Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)(76)

I open my mouth to say something, I’m not sure what, when his phone rings and drowns any thoughts I had, replacing them with fear. I throw the pillow aside and sit up.

“Coleman here … yes … I see …” His eyes dart to me. “Are you sure? … Have you arrested him? … There? Well, yes, I did say that, but … I can’t leave my daughter here alone … No, she’s sixteen, but … yes, of course … okay, an hour, I’ll be there, thanks. Bye.” He hangs up the phone and slowly lowers it to his side. Dread has numbed every muscle in my body, and I’m frozen as I wait for the news.

“They don’t know anything for sure yet, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“What did they say? Where’s Laila?”

“Her parents haven’t seen her since this morning. But just because she isn’t at home, doesn’t mean that something has happened to her. An officer is stationed at her house, so when she comes back he can inform me immediately.” He goes to the closet and pulls out a duffel bag. “And I promise to keep you updated.”

“Updated? Where are you going?”

He puts the bag on top of his dresser and starts loading clothes into it. “Most of the time, a video of an interview is all I need to determine if someone is lying or not. But Mr. Paxton is an expert liar, so I need to feel his energy to confirm some findings. We’re hoping that if he happens to know where Laila is, we can get that information from him as well. The Bureau is flying me there in an hour. I’d like you to call a friend to come stay with you while I’m gone.”

“A friend? I don’t have any friends.”

“I’ve met several of your friends. What about that Stephanie girl? She seems nice.”

I have a death grip on the corner of his sheet. “I want to come with you.”

“I’m sorry. This is a private Bureau jet, and you don’t have clearance.”

“Can’t they give me clearance? This is my best friend we’re talking about here. Please, Dad.”

“Addison, I’m sorry. There are policies for a reason. I can’t be worrying about your safety if we want to find Laila. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do.”

He zips up his bag. “Promise me you’ll call a friend,” he says, then studies my face as I prepare to answer.

I avert my gaze. “I don’t lie to you, Dad. No need to analyze me.”

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t. And I’m grateful for the trust that gives me in you. I hope you can trust me again one day too.” He starts to put his hands on my shoulders but stops. I can’t reassure him in this moment. There are too many feelings swirling around in my chest to sort them all out. He disappears into the bathroom, and when he comes out he’s dressed in a suit. He gives me a worried look.

“I’ll call a friend.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know as soon as I land.” He kisses my forehead.

I hug him tight, and then he is gone and I stand in his room all alone, rubbing my arms. The clock on his nightstand reads 3:30 a.m. The screen of my cell phone is still black. When I run my finger across it, the light makes me squint. I go to my phone book, hesitant to call Trevor this late. I stop on my mom’s number, and my thumb shakes as it hovers over the Call button. I finally let it fall and listen to it ring four times.

“Addie? What’s wrong?” her sleep-deepened voice answers.

“It’s Laila. She’s missing. Dad’s on his way home. It’s bad, Mom.”

I hear her bedside light click on. “What?” she says at first, and then processes the information without me having to repeat it. “Oh, Addie, I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared.”

We share a few quiet breaths. I know she’s angry with me for shutting her out. I wonder if she’s going to hold it against me now.

“I’m going to make some calls, see if I can help. When they find Laila, I should be there for her, since her parents probably won’t.”

Hot tears fall down my cheeks. “That would be great, Mom. Thanks.”

“Why don’t you call Trevor? I’m sure he would come over.”

“How do you know about …” I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

“Laila has kept me updated. I miss you. Trevor sounds great, Addie.”

I smile a little. “I miss you too.”

“Everything is going to be fine, okay?”

“Okay.” I start to think that maybe it is.

I hang up. I want to call Trevor, but it’s so early. I text him instead. Call me when you wake up. It’s important.

Less than five minutes later, my phone rings. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” he asks. I explain to him what’s happening.

“I’m on my way.”

Trevor shows up, his disheveled hair proving he rushed, and wraps his arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’s going to be okay,” I say into his chest.

“Of course she is. She probably has no idea we’re all worried about her and is just hanging out with some friends.”

I want to nod my head and agree, even though my stomach is trying to tell me the opposite as it churns and bubbles with unease. He leads me to the couch, sits me down, and pries my phone out of my hands, setting it on the coffee table.