I read the caption: dancing the night away.
Huh?
I flick through to Bob’s Facebook page and scroll down. Sure enough, he’s posted a pic of himself getting on a plane, with the caption Florida here I come.
What?
I immediately dial his number. It rings out, and I call again.
“Hello,” he answers groggily in a very hungover voice.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Florida.”
“Where are the boys?” I snap.
“Huh?”
“Where are the boys?”
“What do you mean? They canceled and said they couldn’t go. I came here with my buddies.”
I sit up in bed. “Bob, they’re not here. I haven’t seen them since Friday morning.”
“What?”
“I thought they were with you?” I cry.
“I thought they were with you!” he cries back.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as my eyes widen.
“What?”
“They’ve run away, Bob.”
“Holy fuck, call the police.”
Chapter 25
Tristan
I sit out on the balcony of my hotel room in Paris. I just got back from the hotel gym and am going in to the office this afternoon. I’m still working on the due diligence for Anderson Media. I want the deal closed early this week if possible.
The sooner I move on to new things, the better. I need to drag myself off the floor here. I can’t go on like this.
I just want it over with.
My room phone rings, and I frown. Who would be calling me in the hotel? Nobody ever does. I walk inside and answer. “Bonjour.”
“Mr. Miles?”
“Oui.”
“Vous avez des visiteurs.” (Translation: You have some visitors.)
I frown. “Qui est-ce?” (Translation: Who is it?)