Hold My Hand (Sequel to Saved: Adopted by Brendon Urie)

Chapter 38

The hotel room had stopped feeling like a hotel room sometime around three in the morning.

It was too quiet.

Too impersonal.

Every piece of furniture seemed to belong to someone else. Every muted sound from the corridor made Brendon look toward the door, expecting someone to walk in with news.

Abby had been gone for nearly two days.

Her suitcase was still open on the other bed.

One of her hoodies was draped over the chair.

A paperback she'd been reading was face-down on the nightstand, a receipt marking the page.

Brendon hadn't touched any of it.

He couldn't.

Detective Collins stood near the window, looking down at the London street below.

Two other officers were seated at the small table, reviewing photographs and timelines.

Brendon sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the television.

The sound was muted.

A news channel was running footage of the National Gallery.

His daughter's face wasn't on the screen.

At least not yet.

"Anything?" Brendon asked.

Collins turned.

"Not yet."

Brendon looked down.

He'd heard those words so many times that they barely registered anymore.

Not yet.

Nothing yet.

Still looking.

Still checking.

He rubbed his hands together.

"Bonnie?"

"Still at the hospital."

"Did she remember anything else?"

Collins shook his head.

"Nothing that changes the timeline. She remembers the woman approaching Abby. She remembers trying to get to her. Then she was hit from behind."

Brendon swallowed.

"She keeps blaming herself."

"I know."

"She thinks she failed Abby."

Collins's expression softened.

"She didn't."

Brendon nodded.

He knew that.

Knowing it didn't make it easier.

His phone vibrated.

One of the officers looked up.

Brendon glanced at the screen.

Not the kidnappers.

A California number.

He almost ignored it.

Then he saw the name.

Marcus Hale.

Brendon answered.

"Hale."

"Brendon."

The detective's voice was tired.