Oh God.
Please let Kristin be here.
A dog barks somewhere close, a sharp, aggressive sound that makes me flinch. I try to keep my breathing even, but it’s a losing battle. The silence stretching between the noises is almost worse, amplifying the sense of being utterly alone and exposed. I quicken my pace, my gaze fixed on the path ahead, trying to ignore the way the gravel crunches too loudly under my feet as I cross toward the porch.
“Close,” I whisper to myself, lifting my phone to make sure I’m moving closer to the red dot and not further away. Good thing the location app is this accurate, or I’d be wandering around with no idea where to start. The dot marks Kristin’s last recorded location before her phone turned off.
Christ, why would Kristin come here? And why did she turn her phone off without letting me know she wasn’t coming home first?
I’m going to kick her ass if I find her!When. Not if.
I follow the dot until it lands on the same address where Kristin’s car is parked.
What kind of modeling audition happens at someone’s house?
A low thump of music vibrates from inside, muffled by the closed door. I hesitate for a second, my hand hovering inches from the wood.
How dumb am I going to look when I knock and Kristin is inside completely fine? I bet she’ll be pissed off at me for coming all the way out here and interrupting whatever it is she’s doing in there, but I don’t mind a screaming match with her. Christ, I just want her to be okay. I can handle her pissed off as long as she’s okay.
Taking a deep breath that does little to calm the frantic flutter in my chest, I rap my knuckles against the wood. The sound of the knock is swallowed by the loud music on the other side, so I knock again, harder this time. For a moment, nothing happens, and I start to wonder if anyone even heard me. My hand rises again, trembling slightly, but before I can knock, the door opens. I suck in a sharp breath and take a quick step back, my pulse jumping as the man in the doorway looks me over.
Standing in the entrance is the same man who came into the diner. He’s dressed nicely enough, with a button-down shirt tucked into dark slacks, but something about him still makes my stomach clench. Maybe it’s the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, or the way his gaze moves over me before returning to my face.
“You’re not the delivery driver.”
My brows furrow as I stare into the face I didn’t trust yesterday when he showed up at the diner where Kristin and I work, claiming to be a photographer scouting models. I don’t trust it now either.
“Mr. Leopold?” I say, clearing my throat when my voice comes out shaky. “You don’t remember me?”
His eyes narrow as he tries to place me, then recognition flickers across his face.
“Rosalie, right?” he asks, his smile widening. “Kristin said you might come by.”
“I’m here for Kristin,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “You came to our diner yesterday, scouting for models, and set up a meeting with her. She came here for the photoshoot, and I haven’t been able to reach her since.”
I turn and point at the dark blue Corolla parked at the curb. “That’s her car right there.”
His gaze flicks past me toward Kristin’s car, then back to my face. For half a second, something cold moves through his eyes, but it’s gone so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined it.
“Of course,” he says, his smile returning. “We’ve been working most of the day, and she got tired. She’s lying down for a bit.”
My stomach tightens. “So, she’s still here?”
“She is.”
“Really?” I’m afraid to hope. To believe him. But Kristin always said creative people kept strange hours and stranger habits. “Can you get her? If she’s tired, I can drive her car home.”
“Sure.” He motions for me to come in, smiling when I hesitate. “Come on. Your friend is a heavy sleeper. I’ll wake her, and we can go through some of the photos we took before you leave.”
Everything in me screams to turn around and leave this place, but concern for Kristin wins. Even as I nod, I discreetly slide my hand into my bag and wrap my fingers around thepepper spray I always carry as I walk past the man and into the house.
“Where is she?” I ask, looking around the small space. It’s cleaner than I expected, sterile almost, with very little that makes it feel like someone actually lives here.
“Hmm, they’re going to pay a pretty penny for you too.”
I jump when the door shuts behind me, and I turn to find the man grinning at me, those eyes dark and dangerous in a way that has the hair on the back of my neck rising.
“Where is Kristin?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly despite the panic beating at my chest. “You said she was in here.”