Chapter Three

LOGAN

"Okay, thanks, Garrett."

"Please make sure you let me know if you find him."

Garret was the kind of guy who could still be worried over an ex who'd treated him horribly. Logan had to admire him.

"Yeah, I will, I promise. And same for you, obviously. I appreciate it. Bye." Logan tossed the phone to the couch and watched as Simon returned from answering the door with their dinner.

"You want to split the rolls?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Logan rubbed his face.

"How's your headache?" Simon set the bags on the coffee table and sat beside him. He began to rub Logan's shoulders. "You're as tight as a virgin."

Logan laughed. "You always did have a way with words." But he groaned with pleasure. "Damn, that feels good. I haven't had a real massage in ages."

"Well, take the time and book one. Or I might have to charge you."

Logan opened their sushi and handed Simon the chopsticks. "Here. Eat up."

"What did Garrett have to say?"

"Not much." He popped the roll into his mouth and chewed. Garrett had sounded shocked at Logan's news of Ryan's disappearance. Remi had informed Logan when he answered the phone that they hadn't heard from Ryan since he'd paid off the loan. "He and Remi haven't had any contact with Ryan aside from his satisfying the loan."

"Can I ask you something?"

Logan quirked a brow. "Do I have a choice?"

Simon picked up a roll. "How much did you give Ryan to pay off the loan to Remi?" Unblinking, Logan stared at him, and Simon ate his roll and threw down the chopsticks. "The whole shebang, right? Including the interest. Jesus, Logan. I can't…"

"Then don't," he said quietly.

They ate in silence and didn't speak again until Simon had cleared away the plastic trays and returned with a glass of Pinot Noir in each hand. Logan took one from him.

"Thank you." He sipped and let the warmth trickle through him.

"What's next?"

"You go home."

"And you?" Simon raised his brows.

"Me?" He took another sip. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

Simon's dark eyes locked on to his. "I think you're lying to my face, but you're going to do what you want no matter what I say."

"It's like you know me or something." Logan's lips twitched.

"I know you care about Ryan. So much so that it's tying you into knots."

"I care because he tried. He's got a job, and he wants to climb out of a hole that keeps caving in on him. He doesn't have the support we've always had."

A gentle smile tipped up Simon's lips. "So you'll give it to him, whether he asks for it or not."

He shrugged. "I don't think Ryan knows how to ask for help anymore. It's why I'm helping him now. I called his job and said he was sick and couldn't come to work."

Simon squeezed his shoulder. "You're a good man, Logan."

He smirked. "Don't go soft on me now. Come on. I'll walk you to the door."

True to his word, Logan did shower, but instead of bed, he changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and took off. When he reached the police precinct, anxiety swirled in his stomach, and he leaned against a lamppost to steady his breath. Gazing up at the stars, he wished he were a child again, lying in the park with his brother, daydreaming of building houses out of clouds and living in the sky. Castles in the air. Being older, Todd had always gone first and picked out the biggest and fluffiest clouds, but Logan had never minded. He'd worshiped Todd and followed him until Todd went to high school and met a whole new group of friends. Their game had ended because Todd became more interested in snow than clouds. His eyes burned.

Oh, Todd. What the hell went wrong? I should've tried harder, told Mom and Dad earlier. I'm sorry I failed you.

Several loops around the block settled his racing nerves, and he went into the station. The desk sergeant punched something into the computer and shook his head.

"Nothing's come up, Mr. Silver, but you can talk to the detective on the case, if you'd like. He's on shift tonight."

"I would, thanks."

"Take a seat, and he'll be out in a few."

He settled into an uncomfortable plastic chair and scrolled through his phone, figuring he'd be there for a while, but he didn't have long to wait.

"Mr. Silver?" He glanced up to see a slightly rumpled man with a gold shield clipped to his slacks. "I'm Detective Foster."

They shook hands. "I'd like to know what's happening on the Ryan Matson disappearance."

Foster huffed out a sigh. "Come with me, but I'm afraid it's going to be a short and uneventful visit for you." He was escorted to a room and sat on one side of a long metal table. "Coffee or water?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

The detective took a seat across from him. In his late thirties or early forties, Detective Foster looked as if he'd had more nights he'd like to forget than remember. His jaw was rough with late-night stubble, and his thick dark hair gleamed in the overhead light. A small scar bisected his upper lip, and his hands were large and powerful. The strong nose fit a handsome, craggy face. Thoughtful blue eyes regarded him.

"You and Mr. Matson were…close?"

Logan's lips thinned. "He lived with me."

"All right. And you say he walked out of the house after receiving a disappointing letter about his law license? Do you know what it said?"

"Yes. Ryan had a drug problem. He was arrested and disbarred."

Foster's tense shoulders relaxed. "Okay, that matches up with what I found in my investigation."

Logan's hackles rose. "Did you think I'd come here and lie to you?"

A surprisingly charming smile lit Foster's face. "Nah. Of course not. No one ever lies to the police, right?"

Logan chuckled, his anger receding. "Yeah, that was stupid of me. But I'm an attorney, an officer of the court." At Foster's arch of a brow, Logan conceded. "All right. Enough. I, personally, don't lie."

"Better. Okay, back to Mr. Matson. So you came home and found him gone?"

"Don't you have all this already?" Logan demanded, annoyed as hell that he had to reiterate everything. "I gave all the info on the missing person report."

"I know. Humor me. I didn't take the initial report." Foster waited.

Logan recounted every detail he could think of. "And that's it. I've been everywhere I thought he might be, in addition to places I'd hoped not to find him. I spoke to his ex, who hasn't heard from him either."

Foster set his pen on the table, still regarding him with those intent blue eyes. "Have you ever thought that he's gone because he'd rather be in that life than out of it? People who don't want to be found, usually aren't."

"Obviously. But Ryan was sober. He was happy…" The words died on his lips. Thinking about what Ryan's sponsor had said, that Ryan had rarely come to meetings, maybe he'd been lied to all along and was wrong about everything.

"Happy people don't run away, Mr. Silver." Foster read through his notes. "What about hospitals?"

"I called around but found no one matching his description."

"What credit cards does he have?"

"None. Ryan had to declare bankruptcy, so he doesn't have any—only a debit card. I don't have access to his statements."

Foster sighed and tapped his pen. "Have you checked outside the city? He used to live in Brooklyn, correct?"

Logan blinked. "Yeah. I-I didn't think of that. I'm not familiar with Brooklyn at all, and I wouldn't begin to know where to look for him."

Foster cracked a smile. "Lucky for you, I do. I'll widen the search there and see what I can come up with. But I'll say it again, even though you might not want to hear it. If he wanted you to know where he was, you would."

Tired of hearing that refrain, Logan lashed out. "Not if he's injured or dead." He rubbed his face. "I just need to know he's alive, and if he wants help, that I'm still here to give it." Foster remained silent, and Logan, unused to apologizing, realized he'd been rude as fuck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm extremely frustrated."

"I understand. And trust me, I've heard worse."

"I'm sure. Can I ask you, what have you done since I filed the report?"

Foster met his gaze with unflinching honesty. "Mr. Silver, my partner and I have two homicides and three attempted murders we're investigating. And those are the new cases this week for just the two of us. I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you by lying and telling you that your runaway friend is at the top of our list."

Logan bristled but kept his mouth shut. He didn't have to like it, but he understood.

"We'll increase our canvassing for Mr. Matson and speak to people he knew in his past. Aside from you, who else was he close to?"

"No one, except a guy from his addiction counseling group, Emerson Hogan. I think I gave you his number."

Foster checked. "Yeah, I have it. We spoke on the phone, but it can't hurt to pay him a visit." He closed the file, and Logan knew the meeting was over. There was little else the detective could do.

"I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. I know you're busy."

"We're always busy, Mr. Silver. Crime never takes a holiday. We'll be in touch."

"Thanks."

Logan walked out into the cool evening and meandered for several blocks, unwilling to sit at home and stare at the walls, wondering, again, what more he could've done to help Ryan. He spied a diner, and once inside, found a corner booth and ordered a coffee and piece of pie.

"What kind, honey?" The waitress glanced over her shoulder at the glass case in the front. "We got apple, cherry, banana cream, and my personal favorite, lemon meringue. Sweet and a little sour." She cackled. "Like me."

Logan grinned. "Well, since I'm more sour than sweet, I'll take the lemon meringue."

"You got it, honey. You want ice cream on the side?"

"No, I think the pie alone is enough of a sugar rush."

"Coming right up." She strolled away.

He sipped his coffee and ran over the events of the night. He doubted his meeting with the detective would lead to anything.

When a plate with a huge piece of pie was plunked down in front of him, he widened his eyes. "That's a lot of pie."

"You look like you need it, honey. Pie can always solve any problem." She patted a plump midsection. "Ask me how I know."

"You may be right," he admitted and slid a large forkful into his mouth.

"A nice-lookin' guy like you, in this crappy place on a Friday night? You got girl problems?"

The tangy pie exploded with flavor, and he chewed and swallowed before meeting her eyes with a half grin. "More like boy problems."

Her eyes danced. "Yeah? I shoulda known."

That set him off laughing. "And why's that?"

"You're too put together. All the best-dressed guys who come here are gay." She put a hand on her hip. "So what'd he do? Cheat on you? He's gotta be a dope."

His smile faded. "No. He and I…it's complicated. But it wasn't cheating. He just…left."

"Donna," the man behind the register yelled. "You got an order waiting. Quit your yakking."

She rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's funny."

"I don't want to get you in trouble." Logan frowned, but Donna winked.

"Don't you worry. That ain't about to happen. He's married to me. I'll be right back. But lemme say one thing. Anyone who walks out on a guy like you, he ain't right in the head. He needs a shrink."

Logan took another piece of pie and chewed, thinking about what she said. A shrink, huh? Maybe Donna was right. Logan pulled out his phone.

"Emerson? It's Logan Silver again."

"Hi." He sounded strained and cautious. "What do you want? Why are you calling me? I already told you what I know. Or don't."

Emerson spoke so fast, Logan's head spun. "Ryan is still missing. I'd like to know if you heard from him since we last talked."

"Why would I call you? Ryan's a grown man who makes his own decisions. I can't stay on the phone. I have things to do."

What the heck was going on with this guy?

"Wait. Do you know if Ryan was seeing a psychologist or a therapist?"

"I don't think…should I be sharing that with you? His medical records are confidential, aren't they?"

Stunned, Logan stared at the phone in his hand for a moment. "Are you serious? I'm trying to find Ryan, and you're worried about HIPPA? I'm not interested in what was said, but if he did have a therapist, maybe he might have some insight into where Ryan could be."

"I just don't think I can violate Ryan's privacy like that. I have to go."

He held a dead phone in his hand. "Shit," he swore and stared off into space. Why was Emerson so jumpy? He tried calling Dex, the sponsor, but it went to voice mail, and without leaving a message, he disconnected the call in frustration.

"Something wrong with the pie?"

"Hm?"

Donna stood in front of him. "You're not eating, and I know the pie's gotta be good. I make 'em myself."

"Yeah, uh, sure, it's great. I just have a lot on my mind. Just the check, please."

Donna slapped the receipt on the table. "Here ya go. And don't worry. He'll come back."

Logan handed her a twenty. "Keep the change. And I'm glad you're so certain."

"Thanks." She tucked the bill into her apron pocket. "Listen, I been around the block a coupla times. Guy like you—good-lookin', fancy clothes, and not a snob? That's hard to find. I bet he's younger than you too. He's not thinking. Sometimes you gotta lose what you got to find yourself."

Logan couldn't help smiling. "How do you know I'm not a snob?" God knew he'd been called a lot worse.

She pointed at the dingy diner. "Look where ya are. Ya think you're gonna find the crème de la crème comin' in here? Even if my pies are the best. Plus, you talked to me and didn't brush me off like those snoots in suits normally do."

Donna reminded him of his mother—plainspoken and no-nonsense. "Thanks, Donna." He patted her shoulder, and as he left, she called out to him.

"Bring him here next time. I'll set him straight aboutcha."

Logan raised a hand in acknowledgment, and once outside, decided to walk the half mile home and hunched his shoulders against the sudden brisk wind. Would Ryan have a place to sleep?

With each step, loneliness and pain welled up inside him. How did life get to this point, where he was the only one left of the four people who used to sit at the kitchen table, laughing at Dad's silly knock-knock jokes, while he and Todd would pretend-argue over who'd get the juicy end piece of Mom's roast beef?

He let himself into his apartment and sat in the darkness, staring out the window at the twinkling lights of the city. Somewhere out there, Ryan walked alone, convinced he wasn't good enough or worth Logan's time. Something didn't sit right about Emerson Hogan, and Logan decided it was time to pay the man a visit.