“Did she?”
“Nope. She had her number changed, blocked my email and unfriended me, too.”
“Even though she communicated with you in secret for all those years?”
“Because Tanner didn’t know then. She wasn’t really crossing him until he knew and I’m sure he expressly forbade it. You have no idea how convincing my brother can be.”
“Is that when you found out she was a stripper?”
“No. Talia told me what she was doing. That’s why she couldn’t petition for custody and let me come live with her. Because child services would never have approved her for my guardian. She wanted me to know she wasn’t ditching me. That she loved me and would take me if she could.”
It seemed to Sedona that Tatum had tried to look at other avenues to make a good life for herself. To fix her problem.
Without success.
That was going to change.
Tanner Malone wasn’t just dealing with a fifteen-year-old girl anymore. He had Sedona Campbell to contend with now.
For better or worse.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TANNER WAS OUT in the furniture barn, looking under an old claw-foot couch that Tatum had wanted to move into the living room. She couldn’t possibly fit under it, but—because he was out of his mind with worry—he had to look everywhere. He hit his head when his cell phone rang. It was Detective Morris.
“The boyfriend repeated that she messaged him this morning. And as he told you, she said she loved him. He also admitted, when we told him we could trace deleted Facebook posts, that she told him she was leaving but wouldn’t tell him where she was going so he wouldn’t get in trouble.”
His heart sped up. And dropped. Tatum had left? Without taking any of her things? Where could she have been going? Harcourt had to have made some provisions for her, given her someplace to hang out....
“We know she got on a bus.” Morris’s voice was all business. And Tanner’s heart rate escalated again. “Heading toward Santa Raquel beach. We’ve spoken with the driver. He told us where she got off.” The detective named an intersection he could place, but wasn’t all that familiar with. It was easily twenty miles from the vineyard that was situated halfway between Santa Raquel and Santa Barbara. “Do you have any idea why she’d get off there? Is there someone she knows in the area? Someplace you used to go?”
“No. I... We’ve never been there. I have no idea....”
He tried to remember, forcing his throbbing head to work overtime. Had Tatum attended a birthday party in Santa Raquel, maybe?
“She loves to go to the beach,” he said, for lack of any better ideas.
And there were a handful of them a hell of a lot closer than Santa Raquel. Besides, Tatum knew better than to go to the beach alone.
“We’ve got officers canvassing the area,” Morris told him. “Someone has to have seen her.”
He was beginning to think more clearly. He headed to the truck, about to get to know that unfamiliar neighborhood really well. “Was she alone?”
“As far as we can tell. The driver said she was the only person to board the bus about a mile from your place.”
He knew the stop. Little more than a bench on a country corner. How in the hell had Tatum gotten there?
Harcourt. He had to have taken her. Had to know where she was.
“He said there was an older woman who got off when she did, but they didn’t seem to know each other and went in opposite directions. She didn’t fit the description of a druggie or a homeless person and he didn’t recognize her from the picture you had of your mother.”
Tatum didn’t know any other older women that he was aware of. “Harcourt’s got to be meeting her later tonight. When he can get away without anyone noticing.”
“We’ve spoken with his parents. He won’t be getting out of their sight tonight.”
“So if she’s waiting for him someplace, she’s going to be alone in the dark.” He wasn’t sure which was worse, Tatum alone with Harcourt all night or out by herself.
Or with Tammy.
He feared that the lesser of two evils was the young man he’d banned her from seeing.
In his truck, driving toward the main road, Tanner said, “Can we call them and have them give him his freedom? Just in case. He could lead us to her.”
“I’ll give them a call,” Morris said, not sounding happy about the prospect. “But if they don’t want their son used as bait, I can’t blame them.”
Tanner could, though. If not for their corrupt son, Tatum and Tanner would still be okay, sitting at home, ignoring each other.
Ringing off, he pushed the pedal to the floor, determined to make twenty miles in fewer minutes than that.
* * *
“WE’RE GOING TO have to let the police know where you are.” Sedona needed a lot more answers. And had no more time. “They’re wasting valuable dollars searching for you.”
The eyes that looked over at her were filled with fear. And resignation, as well. It was a look far too mature for a fifteen-year-old girl to be wearing. “They’re going to send me home with Tanner,” she said, without a hint of a whine. “This will all be for nothing.”
“If Tanner’s hitting you I can ask for an emergency order to have you kept away from him, at least until the state has time to investigate your allegations.”
“I told you, I’m not going to report him to the police.”
A response that wasn’t all that unusual in domestic situations where the abused also loved their abusers.
“You’re a minor, Tatum. And you told me about it. I’m legally obligated to report it.”
“I’ll just deny having told you. Or I’ll say I lied. I thought this was a safe place. Where I could come and just tell someone here and have a place to stay until I can get settled on my own.”
“You’re fifteen. You not only have to finish high school, but you’re under your brother’s guardianship. He’s legally responsible for you.”
“I’m not reporting him.” Tatum crossed her arms, her face set.
“Why not? If he’s hurting you, he needs help, Tatum.”
Her gaze darting around the subtly lit garden, Tatum straightened, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder. “It’ll be my word against his,” she said. “I don’t have any proof. It’s not like I took pictures. Or even told anyone. They’re going to think I’m just a fifteen-year-old kid who’s mad at him because he won’t let me be with my boyfriend.”
Sedona couldn’t deny the possibility. She’d already thought of it and had to be straight with her client. Even though, technically, Tatum couldn’t be her client without her brother’s, or the court’s, approval.
“Is that what’s happening here?”
“No!” Tatum’s eyes widened and she faced Sedona squarely. “I’m pissed at him about Del, yes, but I’m not just a spoiled kid who can’t take no for an answer. I’m here to find answers.”
“What kind of answers?”
Tatum sat back. “You know, about what someone does when they’re a victim of domestic violence.”
Tatum could be playing them. She could just be saying the right words.