Without You

43. The Truth Hurts

Ant finally nodded, sighing heavily. "Which way did the lil bugger go?"

Pressing Ant back into the cushions when he moved to get up, Linda shook her head at him, smiling softly. "I'll go, Ant, you need a little break." When Ant looked ready to protest, Linda insisted, "I'll be fine, honest. His Scrappy Doo mode, as you call it, doesn't scare me. I've seen worse. And I'm nearly as big as him, anyway, the little squirt," she giggled, eyes lighting up when her teasing words elicited a halfhearted grin from Ant.

"Now you just sit back and relax for a few, all right? Have a biscuit, do some deep breathing, clear your mind. I'll be back with your little friend in tow after a bit, promise."

And with that, with her heart in her throat, Linda hurriedly made her way out of the room, wondering what on earth she was going to find. It had been several minutes since he'd stormed off now, and she had no idea where he'd gone. She supposed it would be a matter of checking all the rooms on the right side of the house, since that was the direction he'd stomped off in...

Things were going a bit pear-shaped at the moment, she had to admit. Dec really did have quite a temper, and it was more than clear that he was stressed to the hilt, despite presumably having the last three weeks or so off work. And Ant certainly wasn't helping. Yet she couldn't blame him for reacting badly. He was still struggling, too, and Dec's anger was very raw and unfiltered. It had to hurt.

Making her way through the kitchen, Linda made sure to check every corner, guessing she'd find Dec curled up in a ball somewhere since that's what he always seemed to do when he was upset. Nothing there.

Realizing it was a bit of a larger house than she'd thought when the kitchen opened onto a hallway with several doors branching off of it, she sighed, anxiety filling the pit of her stomach. She didn't like leaving Ant alone right now, she could tell he was really quite distraught after everything that had been revealed so far today, but Dec needed her, too. This joint counselling thing was proving a bit more difficult than she'd thought it would be – her fee didn't cover searching through houses for distraught presenters!

Poking her head into a couple of children's bedrooms – feeling very much like an intruder – Linda still found no sign of the man who clearly was intent on hiding himself away. Stepping across the hall to a partially closed door, Linda stopped suddenly, her heart giving a jolt. What was that?

There was another one. A teeny tiny sniffle, so quiet she could barely hear it. But it had to be him.

Quietly pushing open the door, Linda nearly flicked the light switch on in the darkened room before thinking better of it. Best not to startle him. Her eyes adjusting to the dark, she moved forward, eyes sweeping over the contents of the room. It appeared to be a home office, with a large desk and ergonomic office chair featuring prominently against the back wall. But Dec wasn't sitting in the chair. He was still hidden from sight somewhere, assuming he was even in here.

Moving towards the other side of the room, where a heavy metal filing cabinet was pressed up against the wall, Linda peered 'round the other side of it. What was that in the corner? A bean bag chair? Quite possible, since it seemed Anne-Marie had a couple of young daughters.

Not a sound was heard. It seemed that, if Dec was in here, he'd clocked her presence and was trying his hardest to remain hidden, silent, unfound. Wait, had that been a glint of something shiny? Why would there be something shiny on a bean bag chair – perhaps it was a glitter patch? Yes, that must be it. Bling.

Creeping closer, Linda crouched down, nearly falling backwards when she came face to face with a crumpled up Declan Donnelly, deadened, pain-filled eyes staring up at her unblinkingly.