Page 133 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

I don’t answer, simply slide my car to the next lane to change my route into the other direction.

“What’s going on?” Jake's voice is instantly without humor as he realizes that something is wrong and that I’m not playing around here.

“The police think that her ex might have been the one to cause the accident on site.”

“What? How?”

“They found a gift card belonging to him next to the excavator.”

“Fuck.” He swore. “Sam, call Chelsea right now.”

“Don’t bother. I already tried, and it went to voicemail. I’m on the way there right now. You guys should come out.”

“On our way.” The urgency in his tone reflects the one rifling through me.

The same urgency has me making the eight-minute drive last only five minutes, with some seconds to spare.

I jog up the stairs to the apartment and spot Sam and Jake pulling in as I start banging on the door.

“Chelsea!” I say. “Chelsea, are you in there?”

“Coming,” a groggy female voice calls out, and when the door opens, it’s Jenna peering up at us, wiping drool from the side of her mouth.

“Hey,” she croaks, clearing her throat, “What up?”

“Is Chelsea in there?”

“Uh, she should be." She glances behind her. "Her phone’s here. It's charging."

"Mind if I check it out?”

"Sure." She steps aside, and I hear Sam and Jake barreling up behind me, but I push into the home.

"Chelsea!" I head to the bedroom, throwing the door open, then the bathroom. "Chelsea?"

"She's not here," Jake says, his voice hard, without its usual humor. "Adam, she's not here."

"Maybe she just went for a walk," Jenna says. "Why? What's wrong?"

"We think Eric might have tried to kill me," Jake says. "And we think he might be stalking Chelsea."

I expect her to laugh or express disbelief at first.

But instead, her face turns thoughtful.

"Actually, now that I think about it," she says. "I think while I was asleep, I heard her having a conversation. I thought I was dreaming at first, but..."

"What conversation?" I demand, my heart racing. "Conversation with who?"

She stares up at me with a growing horror. "I think it was Eric."

43

CHELSEA

Istare down at the barrel of the gun, blinking as my brain struggles to make sense of what's happening.

My gaze trails up to the person holding it, the pieces forming an incomprehensible puzzle.