The Replay (Boys of Richland #3)

1. Gabriel

gabriel

. . .

Present

My frustration mounts with each second that passes. “What do you mean, you won’t go out and look for her?” I demand, my voice echoing through the sterile lobby of the Richland Police Department.

The asshole behind the counter doesn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation right now.

My girl is missing.

She didn’t wander off. She’s not hanging out with friends and ignoring her phone.

She. Is. Missing.

I’ve searched all over campus. The pool. The Wolf Den. The soccer field. Julio spoke to Adriana. She’s not with her. Atticus and Deacon checked all the common spaces at PacNorth U and came up empty-handed. We’ve all taken turns calling her phone. And still, nothing.

I’m spiraling here and running out of places to look.

Felix checked in with Cecilia’s parents right before we came to the station. She hadn’t gone home yet, either.

Dread settles low in my gut.

I have to find her.

“Sir, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since your friend was last?—”

I slam my fist down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the room. “He’s out,” I snarl at the rent-a-cop behind the desk. “The asshole who tried to kill her only a few weeks ago is out there.” I wave my arm wildly toward the entrance. “And on the day he’s released, Cecilia’s nowhere to be found. That doesn’t strike you as suspicious? This isn’t a coincidence. He has her. Holt?—”

The officer heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Look, kid, as I’ve already mentioned, Mr. Holt’s whereabouts have been determined. He’s under strict house arrest until his trial?—”

“Then he has her in his home,” I interject. “He probably has her chained to the floor in some creepy fucker dungeon in that mansion he calls a house. Did you check? Like, with your eyes?” He rests his hand on his holster, and I force myself to take a breath. Fuck. This asshole is going to kick me out of here if I don’t calm down. Or worse, arrest me for making a scene. And then where would I be?

With more restraint than I realize I’m capable of, I lower my voice and grind out, “Do you know for a fact he’s home and that she isn’t in there with him?”

The officer huffs, his patience running on fumes. “Sir?—”

Goddammit! It’s that fucking tone. That ‘you’re overreacting and wasting my time, kid,’ tone.

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

His scowl deepens, irritation flickering in his beady eyes.

Fuck him. My patience ran out over an hour ago.

Reaching beneath the counter, he pulls out a form and shoves it across the desk to me. “You know what, kid?” he snaps. “Here. Have at it.”

My gaze drops to the paperwork, my eyes skimming over the text.

“Once twenty-four hours have passed, you can file a missing person’s report.” He glowers. “This will help you get a head start on the paperwork. You can turn it in once twenty-four hours have passed, not a minute before.”

My nostrils flare, and my fingers curl around the papers.

Fuck this guy and his fucking form. This isn’t going to help me find her.

“You and the girl both attend PacNorth, right?”

I nod, barely holding back my fury. I cannot lunge across this counter. I cannot punch this pendejo in the face. Cecilia needs me right now, and I cannot—under any circumstance—get myself arrested.

“She’s probably with her girlfriends or at one of those fraternity parties you kids are always excited about. I’m sure your friend will turn up, and you won’t even need the paperwork.”

Grinding my teeth, I fight to rein in my temper. “What about the whole bit where every minute counts in a missing person’s case? The first forty-eight hours are crucial, and if we wait?—”

“That only applies if the individual is missing.”

She is missing! I want to scream.

Fuck this. I’m getting nowhere.

“Thanks for nothing,” I snap, grabbing the paper from the countertop and storming outside where the rest of the guys are waiting for me.

Felix pushes off the hood of his car, his face tense with worry as soon as I shove through the glass doors. “What’d they say?” he hollers.

Jaw tight, I stride toward him. “They won’t look for her. It hasn’t been long enough since we last saw her, and they don’t think she’s actually missing. The asshole had the nerve to suggest she’s out partying right now.”

“That’s bullshit,” Atticus exclaims, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Cecilia wouldn’t be caught dead at a party.”

“I know.” I fold the missing person’s form and slide it into my back pocket before accepting the helmet Julio holds out for me.

“So, if the cops won’t help, what’s the plan?” Julio asks, his expression grim.

“I don’t know.” I tighten my grip on the helmet. The weight of the last 24 hours crashes down on me. What was I thinking? Going off on her like that. I was mean to her.

Nah. My mouth twists thinking about the words I said. “Mean” is being too generous. What I really was is cruel. I told her shit between us is over when it isn’t. I lashed out and knew how hard each verbal blow would land. Cecilia didn’t deserve that. And now she’s MIA, all because of me.

I hang my head as a fresh wave of shame settles over me. I was just so fucking angry. Seeing the way my mom looked at me—the way she rejected my very existence in her life … It hurt. But that’s not an excuse. I let family shit get in my head, and I took it out on someone I care about. I fucked up. So what if Mom wants nothing to do with me? It’s been like that for a while now. Ever since my twin’s death. I should be used to it by now. I might not have predicted how shitty her rejection would feel, but I knew, deep down, she didn’t want me there. That the invitation had to be some sort of fluke. A mistake. And then I went and made an already shitty night shittier by blaming Cecilia. By lashing out and pushing the one woman who actually gives a damn about me away.

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Now Holt’s made bail. What is it going to be next?

“We could try the pool again,” Deacon suggests, his tone doubtful.

I pull my helmet down over my head and flick up the visor. “You do that,” I tell him. “It can’t hurt.” But it’s not like he’ll find her there. We’ve already looked. Deacon is just trying to be useful. To stay busy. We all are. The more time that passes, the harder it is not to think of all the worst-case scenarios. But, I can’t go there yet. My stomach is already sick with dread. I have to believe she’s okay. That Holt didn’t find some way to get to her.

“What if she really isn’t missing?” Felix hedges, his voice uncertain. “She was upset. You guys had just had a fight. She might have gone somewhere to clear her head. It’s what you did when you disappeared to the Pier. Maybe she?—”

“When she needs to clear her head, she goes to the campus pool. She swims. She’s got a pool at her place and we have the pool at PacNorth. She’s not at either of them. We’ve looked everywhere else she frequents. J called Adriana. She doesn’t know where Cecilia is. She called around to some of the other girls on the swim team, and they hadn’t seen her either. Fuck, I even reached out to that asswipe, Wyatt, that she went out with before. I don’t know where else she would go.” My voice sounds defeated even to my own ears.

“We’ll go sit on Holt’s house,” Atticus suggests, indicating Deacon beside him. “We’ll swing by the campus pool on our way just to be safe. Someone should have eyes on Holt in case he leaves or …” He trails off with a shrug.

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” The two of them head out in Atticus’s car, leaving Julio, Felix, and me alone in the police parking lot.

“You should take a beat,” Julio says. “It’s been a few hours. You need?—”

“I need to find her,” I grit out. “That’s all that matters right now.”

Julio purses his lips together. “She was upset when Felix dropped her off,” he reminds me. “I get that swimming is her thing, but she still might have gone somewhere else. For a walk or to a friend’s.”

“She doesn’t hang out with anyone else. She’s got us, and she has Adriana. That’s it.”

I know Julio is trying to be reasonable. He probably thinks I’m overreacting, but I’m not. I can’t explain it. But I know it in my gut. Cecilia isn’t okay. It’s the same feeling I had during our practice that something was wrong. I was right then. And I know I’m right now.

Julio sighs. “Fine. We’ll figure out where to look next after we drop your bike off at the soccer house. We’ll use the drive over to brainstorm ideas.”

“We should split?—”

“No,” Julio cuts me off. “We did that already. We divided, and we didn’t conquer. You’re running on fumes, and I don’t need you racing off on your bike in the middle of the night and getting yourself killed. Follow us home, drop off the bike. We’ll regroup and then take Felix’s car to continue the search.”

“Fine.” I throw a leg over my Cbr 1000, settling onto the leather seat. Flipping over the ignition, the engine roars to life. I tug on my riding gloves and rev the engine, preparing to head out, when Felix steps up beside me.

“Keep your head on straight, and don’t do anything stupid.” He raises his voice to be heard over the motor. “We’re all worried, okay? But we’re gonna find her.”

He claps me on the shoulder, and I grunt.

“I’ll see you at the house in ten. Don’t take any detours.” Flicking my visor down, I brush off the order and take off down the street, the wind whipping around me as I race toward the soccer house. My heart pounds in my chest, determination fueling me. I want to believe him. There’s no alternative.

I am going to find her. And she’s going to be okay.

She has to be.