With Meems’s promise to get started right away, Travis and Meredith made their way to her front door and inside.
Meredith’s damp, wrinkled clothes clung to her skin, and she clenched her teeth from the chill in the house thanks to the low setting she’d left the thermostat on this morning. She had to get out of her clothes. Shower and warm up.
Wash away the horror from that horrible house.
“I’m going to shower,” she said and slowly headed up the stairs. Defeat making her feet feel like they each weighed fifty pounds.
Underneath the showerhead a few minutes later, she closed her eyes. Letting the water run down her face, along her back, washing away the filth and the stench of death that clung to her. Soothing her with its constant rhythm.
She didn’t know how long she stood under there, but Travis’s knock on the door pulled her out of whatever trance she’d been in.
“You okay?” he called.
He opened the door when she didn’t immediately respond, something she’d normally rail at him for. Right now, she didn’t have the energy. She was still considering his question.
Was she okay?
The question touched on something that she’d been ignoring for too long.
No. She sure as hell wasn’t okay.
Even before Darcy had stepped into that club and disappeared, throwing Meredith’s carefully ordered life into chaos, she hadn’t been okay.
No, she’d been lonely. And if she was honest, filled with self-loathing. Unable to stop the course her life had taken, starting as far back as… God. She didn’t even know anymore.
But she did know that as of this moment, she wanted—no, needed—to be a different person. A person people liked. Wanted to be with. Someone worth caring for. Someone whom Darcy would be able to love and care for.
And, being honest, maybe even someone whom a man like Travis would find worth caring for.
She took in a deep breath. “I’m okay, Travis.” Or she hoped she would be.
“We need to talk when you’re done.”
She turned her head, letting the water pound against her neck and shoulders. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She opened her eyes and saw Travis’s silhouette through the steam and the frosted glass of her shower door. He was facing her, and for a moment she wondered how much of her he could see. Before she could turn away in modesty, though, he was gone, the door quietly clicking behind him.
And she was alone again.
Only now, instead of the sadness and defeat she’d been reveling in, she was driven with a new emotion as she lathered up, washing her hair and body, and finished her shower. She needed to know what Travis’s plan was. Their plan. How they were going to find Darcy.
Quickly towel drying her hair, Meredith wrapped her white terry robe around her and opened the door. Travis was seated in the teal upholstered chair next to the window seat, a laptop opened in front of him.
He looked up as she entered. His face was cautious as he studied her. “You’re sure you’re doing okay?”
“Considering everything we’ve been through tonight and that I still don’t know where the hell my daughter is, I would say I’m doing pretty well.”
She crossed the room and perched on the end of the window seat. Now that the numbness had finally worn off, she had questions. Lots of questions, but first she started with the most important one. “Do you think Darcy’s okay?”
He nodded, and for the first time she noticed the bruise swelling under his eye, the raw and puffy knuckles on his right hand. The dark shadows under his eyes. “From what I gather, she’s too valuable to risk any injury. She should be safe—at least until this sale.”
She stared at her toes, the dark fuchsia paint that was chipped in a few areas. Travis had already explained to her about the so-called sale, or auction, that was coming up tomorrow—or tonight, she supposed was more accurate, since it was already, technically, early Saturday morning. And that the only reason they hadn’t found Darcy downstairs with the others likely had something to do with the fact she was inexperienced. A virgin.
Thanks to men like those the police had hauled away tonight—either to the police station or under police escort to the hospital—and kids like Matt and countless others, young girls were treated like nothing more than property. Like animals.
“I could kill that kid. And every one of them.” She thought about how the moment she’d entered the club, she’d felt like a piece of meat. Watched. “And that club we went to? It wasn’t much better. Tonight, upstairs, there was a guy near the back in a black suit. Gave me the creeps. The way he watched me was unnerving.”
Travis nodded. “His name’s Ayman. He’s involved, but from what Matt explained, he isn’t in charge. We’ll have to see what Meems uncovers for us in the morning. Maybe a name or a corporation. Something. Because those guys already told me everything they know, I’m sure of it.”