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  We took a few breaks to let London stretch out and to give Brian some relief from traffic. We hadn’t taken the congestion of the tourist areas into account, and our search circle wasn’t expanding as fast as we had hoped it would. By lunchtime, we all had a little black storm cloud hanging over our heads. We kept at it, though, until nearly dark.

  And through it all, London never felt so much as a spark.

  We headed back to the hotel with our hearts a little heavier than they had been. Before the door had even closed behind him, London made a beeline for the closet. He pressed Dylan’s dress against his cheek, and then he laughed.

  “She’s okay,” he told us. “I mean, Brian and I checked on her this morning, but.... Anyway, she’s pissed, but she’s also feeling smug about something. That’s gotta be a good thing, right?”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Maybe she kicked her kidnapper in the dangly bits.” I paused, staring at him. “You didn’t need us this time. To connect to Dylan.”

  London looked a little surprised, like he hadn’t realized it himself until I pointed it out. He let go of the dress, smoothing it. “That’s gotta be a good thing, too, right?” He didn’t sound so sure this time.

  Brian gave London’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Anything that helps us find Dylan’s a good thing. We’ll sort the rest out later.”

  London gave him a tired smile and a nod. He ran through some stretches while we all decided what to order from room service, and then he lay down flat on his back on the floor. Brian picked up the phone to call in the order, and I moved away to stand over London, looking down at him. There were dark circles under his eyes and tension seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the muscles of his forehead and neck.

  I nudged him with my foot, and waited for him to open his eyes before I spoke. “A hot shower will help more than a hard floor.”

  “Probably.”

  “Come on,” I said, offering him a hand up.

  He smiled and reached for my hand. His eyes fluttered a little when we touched, and for some reason it made my pulse speed up just a touch. Stupid hormones.

  Either London didn’t notice – he was exhausted after all – or he chose not to comment. He just hauled himself to his feet, and somehow managing to avoid pulling me off mine in the process. As the bathroom door shut behind him, I grabbed my purse.

  “Going down to the gift shop,” I told Brian. “I’ll be right back.”

  Brian insisted on going with me, but we didn’t see any sign of trouble. I gathered up a few necessities, including the razor I had wanted the night before, and paid up, and we were back in the room before London even knew we had gone. He emerged from the shower a few minutes later, his t-shirt and pajama pants sticking to him from the damp, and curled up on the bed where Brian sat flicking through TV channels.

  Brian settled on some action adventure movie on HBO, the volume turned low. I don’t like to come into a movie halfway through, but in this case it didn’t matter. We only watched it to kill time while we waited for dinner not because we gave a damn about the plot.

  After dinner, Brian headed for the shower, leaving London and I alone. London lay stretched out on the bed, reading Ashe’s notes. I sat at the desk, going through Dylan’s email and social networking accounts again and turning up nothing.

  “Hey,” London said from behind me. “Remember last night when I said we’d talk later?”

  I remembered. “Nothing to talk about.”

  London chuckled. “Think about who you’re lying to.”

  I did think about it. This empathy thing could be damned annoying. “No, really. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  The sheets rustled, and when London spoke again his voice came from somewhere nearer. “Why does it bother you?”

  I looked back over my shoulder to find him sitting on the foot of the bed.

  “Is it because of Dylan?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I...I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

  London laid his hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  I wanted to deny being embarrassed, but I couldn’t. Stupid superpowers. I sighed. “It’s okay.” I took a breath. “See, the thing is, I don’t even know why the Brian thing bothers me. I’ve always thought he’s gorgeous, since the first time I laid eyes on him. Had no idea who he was at the time. I just knew he didn’t look like he belonged on a cruise ship full of frat boys and old people. But it’s never been...it’s always been just an appreciation, you know? Like admiring a painting or something. It’s not like I want what Dylan’s got with him.”

  “Yeah, I know. I mean, I could tell.”

  “So I don’t know why it suddenly seems wrong.” But even as I said it, I knew why it felt wrong. Admiring Brian made me feel disloyal to London – an idea so ludicrous it should make me want to laugh. “Maybe it’s just the situation,” I said. “It doesn’t seem right to be ogling Brian – or anyone else – right now.”

  I wasn’t sure if London could tell that I was lying, but if he knew, he let it go. I turned back to the computer and pulled up Dylan’s bank account. I scrolled through the charges...and let out a strangled yip.

  “What, what is it?” London asked. He leaned against the back of the chair, and I pointed at the screen. “Oh, wow.”

  I heard the bathroom door open, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the screen. I couldn’t find my voice, either, so it was London who shared the news with Brian.

  “Someone’s using Dylan’s debit card,” he said.

  “What? Where?” Brian asked. A second later, he, too, hovered over me and the laptop.

  “Here. In Orlando,” London told him. “Fast food, supermarket, gas station....”

  “The charges are all from yesterday,” I added, regaining my ability to speak. “While we were in Key West, someone was using Dylan’s money for a shopping spree.”

  “Are that a store number?” Brian asked, pointing to string of digits listed beside the name of one of the fast food places.

  “I dunno.” I did a web search using the name and number, but came up blank. Similar searches on the other entries gave us nothing, either.

  The easy path obliterated, we went with plan B. I opened my computer notepad and jotted down the names of the stores where the card had been used. London grabbed his laptop, and we made lists of locations for each of the stores. Comparing the lists, we found that the three stores were grouped together in only a couple of places in Orlando.

  Ten minutes later the boys were dressed and we were out the door again.

  Two hours later, Brian pulled the car into a deserted parking lot, shut off the engine, and got out. He paced, swearing and dragging his hands through his hair.

  “Stay here,” London said as he hopped out of the car.

  He laid his hands on Brian’s shoulders, but Brian jerked back and pushed him away. London said something I couldn’t hear, and Brian shoved him. London shoved back, and Brian threw a punch. London brought a hand up to block the punch, and the boys grappled for a minute. I was out of my seatbelt and had the car door open before I realized that the fight was over. I watched Brian sink to his knees, his head in his hands. London knelt beside him, blocking my view, and I realized why he’d told me to stay behind. Brian wouldn’t want me seeing this. He wouldn’t want anyone seeing him like this. I closed the door as quietly as I could and stared hard out the opposite window.

  I had no way of knowing how much time passed before they came back to the car. It seemed like years. No one said a word about Brian’s breakdown, but when we got back to the hotel, London strong-armed him into taking some kind of prescription sleeping pill. It worked fast, and he was out cold by the time I got out of the shower.

  “Got a couple more of those?” I asked London.

  He turned away from the window. “A couple?”

  I pointed at myself and said, “One,” and then at London and said “two.”

  He shook his head. “Be my
guest, but I won’t need it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

  “Then why aren’t you asleep?”

  London shrugged. “Got caught up in thinking about what to do next. And...I kind of wanted to wait for you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. London had that effect on me more than I was comfortable with. I just nodded and starting shutting off lights. London met me at the desk, offering me the bottle of sleeping tablets. I considered for a moment, and then shook my head.

  “Antihistamines make me loopy enough. That stuff might put me in a coma. I’m good.”

  London smiled. He set the bottle on the desk and shut off the lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, the only light coming in through the window. I crawled under the duvet as he pulled the curtain almost closed and then curled up with my back to him. A moment later, he climbed into bed and curled up around me.

  “This okay?” he asked.

  I didn’t say anything, but I laid my arm on top of his. I figured that was answer enough. I guess it was, because he snuggled in a little closer.

  I lay awake long after London fell asleep, the last holdout. I should have taken the damned sleeping pill. It was too late now, though. I didn’t want to get out of bed and risk waking London. After all, he was the key to this whole thing. He was the one who needed to be well-rested. I could afford to lose a little more sleep. London’s well-being was the reason I refused to get out of bed and grab one of those damned tablets. It wasn’t because I couldn’t bear the thought of sliding out of his embrace. Not at all. Honest.

  Yeah, right.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hours later, I woke to the soft music of a gently strummed guitar. I couldn’t place the song right away – I hadn’t slept much, and I was groggy as hell – but I noticed right off that it wasn’t anything mournful. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, blinking against the sunlight peering in around the curtains, not at all surprised to find Brian still unconscious beside me.

  London stopped playing and looked up at me. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  I shook my head, struggling to disentangle myself from the bedcovers. “What time is it?” I asked as I stumbled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.

  “Nearly noon.”

  I swore under my breath and was about to ask why he hadn’t woken Brian and me, but I remembered all that had happened the night before – false hope, meltdown, sleeping pills. Yeah, I’d have let us sleep, too. Still, we needed to find Dylan, and we couldn’t do that while cavorting with the Sandman.

  I went through my morning routine and got dressed, and by the time I was done I felt a little more human. Stepping out of the bathroom to find breakfast and coffee waiting helped a little more. London was sitting on the edge of the bed by Brian, cup of coffee in hand, trying to lure his friend awake. It was working pretty well, too.

  While demolishing a bagel smothered in honey-walnut cream cheese – whoever came up with that combination deserves to be nominated for sainthood or something – I went back over the information London and I had compiled. The results came out the same – the combination of stores where Dylan’s card had been used were right where we thought they were, and we’d searched the areas with no luck.

  “Don’t kill me for asking this,” London said, “but if Dylan was kidnapped....”

  “Why would someone use her card?” I finished, cutting him off. He nodded, and I shrugged in response. “Maybe she lost the saddlebag she calls a purse and some kid’s having a field day with her bank account.”

  “Or maybe the kidnapper is just really stupid,” London suggested.

  “How dumb would you have to be to leave a trail pointing right at you? I can’t imagine that being the case.”

  “I don’t know,” Brian said, licking cream cheese off his finger, “There are some really stupid people in the world. Like that girl...what’s her name? The one who got into some of Dylan’s online accounts...bought a bunch of stuff and had it sent to her address?”

  “Oh, god. Vanessa,” I said. “Sad thing is, she’s not dumb. She just doesn’t bother to think. And, oh yeah, she’s a freaking psychopath.”

  London looked thoughtful. “Who’s this Vanessa?”

  “An ex-friend of Dylan’s. Dylan swears she was a decent person once upon a time, but I’ve never seen it. And I met the loony bitch over a decade ago.”

  Brian and London did that whole annoying communicating-with-nothing-but-eye-contact thing, and I shook my head.

  “No way. Vanessa is psycho enough to kidnap Dylan, sure, but she couldn’t have planned it, pulled it off, and disappeared. Her mind just doesn’t work that way. Or at all, sometimes.”

  “What if she had help?” London asked between sips of coffee.

  I considered it. “I’d say it’s possible that she could have done it if she was working with someone else but still not likely.”

  “Is there any way to find out where she is?” Brian asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s not in our circle anymore. She still tries to play friends with Dylan sometimes, but that’s about it.” I finished off my bagel and chased it with a few sips of coffee. Then a light bulb went on in my head. “Hand me my cell?”

  Brian passed me my phone, and I tapped out a text message to Vanessa’s ex-boyfriend, asking if he’d heard from her lately. He answered right away, just like I figured he would. His phone might as well be super-glued to his hand. Yes, he’d talked to her the night before.

  I thought for a moment, trying to come up with a justification for wanting to know her whereabouts. Dave knew I couldn’t stand Vanessa and that I thought he was an idiot for still talking to her. Then, epiphany: I told him that Dylan had gotten a weird email from her and was worried about her state of mind, concerned for her safety. The phone rang in my hand, startling all of us.

  “Hey, Dave,” I answered. “Aren’t you at work?”

  “On my lunch break,” he told me. “What’s up?”

  I fed him a line of utter bullshit, making it up as I went along. I kept it as close to the truth as possible, basing the imaginary email from Vanessa on some of the ones she’d sent to Dylan in the past. Dave believed every word.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “She called to brag about her new boyfriend and rub it in how happy she’s been since I dumped her.”

  “What a pal.”

  “I’m glad she’s doing so well,” Dave said. He even meant it, poor guy.

  “I know this is a weird question, but do you know where she is? I mean, I heard she moved back to El Paso....”

  “Yeah, she did. Moved back in with her parents and went back to school. But she’s apparently ditching classes this week to hang out with the new boyfriend. Brian, I think? She was bragging about how he’s taking her to Disney World - and bitching about how I never cared enough to take her.”

  I shivered, but it wasn’t from cold. I mumbled something about how it sounded like she really was okay and I guessed the email was nothing to be worried about, was probably just another of Vanessa’s ploys to try to get Dylan interested in being friends again. He said he had to go so he could actually eat during his lunch break, and we hung up.

  With shaking hands, I reached out to lay the cell on the desk. I missed. My head spun a little and everything started to look grey around the edges. I closed my eyes, trying to make the world steady itself again. I could hear movement, and then warm, strong hands took mine.

  “Em?” London’s voice sounded far away, though he was kneeling right in front of me.

  “I think you guys were right,” I said. “And I think Vanessa’s lost what was left of her mind.” I pulled my hands free from London’s. Touching me had to be hell on him right now, feeling what I was feeling. “Brian, how much did Dylan tell you about Vanessa?”

  Brian’s brow furrowed in concentration as he dredged up memories. “She told me Vanessa screwed her boyfriend. Previous boyfriend. And she told me about the crazy emails.”

  “She tell you that Va
nessa thought her boyfriend, Dave, was cheating on her with Dylan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wasn’t true.”

  “Of course not. She was projecting. Somewhere in her subconscious, she felt shitty about screwing the boyfriend and so she imagined that Dylan paid back the favor.”

  I leaned back in the chair. “He wasn’t really Dylan’s boyfriend, but yeah. Same idea.” I watched London push himself upright and move to sit on the bed. “Vanessa has always been jealous of Dylan, always wanted what Dylan has, wanted to be better than Dylan, wanted Dylan to depend on her.”

  “Sounds like an awesome person,” London said.

  I gave him a wry smile. “Oh, yeah. A real peach. The thing is, I think, from what Dave said, it’s gone beyond that. I think she’s delusional.” I took a deep breath and then repeated what Dave had said about Vanessa skipping school to spend a few days at Disney World with her boyfriend – a boyfriend who Dave thought might be named Brian.

  “It’s a common name,” London said. I gave him a look. “Yeah, okay, it sounds like she’s snapped.”

  “Yeah, anyway,” I turned back toward the desk and woke up the sleeping laptop. “I’m going to see if there have been any more charges on the card, and then we’re going to go drive around in circles until we find Dylan.”

  “I know it seems hopeless, Brian,” I heard London say. “But unless they move her every single day, we’ll find her soon.”

  With my back to the boys, I could only imagine what had prompted London’s sudden need to reassure his friend. Maybe he’d sensed something, and maybe it had been written all over Brian’s face.

  “It’d be a damned sight sooner if anyone in this city knew how to drive,” I added, aiming for levity and not quite making it. Vanessa – if that’s who had Dylan’s card – hadn’t spent any more money. Maybe someone had pointed out how dumb it had been. Maybe they’d moved Dylan because of it. That would explain why last night’s search had been fruitless. I shared this insight with the guys, and we discussed where to start the day’s search.