CHAPTER 15

Chase Coleman gazed at his smartphone, waiting, begging for it to ring. He was in the kitchen of his small house on Redmond Street, big circles under his eyes after a sleepless night. He needed to leave for work right away, but his body refused to move from the chair.

Something was going on. Yesterday his son hadn’t come to work without giving him notice, which was unlike him.

Chase had tried to reach him on his cell.

He must have called him about a hundred times, while at work and during the rest of the day.

But he always got the “turned off or out of range” automatic message.

At ten o’clock in the evening, when the anxiety was too much for him, he’d driven to his son’s apartment building.

He rang his bell and knocked on the door until his knuckles hurt, calling his name relentlessly.

He’d stayed there until the middle of the night, sitting against his door, waiting either for Steve to get back home or to turn on his phone, a terrible foreboding forming in his stomach.

Where are you, son? Chase thought as he gazed at the cup of coffee before him.

Of course, there was always the chance he’d lost his phone and that he never went back home because he spent the night…well, somewhere else, which was none of his business.

The thing was, if something had come up that meant he wasn’t going to make it to work, he would have tried to contact him some other way, perhaps having one of his friends lend him their phone. Chase knew his son, knew how responsible he was, how determined he was to help his father in the garage.

Something was wrong. Overwhelming anxiety dragged him across a field of misery. He’d already lost his wife in that car accident eight years ago, the pain of his loss still roaming around his heart, and the prospect of losing his son too was too much for him.

Chase was still glaring at his phone, but now for a different reason.

He wasn’t expecting it to ring anymore. Now he was looking at it because he was debating whether to call the cops.

It was a step he was too afraid to take, because it meant giving in to that unspeakable idea forming in his mind, which he was unwilling to acknowledge: that Steve was in danger.

Before Chase could make up his mind, his doorbell rang, jolting him from his seat.

He ran to the front door, relief rolling through him, as he tucked his gray T-shirt into his jeans.

People rang his doorbell seldom—he didn’t mingle with his neighbors, and the few friends he had he usually met in the center of town—except for Steve.

He was always ready to help his dad, stopping by now and then to give him a hand with something—perhaps he had a problem with his router, or maybe his basement steps needed some varnishing—or just to pay him a visit.

However, when he yanked the door open, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

It was Steve’s friend, Kevin Mendoza, and a scowl developed on Chase’s face—it was unconscious, but it was there—his prejudice towards Latinos automatically kicking in.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d be damned if he could help himself.

Kevin’s tired expression suggested he hadn’t slept much either. His greenish cargo pants had seen better days, and so had his bomber jacket. A black cap covered his hair.

“Hi, Mr. Coleman.”

Chase nodded, his eyes trying to hide his contempt towards Kevin. “Hi. Sorry, this is really not a good time.”

“Mr. Coleman, have you spoken to Steve recently? I tried to reach him all day yesterday, but his phone’s always off. He never keeps it off, so I’m kinda worried.”

Chase scowled at him. “No, I haven’t spoken to him. And now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

He made to close the door, but Kevin raised his hand. “Mr. Coleman. Please, listen to me. I know you don’t like me. And I get it, okay?”

Chase stared at him blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

” Except he did, of course. He’d never approved of Steve’s friendship with Kevin.

It wasn’t just the way Latinos spoke—that way of mixing Spanish and English drove him crazy—but their apparently inborn tendency to get involved in shady stuff.

And Kevin and his buddies were no exception.

“Mr. Coleman, I believe your son might be in danger.”

Chase glared at him, tension forming lines in his face, but didn’t say a word.

Kevin went on, “I don’t know if you knew this, but he’s been dating Alisa Dowling for a while. Had been dating, actually, because they’d just–”

“Wait a second,” Chase cut in. “Dowling? Dowling? You’re telling me my son has been dating the daughter of the Dowlings?”

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I think Steve is in danger…because of her. He’d recently broken up with her, and she didn’t take it well. In fact, she got a little violent, and–”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Chase said. “I don’t need you to play detective for me, okay?”

“Please, Mr. Coleman, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m telling you to get out of my property.” Chase took a step forward, and Kevin retreated. “Don’t come here ever again, understood?”

Kevin raised his hands. “Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Chase slammed the door shut and leaned against it as he let out a long sigh.

Steve, what have you done?

From all the women in Parnell, he had to fall for Jeff Dowling’s daughter. And he’d pissed her off. Which meant antagonizing her parents as well.

Chase rubbed his eyes as anxiety crashed against him.

Were the Dowlings involved in his son’s sudden disappearance?

It seemed unlikely. Jeff Dowling was a conceited prick, sure, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d go as far as to kidnap someone.

But then again, how much did he really know about him?

He strode to the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the table, his hand shaking with apprehension.

It was time to call the cops.

◆◆◆

Kevin’s mind was miles away as he drove to work, the image of Chase’s house fading in his rearview mirror. Unease sheared through him, tension dominated his body. His fingers dug into the steering wheel.

He’d known Steve’s father wasn’t terribly fond of him, but prejudice against Latin Americans wasn’t new to him.

He lived in a building packed with Latino-hating neighbors who didn’t even bother saying hello.

However, he’d wanted to let Chase know who his son had been involved with prior to his disappearance—Steve had told him he’d never had the courage to tell his father he was dating Jeff Dowling’s daughter, which was kind of understandable.

He’d also been hoping to warn Chase against getting the cops involved, but he hadn’t given him a chance.

Kevin hadn’t liked Alisa from the start, and the one time he’d met her, he could tell the feeling was mutual.

If that conceited brat had wanted to hurt Steve, Kevin had no doubt she would have asked Daddy to give her a hand, and Daddy would have.

The media could do all the ass-kissing they wanted regarding Jeff Dowling.

Kevin could see through that man, and that man was dangerous.

The Dowlings had Steve. Kevin knew it.

If Chase Coleman called the cops, he’d only be making things worse for himself and his son. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Jeff Dowling had several contacts in the police department.

One thing was for sure: Kevin was going to find a way to break into their mansion and rescue his friend. He’d been his only true friend for years, and he wasn’t going to let those maniacs do…he didn’t even want to think about what they might be doing to him.

Lines of determination creasing his face, he decided he was going to get on with it right now.

He’d get fired for not showing up at work—his prick of a boss was waiting for the smallest excuse to fire him—but that was irrelevant now.

He needed to find his friend, and he was going to need help to accomplish this.

He needed to pay his brother a visit.