Page 15 of Caring for Cailin

“Something like that.” After another quick glance around the room, I ask, “Is she in the kitchen?”

She shakes her head. “No. She went out on a delivery run.” Then she frowns. “I feel like she’s been gone a long time. Maybe she got lost on the way.”

“A delivery run?” My voice rises. “Since when does Cailin do deliveries?”

Never, I thought. First off, because she’s a server. And secondly, she wouldnevervoluntarily drive to strangers’ houses. Not after what that piece of garbage Dario did to her.

“Our regular guy called in sick,” the hostess replies. She rolls her eyes, and her voice dips conspiratorially. “Hungover, is what I heard. And the other guy who does deliveries is on vacation.”

And now Cailin’s driving around,alone, knocking on strangers’ doors, probably scared out of her mind while she does it, and possibly getting lost in the process?

I don’t like it. At all.

“How long has she been gone?” I ask. “Why do you think she’s lost?”

The hostess—Regina, her name tag says—reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone. After a brief glance, she says, “I think she left around six. And—” She looks over at the bar. “Dillon. Do you remember when Cailin left?”

The man behind the bar turns his attention to her. “For the deliveries? I want to say six-ish.”

I look at my watch again. It’s eight-thirty-two. Which means Cailin’s been gone for over two hours.

Icy fingers trail up my neck. “How many deliveries was she doing?” I ask the bartender. “Do you know?”

“Two,” he replies. “I know because I’m the one who took the orders. One right off Baker, and another out by Rivergrove.”

“Two deliveries? And she’s been gone for over two hours? Has anyone spoken to her?”

“It got really busy,” Regina answers defensively. “And with Cailin gone, we were a server down. I don’t think anyone realized?—”

“That anything could have happened to her?” My jaw clenches. “A young woman out on her own, approaching strangers’ houses…”

Shit. What if Cailin had a panic attack? What if someone hurt her? What if some predator saw a beautiful young woman and decided to take her?

I yank out my phone and dial her number.

Answer,I plead silently.Tell me you’re lost. That you got scared. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.

But it just goes to voicemail.

I call again. It does the same.

Then I send off a flurry of texts.

I’m at the restaurant and they said you went on a delivery run. Are you okay?

Where are you?

Call me. I’m worried.

Two minutes pass without any response.

Two torturous minutes as my panic grows.

Since the bartender seems to know more than Regina, I hurry over to him. “Where were the deliveries?” I bark. “I need the addresses.”

“I can’t tell you that,” he starts. “You’re just a customer, and?—”

“I’m not just a customer.” I pin him with thedo as I sayglare I perfected in the Army. “I’m Cailin’s friend. She’s been gone far too long to make two deliveries. Something’s wrong. And I intend to find out what it is.”