these day.”
“Congratulations,” she said, as sincerely as possible, given the occasion. Honestly, who the hell cared about his promotion right now? “Do we know anything more?” She glanced around the room. The redheaded woman with the bun and brightly colored skirt was likely the vice principal she’d spoken with. She nodded a hello. Next to her sat that Elizabeth Somebody from high school. No clue why she’d be there. Small towns were weird. Hadn’t Elizabeth been in charge of the high school food dr
ive? And why was her mind supplying unnecessary details in this moment? She blinked and focused.
Detective Bertaw gestured to a dry erase board. “We know Jill went to karaoke in Halper’s Glen last night. Mike’s Sports Bar does a thing every Tuesday evening. What we don’t know is if she made it back. We do know she’s not home at this point and did not report for work yesterday or today.”
Devyn closed her eyes momentarily at the rudimentary information. “And that she’s not answering texts or calls, which is nothing like my sister. That means something has happened to her. Trust me. Someone has her or she’s hurt somewhere.” She gestured to the space around her. “So, can we get out there and find her? Now?” Her throat tightened with anguish.
“We have patrol on it.”
“Pardon me.” She held up a pleading hand to Bertaw. “I say this with nothing but respect, but in the city limits, doesn’t that amount to approximately two people and one patrol car?” She glanced around for some kind of lifeline. Someone she could shake and make them understand. They all just blinked back at her, making her feel both powerless and determined to change that. She knocked on the table to wake everyone the hell up. “Let’s make some phone calls. Call in some police friends. I’ll pay for whatever you need. Money is not a problem.”
“It doesn’t exactly work that way,” Bertaw explained. He was losing his hair. On top and in the front. Little brown wisps clung as if using one another for comfort. Another unnecessary detail her stupid brain thought mattered. Now she wanted to shake herself. Her neck ached, her mouth was dry, and she felt shaky all over. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the call came in about Jill, not that she could have. Her stomach roiled.
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