Chapter 8

Grateful to Sarah for taking charge, Bryan followed her to Marshall Park a couple blocks away. If he didn't busy himself with something, he knew he'd be sitting at Wyatt's wallowing in his guilt.

As they walked down the street, his phone rang and he jumped, grabbing it from his pocket. Both he and Sarah anxiously looked at the screen with hope flooding them.

His mom.

Damn. He felt Sarah deflate a bit next to him as he answered. "Hi, mom."

"Hi, honey. How are you?" Her sweet voice soothed him slightly.

"Not great, mom," he admitted.

"Oh, what's wrong, sweetie?"

"Wyatt didn't come home last night or today."

"Oh, oh, Bryan. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" He wished she could hold him and promise him that it would all be okay like she used to when he was little.

He laughed off his heartache. "Yeah, you could tell me where to find Wyatt."

Obviously, his joke didn't go over well with his mother as she was silent for a few moments. "You know I don't know where—"

"Yes, mom, I know. It was a joke."

"Oh, of course. You know I would tell you if I did. Maybe he's just—"

"Did you need something, mom? I'm a little... busy right now," he interrupted, feeling a little irritated at her rambling. He was sure she was probably going to tell him again how Wyatt just needed time, how he'd had doubts about their marriage, and Bryan really wasn't in the mood to hear it again. Even though his brain and instincts told him Wyatt would never just take off without at least a note or text, there was still a tiny part of his brain niggling at him wondering if Wyatt had taken off in panic.

"Oh, yes, of course, I'm sorry. I just wanted to let you know there was mail for you in the manor's mailbox this morning." Bryan frowned as she continued. "Simon found it when he got the mail today."

"Mail? From who?" He occasionally still got mail from old contacts that still had his parents' address for him. His old schools would send reunion information all the time.

"It doesn't say, sweetheart. Just has your name on it, but the manor's address. It's one of those big brown envelopes. Feels like it has something in it. I thought I'd bring it by later but wanted to make sure you'd be home."

"Oh, well," Bryan's mind wasn't worried about some piece of mail that had been sent to his old address. "I'll come by and get it at some point."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I can tell you're busy. I'll just bring it by later," she insisted.

"Fine," Bryan conceded, he really didn't care right now. He was about to tell her bye when Sarah nudged his side.

"Ask her what cab company took Wyatt home yesterday," Sarah whispered. "We can call them and see where they dropped him off."

Damn, he hadn't thought of that. Thank God for Sarah. "Hey, mom, what cab company took Wyatt home yesterday?"

"What?" she seemed startled by the abrupt change in topic.

"The cab company. Which one took Wyatt home?"

"Oh, um, it was Yellow Cabs."

"Thanks, mom."

"Okay, honey, I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too."

He hung up, shoving the phone back in his pocket. "Yellow Cab," he told Sarah.

"Okay, well, once we're done here, maybe we can call them and see if they'll tell us anything," the little red-head said, her chin lifted as she faced him, determination etched on her high cheekbones.

Bryan smiled slightly. Having a plan helped both of them focus on the here and now, and not on the what-ifs.

They scanned the park as they approached. It was really busy today, being a Saturday as well as the beautiful blue skies and cool breeze keeping it from being sweltering. Sarah peeled off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist now that they were in the sun. Her teal tank top hugged her torso and Bryan knew she'd drawn the attention of a few onlookers.

"Let's head over to the skate park," he suggested. "If anybody saw him, some of his students probably did."

She nodded, a few strands of her auburn hair framing her face. "Yeah, that's what I thought too."

A few minutes later, they found themselves scanning the bleachers and the kids waiting for a turn at the ramps, looking for someone they might recognize. There were quite a few teens out today, not surprisingly since it was the last weekend before the end of spring break.

"Any ideas who to ask first?" Sarah nudged, jumping into him when one kid whisked by down the sidewalk next to them.

He was shaking his head. They all seemed to look the same to him. He was about to give up and just start asking the nearest person when he spotted a familiar Mohawk on the other side of the bleachers. Scanning the faces near the kid, he recognized a few of them from the day he'd proposed. They were the kids that had come over to congratulate them. Maybe they were here pretty often and had seen Wyatt yesterday, or God-willing, even today.

He strode through the crowd of teens with Sarah following. "Hey," he greeted as he approached.

Several of them looked up with an annoyed frown at first, apparently finding an adult talking to them irritating, but recognition quickly lit several of their faces.

"Oh, hey, you're Mr. Kinnon's man," one greeted.

"Yeah, I'm Bryan Foxgrove. You guys were here the day I proposed."

They laughed. "Yeah," a long-haired teen smiled, holding out his hand. "I'm Marc. That's Greg, Nick, Stuart and Alex." They all nodded greetings."

"This is Sarah Demchik," Bryan introduced. "She's Wyatt's, err, Mr. Kinnon's best friend."

A chorus of 'hey's and grunted nods, as well as a couple appreciative perusals greeted Sarah's wave.

"We were wondering if you'd seen Mr. Kinnon yesterday or today?" Bryan finally asked.

They seemed a bit surprised by the question, but Marc nodded. "Yeah, we saw him yesterday. Why?"

For a moment, Bryan felt his heart unclench with hope. "When did you see him?"

"Yesterday morning, maybe around eleven," Alex said. The boys all glanced between themselves briefly.

"Might of been later," Greg added. "We were waiting on Stuart. He was late, as usual."

"Hey!" Stuart protested.

Eleven. That would have been before Wyatt had met with his mother. Shit. That didn't help.

"Yeah." Marc nudged Nick next to him. "Remember, we were waiting and that guy started hasslin' Mr. Kinnon..."

"Yeah, what a jerk." Nick scrunched up his nose.

"Dude was—"

"Wait, wait." Bryan finally caught onto what they were saying. "What are you talking about?"

"Some dark-haired dude grabbed Mr. Kinnon's arm. Looked like they were arguing," Alex said.

Bryan and Sarah exchanged surprised, worried glances.

"Do you know who it was? Can you describe him?" Bryan pressed.

Nick and Greg shrugged. "He was taller, dark hair, maybe black. Kind of... I don't know... darker skin."

"Yeah," Alex agreed, "kind of like that guy."

Bryan looked over to where he pointed, noting a teen of Italian heritage. His heart thudded as he began to realize who they might be describing. Fuck, had Wyatt had another run-in with Darrin Roque? Could he have something to do with Wyatt being missing?

Bryan looked over at Sarah. "Sounds like Darrin."

Her face fell. "Crap."

"Yeah!" Marc exclaimed suddenly. "That's what Mr. Kinnon called him—Darrin."

Sarah shifted nervously on her feet, her hopeful facade crumbling. "We need to go to the police now."

The boys' eyes widened. "Police? Why? Is something wrong?"

Bryan debated telling the boys anything, but maybe if they knew what was going on, they could keep an eye out. "Wy—Mr. Kinnon didn't come home last night. We haven't seen or heard from him since yesterday afternoon when he left my mom's."

"Oh, shit," Alex gasped, and Bryan had the strange urge to correct his language like Wyatt would have done.

Wyatt. His mind raced now with thoughts of what Wyatt's asshole of an ex could be doing. Images of his love being beaten, hurt, crying out in pain flooded his mind. He tried not to think about other things Darrin might be capable of. If the man was that delusional and possessive, what lengths would he go to keep Wyatt away from Bryan?

"I've got to go," Bryan said, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

The boys all clamored to offer their help. "I'll call my dad, see what he can do," Marc called out as Bryan turned away.

"Thanks," Bryan acknowledged the offer, but other than keeping an eye out there wasn't much anyone else could do. Sarah was right on his heels as he hurried away back to his car.

He didn't care right now about the 48 hour threshold for filing a report. Knowing Darrin had accosted Wyatt earlier, obviously having had an argument, put things in a whole new perspective. Wyatt hadn't just had some random accident nor he was possibly the victim of a mugging or something equally arbitrary. He'd been targeted.

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Wyatt shivered again. God, he was freezing. He couldn't fight the chill creeping from the cold floor through his bare skin. He'd eventually shouted himself hoarse and given up hoping hours ago that someone, even Darrin, would come down.

He had finally curled up as tight as he could to conserve what little warmth his body had. With the cold and adrenaline-fueled fear sapping his energy, he knew he'd drifted off at some point, even with his mind fighting to stay awake.

He didn't know what Darrin had in mind, maybe trying to break him down, make him beg, promise to stay with him. At that moment, he'd agree to anything just to get the hell out of there. He figured when Darrin released him from the damn shackles, probably hoping to fuck him, maybe he could figure a way to escape. Darrin was stronger than he was, but he wasn't really that bright. How Darrin had gotten away with knocking him out and kidnapping him like this was beyond him.

Sooner or later he'd have to come. While Wyatt had made use of the bucket a while ago, the one little bottle of water wasn't going to last long. He could already feel hunger gnawing at his stomach. How long had it been since he'd eaten? A day maybe?

He heard the turning of a doorknob, and his body tensed. A faint light shone high up at the far end of the room where a door had obviously opened at the top of a set of stairs. Wyatt's breath caught in his throat now that the moment of facing his kidnapper loomed over him. As he took in the heavy boots of the man standing at the top of the stairs, he wondered what Darrin was waiting for.

"Darrin, come on, man, what the hell are you doing this for?" he called, hoping to reason with his ex.

The boots stomped hesitantly down the steps. The light from the doorway was horribly faint, and Wyatt couldn't make out Darrin's face. He'd hoped to get a read on what the man was thinking. But as the figure reached the bottom of the creaking steps, Wyatt could barely make out the hulking form.

"Darrin?" he heard himself squeak out, but even as he said it, he knew.

A new terror shot down his spine.

This man wasn't his ex.

And that changed everything.