THOUGH THE OTHERS DON’Tseem to be blaming me for what’s happened, I can’t help but blame myself. My stomach is a constant knot. My shame is a sickness lodged in the back of my throat. I’ve never regretted anything the way I regret my actions with Honor.
I can see now that I was wrong. Honor leaving wouldn’t have brought the four of us closer together. If anything, the opposite would have happened. The others would have retreated into themselves, mourning her rejection, questioning why she’d left.
I get on the phone, and a male voice, thick with sleep, answers.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I say. “This is important.”
There’s a shuffle of sheets as the private investigator who works for us sits up in bed. I picture him flicking on the bedside lamp, and his wife or girlfriend shooting him an irritated look for disturbing his sleep.
We pay him enough to be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Carter grunts. “What’s going on?”
“Is Wren still in Reno?” I ask.
“As I told Rafferty, it was just aleadon Wren being in Reno. If it’s him, he’s using a different name. I never had final confirmation.”
“Why not?” I snap.
“I left the ball in your court. I fed that information back to you. It was up to the four of you to take the next actions. I’ve been waiting to hear from you about how you wanted to proceed.”
“Well, you can take this as us notifying you. We think Wren might be connected to a man who has taken a woman we—” I interrupt myself.
I’d been about to say ‘a woman we love.’ The realization hits me like a punch to the chest.Love?What do any of us know about love? Are we even capable of such a thing?
I clear my throat and try again. “A woman who is important to us. The man’s name is Don Bowen, and he’s a detective with the LAPD. We have reason to believe he brought a boat calledSecret Truthto the island and snatched Honor Armitage, though she may also be going under the name Honor Harper.”