The Casanova by T L Swan

Chapter 25

ELLIOT

I wake with a start, a bang in the distance.

I look over to Kate, but I’m in bed alone. I sit up. “Kate,” I call.

Is she in the bathroom?

“Kate?”

I get up and walk to the bathroom, it’s empty. Panic floods through me and I flick the light on. “Kate,” I yell as I look around. “Where are you?”

I march into the living room. “Kate,” I cry with urgency. “Kathryn.” I look around, where’s her handbag?

Her bag is gone.

No.

I run from room to room, screaming her name as my heart races.

She’s not here.

I dial her number, it rings out. I dial it again and it’s switched off.

Anger surges through me and I kick the wall.

I dial security. “Yes sir.”

“Where’s Kate?” I growl.

“Um. . . she’s with you. . . isn’t she?”

“Explain to me. . . how the fuck she got out of here unnoticed,” I yell.

“I don’t understand, sir, we’ve been on the doors all night.”

“You’re fucking useless,” I cry. “Find her!” I hang up and begin to pace back and forth, my chest rising and falling as I grapple for control.

I go to the window and look down over the street.

“Kate,” I whisper. “Where are you?”

I sit in the back of the car and dial Kate’s number; it goes straight to voicemail.

I inhale sharply—I’ve searched for her all night. She simply disappeared into thin air.

Not a trace.

She hasn’t gone home, her phone is off.

“This is the house sir.”

I peer in. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, this is her brother’s house. We dropped her bag off here as she requested.”

I get out of the car and march up to the front door, knock hard, and it opens in a rush. A young man comes into view, early thirties.

“Hello, I’m Elliot Miles—”

“I know who you are.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s not here.”

“I need to—”

“You’ve done enough,” he snaps, goes to close the door, and I put my hand up to block it, push it open, and barge my way in. “Kate,” I yell. “I know you’re here.”

“You’re too late. She’s gone.” He sighs.

“Where?”

“She flew out first thing this morning.”

The room spins. “To where?”

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”

“What are you talking about?” I throw my hands up. “She has to work tomorrow.”

He screws up his face. “You dumb fuck, she resigned last Wednesday, she’s taking a job overseas. If you’d have bothered to come back from your artist’s bed, you would already know this.”

The earth spins on its axis.

My nostrils flare as I battle for control.

He shakes his head, with a deep exhale. “Just, get out, man. You’ve fucked it.” He glances at his watch.

“Where is she, tell me,” I demand.

“You’re too late, she will have already checked in.”

My eyes widen, her plane hasn’t left yet. “I can still catch her then.” I turn and run for the car.

“I didn’t say that,” he calls after me. “She doesn’t want to see you,” I hear in the distance as I dive in the backseat. “Heathrow Airport, quick,” I cry.

Andrew pulls out into the traffic with speed and I dial Kate’s number. Ring, ring. . . ring, ring. . . ring, ring.

“Come on, pick up. Pick up,” I whisper. It rings out and I dial her number again. I imagine her staring at her phone ignoring my call and my fury begins to boil.

At her, at me. . . at this entire fucked-up situation.

Why did she run out in the middle of the night, what was she thinking?

When this is all over, I’m going to kill her. . . that’s if I don’t have a heart attack beforehand. I peer through the windshield. “Drive faster.”

“I am.” Andrew huffs as he changes lane, then he changes lane again and I dial Kate’s number with my heart in my throat.

Please pick up, baby.

It rings out again. “Answer your fucking phone, Kathryn,” I yell as I hit my phone on the back of the seat in anger.

Andrew’s eyes flick up to mine in the rearview mirror. “Don’t fucking start!” I growl.

He puts his foot down and we fly through the traffic, and half an hour later we pull up at the airport.

I dive out of the backseat and run in, my eyes scanning the check-in lines as I turn in a 360.

“Where are you?” I whisper to myself. “Kate.” I begin to panic that I’m not going to find her, there are too many people. “Don’t do this, please.” I run along the back of the check-in queues as I search for her. I get to one end and run back to where I began: perhaps she’s already gone through.

I run to the security checkpoint and stand in line. “Come on, come on,” I mutter. I look around the line to the security guards, working at a snail’s pace.

Hurry the fuck up.

I run my hands through my hair in a complete panic. Every minute that ticks past. . . is a minute I’ve lost to stop her.

Finally I get to the checkpoint and walk through the scanner, and it dings.

Fuck.

“Just step back through sir.”

“I don’t have time for this,” I stammer. I go back through the scanner, it dings again, and I bend and tear off my shoes and throw them to the side, rip my belt off and hurl it on the floor. I go back through the scanner and no alarm goes off.

“Thank fuck.” I pick up my belongings and tuck them under my arm and I run as fast as I can, until I get to an intersection. Six huge corridors go in different directions leading to the departure gates.

No.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I look at my options: what way should I go?

Umm. “Which way?” I’m panting as I gasp for breath. “Right.” I run to the right down a corridor. This is hopeless, I’m never going to find her. “Fuck’s sake.”

I keep running and I just happen to glance to the side and I see the back of Kate, just as she goes through the boarding gate. “Kate,” I cry as I take off in that direction. “Kate.”

She doesn’t hear me and she goes through the double doors.

“Kate,” I yell as loud as I can. People turn and stare and I get to the flight attendants who are doing the check-in.

I gasp for air. “I need to get someone off the plane,” I pant.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s impossible.”

“No.” I put my hand on my chest. Fuck, I can’t breathe. “You don’t understand, it’s an emergency.”

“You’re too late.”

“No,” I yell. “Kate. I’m here,” I cry. “Come back.”

Two burly security guards come and stand beside me. “Is there a problem here, sir?”

I look between them as I gasp for air. “My girlfriend.” I pant, and point to the flight. “Need. . . to. . . stop. . . her.”

The guards exchange looks and with an eye roll, one of them says, “Leave now or you will be escorted from the building, sir.”

Deflation fills me and I drop my shoes and belt and put my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath.

Fuck it. . . she’s gone . . .

But where to? I glance up and see the flight destination.

Honolulu

Flight 245

American Airlines

I stand with renewed purpose, put my shoes on, and roll my belt into my hand. “Thanks.” I march off. Fuckers.

I dial my security; he answers first ring. “Hello, Mr. Miles.”

“Hi, have someone meet the plane, she’s landing in Honolulu, American Airlines flight 245.”

“Got it.”

“Do not let her out of your sight! I want an address.”