Dear Diary (Love, Daddy)

Chapter 21

Jackson

“How the fuck did someone get through security with fuel?”

“I’m not sure sir. We don’t have footage of whoever it was entering through the front doors.” The head of security, Jeffrey Smith, sweats profusely. He's red and shaking. And I don’t pity the guy. I'm pissed.

My mood isn’t being helped because I can’t reach Chastity. I’ve called and texted but she’s not responding.

“This is un-fucking-acceptable.” I’m standing next to his desk as he’s shown me the footage of Chastity leaving but I still can’t concentrate until I know she’s safe which I won’t know for sure until I talk to her. Why did she leave in the middle of the day? Right before the fire?

My head is spinning already but there’s a lot of question marks making things worse. The sprinkler system quelled the fire before it could get too far but the smoke and fumes will make a majority of the office space unusable for the foreseeable future.

There are firefighters upstairs working and investigating but Jenson and his team are dealing with them.

Jesus Christ, if Chastity doesn’t message or call me back in the next ten seconds, I’m going to lose my mind.

“So, everyone is accounted for, correct?” I ask, looking at my phone then hit the call button again as it starts to ring.

“Yes, Mister Carter.”

I'm scanning the large screens as CCTV footage is played back for me, listening as her phone rings but no answer again.

Looking at the screens for any sort of clue as to what happened with the fire. I don’t know exactly what I'm looking for. But I’ll know when I see it.

And then, there it is.

“Pause that.” I lean closer to the screen. “That’s not me. Fucking looks just like me though.”

Jeffrey looks at me weirdly. “Sir? That is you…sorry but you’re easy to spot.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. The camera still is clear. That is me. To all intents and purposes, he’s right. But, I know it’s not. That gold watch peeks through the shirt cuffs, clear and shining in the picture as whoever this imposer is pulls a worn brown suitcase with him.

I look at Jeffrey. “I hate gold watches. And I don’t have a suitcase like that.” I hold my arm up for him to see the leather banded Timex on my wrist. A gift from my father when I graduated high school.

He's scratching his head as we watch a few minutes more. We switch camera a few times, then I watch the entryway playback of fifteen minutes later and I see her.

My heart thunders as I spot Chastity. She's adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder and carrying a black trash bag in her other hand, leaving the office building minutes before the fire started.

Jensen Harold already told me that, but as I watch her, I see the imposter me appear behind her. Watching her. Following her.

“What the fuck…” I glare at the screen, my chest tightening.

I bolt out the door, my feet slipping on the marble floor as I make my way out of the office building. I curse at myself for not getting the tracking app on her phone installed by now. If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of my limo, I yank the door shut and hit the gas, leaving Clancy standing there gape-mouthed. The car tires screech, the car skids before gaining traction and speeding forward. A Bentley limo isn’t exactly designed for high-speed chases, but it’s better at it than ninety percent of any other cars out there.

That man on the CCTV footage was following Chastity, I’m sure of it.

And I can’t believe I didn’t think of this possibility. For a man who was hell-bent on pretending to be me and ruining my goddamned life, why didn’t I expect that he would attack the one thing I love most in the world?

Who could possibly look so much like me? A long-lost cousin? A doppelganger? Plastic surgery? My head is throbbing, trying to put the pieces together, but there’s really only one thing that matters to me in this moment.

I slam my palm into the steering wheel as I barrel through traffic. My pulse racing the entire drive then I finally screech to a stop in front of my private elevator in the parking garage.

A few seconds later, I punch in my code and the elevator lurches upward. I clench my fists ready to unleash an epic fury on someone’s ass if I find Chastity hurt.

The elevator doors slide open.

Silence.

My throat tightens as I see her worn leather duffel bag on the floor of the foyer, a few of her clothing items spilling out from the side.

Why was she packing a bag?

I see Chastity’s phone on top of the duffel. I reach down, grab and unlock it, seeing the twenty-five calls from my number and all the text messages. But, there’s more.