Claimed Darker by Em Brown

Chapter 46

DARREN

Past

Ihated the way my call ended with Bridget. She had a legitimate reason to be upset with me. I had no reason to be upset with her, but I was anyway. I felt guilty and angry with myself, and I took it out on her. My reaction on the call was that she should have believed me when I told her nothing had happened. Or she shouldn’t have assumed anything was wrong just because of a few lousy photos taken when I was inebriated. I was an asshole.

As soon as we had hung up, I had thought about calling back to apologize, but she had said she wanted to study. And I thought maybe she would be more receptive to my apology after a night’s sleep.

It’s past midnight in Hong Kong, which means it’s just after eight in the morning California time. I give her a call from my hotel room but get no answer. Again. I had called Bridget earlier today, at the time I said I would call, but she didn’t pick up. I tried again a few times before it got too late for her. Did she forget I was going to call? I wondered. That’s not like her. Maybe she decided to go to bed early before her finals, but she would have at least texted me.

Unless she was still fuming about the photos Kimberly showed her. JD had admitted to sending her the pics, including one of me with Mei Ling, the niece of one of the Vanguards. She had come on strong to me, and I made the mistake of humoring her at the beginning. It only emboldened her. I connected with her afterward to apologize for my behavior and explain I wasn’t myself and that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Why would you do that?” I’d asked JD about the pics after my call with Bridget.

“I don’t know,” JD had replied. “I do stupid shit when I’m plastered.”

I let it go because I’m the one who fucked up. Feeling the stress of filling my father’s shoes and making a good impression, I drank more than I had intended that night. At one point, I had even misplaced my phone, which I never lose track of. Turned out JD was messing around with it. Said he was looking to see if I had a photo of Bridget’s ugly sweater to show Mei Ling, who recently launched her own fashion line.

Maybe Bridget would stop feeling suspicious of other women if I told her how I really felt about her? That I can’t imagine being with anyone else. That I want her to be the mother of my children. Pregnancy never struck me as sexy. Until Bridget. The thought of her carrying my child is sexy as hell. I’ve never wanted that with anyone before.

I dial her a second time and still no answer. Could she be ghosting me? Or maybe she woke up late and is rushing to get to her finals. I think she has at least one early final.

I’ve never wanted to apologize so badly in my life. I need to patch things up with Bridget. I’ve been distracted all day thinking about her. Why won’t she answer the fucking phone?

I text her to call me and wish her luck on her finals.

I skip going out tonight and wake up early to try Bridget again. It would be mid-afternoon her time. No answer. And no text. What the fuck is going on?

Today I have a meeting with the printing guys, then lunch with JD.

“Have you talked to Amy recently?” I ask JD when I sit down at the restaurant table.

“No. Why?” JD asks as he reviews the menu.

“I can’t get ahold of Bridget. She hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts.”

“Aren’t the girls studying for finals?”

“Not every second of the day. Can you call Amy for me?”

“Right now?”

“It’s around eight pm their time.”

JD gets out his phone and tries Amy. No answer.

“Maybe they’re out celebrating that they’re done,” he says, going back to the menu. “Fuck me. I can’t read this. All I know is that this character means beef and this one means rice.”

My Chinese reading abilities are no better. Although I’ve retained some of the speaking language, I haven’t kept up with reading or writing.

“Ask for the English menu,” I tell JD. “When was the last time you texted or spoke with Amy?”

“I texted her to let her know when I arrived. That’s about it. I didn’t want to disturb her while she was busy studying.”

His answer surprises me. He’s usually not that considerate.

“Stop worrying,” JD says after telling the waitress to bring an English version of the menu and two bottles of Tsingtao. “It’s not like Bridget’s cheating on you or anything. She knows she’s got a good thing.”

The thought of Bridget cheating hadn’t crossed my mind till now. I comb through my memory to see if she ever mentioned a guy that might have caught her interest. The only guy I know whom she’s currently close to is Felipe. But even though he’s gay, I don’t feel a hundred percent at ease with their friendship. Like me, he can see past her less-than-impressive fashion sense. And I’m not talking about inner beauty. I’m actually glad she dresses the way she does. When she was all dolled up in Phuket, she turned heads.

By mid-afternoon, I still haven’t reached Bridget. It’s been forty-eight hours. I call Cheryl, who said she hasn’t seen her since the other night when Marshall let her into my place.

“Ask Felipe if he’s seen or heard from her,” I tell her.

She comes back and says the last time Felipe saw her was the same night.

“Send Marshall to check on her.”

Something’s not right, and the next few hours pass a little too uncomfortably. I don’t have any meetings until dinner, when I’m meeting with other division heads within the Jing San.

I’m in my hotel room dressed in a suit, waiting to head to dinner, mindlessly flipping through channels on the television, when I get the call from Marshall.

“I got good news and bad news, boss,” he says. “I just talked with one of the neighbors in Bridget’s apartment building. There was some kind of gas leak.”

I pale.

“Good news is, Bridget wasn’t there when it happened,” Marshall continues. “She slept at your place. Chang confirmed he let her out of the club the following morning.”

I continue to breathe. “What’s the bad news?”

“Amy died.”

Holy shit. That explains why she didn’t pick up JD’s call, which was surprising, given how Amy hangs on JD.

“And one of the other roommates, think the name was Simone, was taken to the hospital,” Marshall adds.

“Where’s Bridget?” I demand.

“Don’t know yet. When I knocked on her door, no one answered. I cased the building and didn’t see any lights from inside her unit, though it’s pretty late here.”

“Let me know the instant you find Bridget,” I say before hanging up.

There’s probably a midnight flight to San Francisco I can catch, if needed. Or a private jet charter would be better. But it’s probably too early to bail on dinner and the rest of the week that Hao Young has planned on my behalf. I regret not doing a location share with Bridget’s phone. I hadn’t wanted her to turn around and request the same of me.

I call Cheryl to look into flights as well as any information she can about what happened, then sit down and cup my hands over the back of my neck. I’m going to have to tell JD about Amy.

Gas leak. Probably carbon monoxide poisoning. That’s not a common occurrence, though one does hear about it every now and then. Though I feel bad for what happened to Amy, I’m more relieved that Bridget didn’t end up in either the hospital or the morgue. At least, it appears that way.

But what if something did happen to Bridget? What if Marshall didn’t get the correct info? I’m all the way here in fucking Hong Kong, unable to do anything. I stand up and kick the coffee table.

“Yo, what’s the matter?” JD asks from the door that connects our two rooms.

I turn to him. Wearing a bathrobe, he’s in the middle of getting ready for dinner and has shaving cream over his face.

I release a long breath. “Something bad happened to Amy.”

“I didn’t get her pregnant, did I?” he jokes.

“She’s dead.”

JD stares at me for several silent seconds before saying, “What are you talking about?”

“I sent Marshall to check on Bridget at her apartment. She wasn’t there. One of the neighbors explained what happened.”

“Which was what?”

“There was some kind of gas leak, probably carbon monoxide. One of the roommates, Simone, was taken to the hospital. Amy didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

“What about Bridget?”

“She wasn’t there the night it happened.”

JD’s face darkens. “Then where is she?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m thinking to fly back.”

“Whoa. And miss dinner? These are guys with rank we’re meeting with. Shouldn’t you at least wait till the morning?”

I study JD. He looks troubled but not devastated about what happened to Amy. Probably hasn’t fully sunk in for him. Or he really doesn’t care that much for Amy. I know JD doesn’t get close emotionally with his women, but I’m a little surprised that he’s not more concerned.

“Depends what I hear from Marshall.”

JD looks down in thought before saying, “I don’t know how Hao Young is going to feel about you ditching this trip for some chick.”

I shrug and turn around to get my suitcase from the closet. It doesn’t hurt to pack in case I decide to leave.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” JD continues. “I’m sure Marshall has everything under control.”

“I’d still feel better if I was there.”

“I doubt anything bad happened to Bridget.”

In the middle of unzipping my suitcase, I look up at JD. “Her friend and roommate just died. It wasn’t that long ago that she got shot at.”

“So?”

“That’s a lot to happen to someone. And she doesn’t have family except for a non-related aunt who may or may not live nearby.”

“Apparently she has you, who’s crazy enough to ditch the opportunity of a lifetime just to go comfort his bae.”

“Something doesn’t feel right. She hasn’t answered my calls.”

“Maybe she’s still pissed at those pics Kimberly showed her.”

I had thought that exact same thing, but that was before I knew what happened. As upset as she might be about the photos, she would have wanted to talk to me about Amy, wouldn’t she?

My phone rings. It’s Cheryl, so I pick it up. JD goes back to his room.

“I called all the local hospitals, and Bridget isn’t listed with any of them,” Cheryl informs me. “Her roommate, Simone Jefferson, is at Alta Bates Medical Center. Marshall’s on his way to check if Bridget is hanging out there.”

“She has another roommate,” I say. “I don’t know her name, but Felipe might. What happened to her?”

“Not sure. I found a short reference to what happened on a local online news blog. It says Amy Liu, a student at UC Berkeley, died of carbon monoxide poisoning in her room. A roommate, Simone Jefferson, was treated and taken to the hospital. There’s no mention of anyone else.”

“Did you find a flight?”

“There’s a commercial flight that leaves HKG in about seven hours. And a private jet can be ready in three hours.”

I’d rather be with Bridget right now, but she probably wouldn’t want me to cut short my trip. She’s not the kind of woman who expects or needs me to drop everything for her.

“Book me something for the morning,” I decide. That way I don’t bail on dinner, and it gives Marshall more time to track down Bridget. It’s past midnight in California, so there’s not much he can do right now.

A little later, I hear from Marshall that Bridget’s not at the hospital as a visitor, though he did meet with Simone’s parents, who knew nothing of Bridget’s whereabouts.

“I’ll have Ramos camp out here so we know if Bridget does show up,” Marshall tells me.

“And send someone to stake out her apartment,” I say.

“Got that covered already.”

“We got any contacts in the Berkeley PD?”

“No, but Trawley will keep an eye on any alerts. We could file a missing person’s report, but we should give it a little more time. The other roommate, a Kat Rosenthal, hasn’t shown up either. Maybe they’re shacked up in a motel together. I’ll check those next.”

After I hang up with Marshall, JD walks back into my room, now half dressed.

“I’ll get my guy, Travis, to help Marshall out,” JD says. “Who knows? He might find her before Marshall does.”

“Thanks,” I reply as I continue to pack.

“Seriously, though, I think you’re overreacting. You don’t want to leave early only to find out Bridget was having a one-night stand with some frat boy because she was upset at seeing your text—”

“My text?”

“I meant the photo of you with Mei Ling.”

“Bridget’s not like that.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. I trust her more than I’d trust some of our own family members.”

JD seems taken aback. “I didn’t know she had you wrapped around her finger this much.”

I stop and stare at him. What the fuck kind of comment is that?

He backs off a little. “I’ve just never seen you this worked up about a chick before. But I’m gonna help you find Bridget if that makes you feel better. Tell your guy Marshall to call Travis with everything he knows so far.”

I appreciate my cousin’s help and resume packing.

Dinner is difficult. I’m not in the most social mood when half the time I’m thinking about Bridget. Marshall texts that he found nothing at the local hotels, everything from budget motels to The Claremont, and that he’s turning in for the night and will resume his search first thing in the morning.

Around midnight my time, I try calling Bridget again, even though she might be sleeping in since it’s only eight in the morning in California. This time I get voicemail right away. So her phone is either off or dead.

Even though Marshall didn’t get much sleep, I call him next. Good man that he is, he’s already up. I tell him that he can check with her statistics professor, the library where she works, and her internship in Oakland.

“She also has a woman who’s a close family friend,” I say. “Coraline or Coretta.”

It makes sense that if this “aunt” of hers lives nearby that maybe Bridget would be staying with her.

I stay up until two in the morning for an update from Marshall.

“She hasn’t shown up at her apartment or the hospital so far. She didn’t show up for work the morning they found Amy,” Marshall informs me. “But she called them later that day to explain why. I haven’t tracked down her stats professor yet, and she didn’t show for her last day at the internship. They were supposed to go out for drinks. Instead they got an email saying something came up for her and she couldn’t make it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s what I was told.”

“I’m surprised. She’s usually so conscientious about her obligations.”

“Maybe the trauma hit her hard.”

Remembering what she was like after the shooting, I reply, “Possibly, but she’s pretty damn resilient and level-headed.”

My father once told me, “The people you want to let closest to you, you want to be able to trust in a war where your life is in their hands.”

I actually would pick Bridget to go into war with if I had to. Marshall and Cheryl would be a close second.

Sleep eludes me, and when Marshall calls just before eight in the morning my time, I pick up on the first ring.

“I went back to her apartment and interviewed some of the neighbors, explaining that I’m a cousin from out of town,” Marshall tells me. “One of the neighbors told me that they might be staying with the boyfriend of the roommate, Kat.”

“Is she?”

“She did the night before last, but she didn’t last night. They said she left.”

“Who’s ‘they?’”

“Kat and her boyfriend. They said she left to take her stats final, came back to the apartment sometime when they were all out, took her suitcase and left a note.”

“Did they show it to you? What did it say?”

“It said, ‘I need some time and space alone to process all that’s happened. Please don’t worry and give Simone a big hug for me. All my love, Bridget.’”

What the fuck…?

“You have any leads on where she could be?” I ask.

“Not right now.”

I curse. “Does the roommate know anything? Other friends that Bridget has?”

“She mentioned an aunt but doesn’t know if the woman lives local or not. There’s also some ex-boyfriend who apparently called back in November or December.”

“Have you tried talking to the other roommate, Simone?”

“I’ll try her next.”

I throw my toiletries into my suitcase and prepare for the flight that Cheryl booked for me. I should have flown back last night when I had the chance.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I have no idea what’s going on, but something’s up.