Garrett turned to his partner. “Find Ryker.”
“You got something?” Mike asked.
“Just find Ryker.”
Mike nodded and stepped back, pulling out his phone.
He looked to Colt and Sully. “Call Warren. Nowakowski. Find out if Walter Jones was FBI.”
“Jesus, Merry, you think—?” Colt started.
Garrett looked back at Susie. “You said his vehicle looked like a rental?”
She nodded. “I saw a decal. Didn’t see it clearly, but it didn’t say dealership. It said rental. Just didn’t see which company.”
Garrett turned to Colt. “Description matches, Colt.”
“I’ll call Nowakowski,” Sully murmured. “You call Warren.”
They pulled out their phones.
“Merry,” Mia whispered.
Hearing her repeat his name, he felt it snap. It was a twinge right at his heart, small but not insignificant, seeing as it reverberated through his frame, exploding in his brain.
Compelled by the explosion, Garrett turned to her and roared, “Not now, Mia!”
Her pale face turned ash.
“You love her,” she kept whispering.
“Jesus, fuck,” Garrett clipped, turning to put distance between himself and his ex, not to mention get to the goddamned car so he could look for his woman, doing this while ordering to a hovering Marty, “Get that bitch away from me.”
He could not go apeshit crazy. He had to keep it locked down. If he lost his mind, he couldn’t use it to find his woman. And when he found her, he’d be in no place to be there for her.
He had to lock it down.
“Uh…Mia, if you’d—” Marty started.
“I’m gonna go out and look for her.”
Garrett turned back at his ex-wife’s words.
“I’m gonna look for her,” she declared again.
She lifted her chin and caught hold of Susie’s hand.
Mia Merrick, spoiled rich girl, holding fucking Susie Shepherd’s hand, Susie being spoiled bitch girl.
“Me and Susie. Me and Susie are gonna go look for Cher,” she kept at it.
Susie yanked her hand away and looked down in disgust at Mia, demanding to know, “Have you lost your mind?”
Mia looked up at Susie. “You said you were sisters.”
Cher and Susie, sisters?
“We are, but I’m not doin’ shit with you. I got nothing to prove. And anyway, might be a good idea you let the people who know what they’re doing do it without you in the way,” Susie returned, and looked to Garrett. “Are we done?”
“Keep your phone close,” Garrett told her.
She nodded, glared at Mia, and stomped away.
“Well, I’m gonna look for her myself, then,” Mia declared.
“You impede this search, I swear to fuck—” Garrett started.
“I want to help,” she returned.
She wanted to make a point. She wanted to make a play.
And now was so not the time, it wasn’t fucking funny.
“Then how about you shut up and go home,” Mike asked, phone still to his ear, irate eyes on Mia.
She looked with surprise at Mike then to Garrett.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll just go home,” she decided hesitantly, watching Garrett closely.
“Good call,” Colt muttered.
She looked to Colt then again to Garrett.
She had no traction there, no support, no one giving any indication they thought there was anything left of Merry and Mia. Or that they even liked Mia, with or without Merry.
And she got not one thing from Garrett.
So finally, he got what he was expecting.
It was too much for her, she was giving up.
It was written all over her face. An expression he’d seen a lot over a lot of years and missed repeatedly.
He didn’t miss it then.
He just didn’t care.
“I just…I hope she’s okay, Merry,” she said.
“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away.
The minute he did, she was out of his head.
He moved as he bit out, “Mike.”
Mike looked his way. Phone still to his ear, he moved with Merry.
Garrett pulled out his phone and called his dad.
“Yo, Garrett, son,” Dave answered, talking quickly. “Ernie heard it. Tanner phoned me just after Ernie heard it. Tanner’s out. I’m out too. So’s Ernie and Spike. Don’t you worry. We’ll find that car.”
His father and his retired BPD cronies were not unwanted additions to the search.
But he needed something else.
“Shit gets around, Dad. It’s still early, school’s not out for a while, and I appreciate you lookin’ for Cher. But I need someone to deal with Ethan. Ethan and Grace.”
He stopped at the car and looked over the roof to see Mike still had his phone to his ear, but he beeped the locks.
“I’ll call Rocky,” Dave told him.
“Rocky’s in class.”
“She’ll sort somethin’ out, Garrett. You need men on the streets, not me holdin’ Grace’s hand.”
His dad was right.
He needed men on the streets.
He needed that car found.
He needed Cher found.
Fuck, his head hurt.
“Call Rocky, Dad,” he ordered as he yanked open the door and folded into the car.
“You got it, son.”
He was taking the phone from his ear to disconnect when he heard his father call his name.