Red Leather (Book 2)

Chapter 20

With control I hadn't even known I possessed, I swallowed down the brimming darkness and hatred I felt, pulling my lips into an apologetic gasp. "Oh Gosh, I'm sorry Zen. It's just... I am so, so worried, you know? I need to know how she's coping. If I were in her shoes, she would do the same for me," I looked down at my toes, finishing my cute little speech.

The hostility in her expression passed. Now she was only grumbling half-heartedly, scowling down at her arm. "Yeah, yeah, I get you. If my baby sister Emily ever had a boyfriend kill himself, I'd be banging down doors too."

I smiled encouragingly, hoping that she would finally be useful. On a regular day, I wouldn't have been so forceful – I would have approached Zenna with charm and ease, just as I did with everyone else. But I was at my wits end now, trying to find the only know person who had witnessed me in my true form and survived.

Chloe had to be eliminated. Immediately.

"Have you checked her house?" Zenna asked, deep in thought.

"Of course I have." Chloe's retired Supreme Court judge father was currently overseas, but I'd seen her mother walking along the street, minding her own business and not looking at all hassled or stressed. I made conversation almost daily, trying to draw out the whereabouts of her daughter. She, as equally politely as me, remained tight-lipped. All I managed to get was a simple, "She's taking time off for herself."

Zenna shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe she's with her grandmamma?"

"Her grandparents are dead," I stated flatly.

She pushed her palms out in defence. "Sorry, just a suggestion. Don't know her as well as you do."

"She's with a relative, then?" I asked so intently I think I may have chilled her to the bone.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Then what do you know?" I snapped irritably.

She sighed. "You know, Rhea, being all bitchy ain't gonna help you in any way."

I gritted my teeth. "Sorry. But thanks anyway. See you around."

Frankly, I'd had enough of her. Before she could reply, I had already made my way across the room, pushing the double glass doors open with my foot.

I spent the entire night sitting cross-legged in my partially empty childhood bedroom, scrounging the internet frantically for any clues that might lead me to Chloe Newman. She had gone so far as to delete her Facebook page, severing any form of contact she might have had to the life she'd left behind.

This wasn't just a holiday.

My few attempts at calling her were met with disappointment. She had disabled her phone, too. In a fit of rage, I grabbed a nearby box and threw it across the room, feeling satisfied at the loud crash it made.

Now it was time to search for her relatives. Finding her real estate uncle was easy; through the internet I'd managed to find his business number, personal number, a picture of his smiling face, and the address to his house. If there were any place to start, it would be there.

***

I used my remaining weekends to help Daddy pack, and soon we were making good time. By the time it was noon, most of the bathroom, laundry and living room had been cleared out. We stood side by side for a while, staring at the eerily empty space that I had watched TV in countless times.

The nostalgia was lost on me. But it hadn't been lost on Dad.

"I remember when you were little," he murmured, afraid of raising his voice lest the sentimental mood was broken. "You'd play with Sundae on the couch, then start screeching when he took one of your Barbie dolls and ran to bury it in the backyard."