East Providence, Rhode Island

Monday, 3:15 PM

Ethan

Ethan stepped on the accelerator, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. Whenever he heard the car engine rev, his hands got clammy and his heart hammered against his rib cage. He knew enough psych to make his own diagnosis.

PTSD. Sometimes it felt like his throbbing knee controlled his mind. When the pain acted up, the panic always followed.

Not now. I don’t have time for this.

He took three deep, centering breath, then eased Larry’s red Honda Civic into the right lane.

I-95 curved through the suburban sprawl of Pawtucket, revealing the skyline of Providence up ahead. Ethan recognized the iconic “Superman Building” – a beige, art-deco skyscraper that resembled the Daily Planet headquarters from the old TV show.

And here I am, flying in to save the day.

The absurdity of that thought made him cringe. He was no hero. He was a recovering drug addict who struggled to keep his shit together every day. He’d let his sister die because he was too drunk to hear her cry for help. Then he’d wrecked his father’s car in a fit of blind rage, coming within inches of killing himself. He’d put his parents through the hell of another late-night phone call, just days after burying their daughter.

It had taken five years to put his life back together, and now he was throwing it all away. His medical career was in jeopardy. He’d hurt an amazing woman who wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Why? So he could chase after a girl who might possibly be even more fucked up than he was.

Superman? What a joke. He couldn’t even save himself, let alone someone else.

Maybe, he thought as he took the exit to East Providence. But I’ve got to try.

*

He parked in front of the pink Victorian on Benevolent Street. It looked just like it did in the photo, with a large wrap-around porch, turrets, decorative lead-glass windows, and twin gables finished with white gingerbread trim.

He glanced at his phone. Maya hadn’t answered his latest text. She’d refused to give him Callie’s cell number, so he had no way of reaching either one of them.

What if Callie wouldn’t talk to him?

That possibility seemed more and more likely, but he didn’t regret coming. Just seeing her, or even hearing her voice would be enough to ease his mind. He thought of Choi’s recent warning.

Her suicide risk will be off the charts if she leaves Belmont before she’s ready.

Maybe he wouldn’t be able to talk her into going back to the hospital. He doubted she’d trust him or anyone at Belmont ever again. But last night, he’d heard the concern in Maya’s voice. If he could convince her, then maybe Callie still had a chance.

He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

After a long minute, a buff guy with spiked green hair answered. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of pot smoke and patchouli oil.

“I’m here to see Maya Morales.”

“Second floor,” the guy replied after a ten-second lag.

Ethan was halfway up the stairs when Green Top yelled after him, “But she’s not there!”

He turned, cheeks flaming. The last thing he needed right now was to be toyed with by a stoner. “Any idea when she’ll be back?”

Green Top shrugged. “Just text her, man.”

Ethan walked back to the car, debating his next move. He was about to drive off when he spotted a brunette with tanned skin and dark, braided hair jogging in his direction. She had the muscular build of a sprinter or gymnast. As she got closer, he recognized Maya’s heart-shaped face from the photo in Callie’s room.

She darted past him and disappeared into the Pink House, looking like she’d just forgotten something important. His heart skipped a beat when he thought of another possibility.

Maybe something happened to Callie.

He followed her inside, dodging the muscle-bound stoner.

“Maya!”

She froze on the upstairs landing, then wheeled around, eyes locking on him like lasers.

“I’m so glad I found you. I’m –”

“I know who you are,” she snapped. “Now leave before I call the cops.”

That grabbed Green Top’s attention. He crossed his arms, flashing a skull tattoo on his bulging biceps. “Hey, Maya,” he said, deepening his voice. “Who is this dick?”

“Just another Callie stalker.”

“Right.” He got in Ethan’s face. “Time to leave before you get hurt, man.”

“Whoa.” Ethan held up his hands. “I’m not looking for trouble.” He pivoted to Maya. “You’re the one who texted me, remember?”

“That was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t. You reached out because you need help. Callie’s in trouble. That’s why I’m here.”

“Yeah, sure.” Maya stormed back down the stairs. “Or maybe you came here looking for more dirt to sell. She trusted you, you selfish prick! How much did those Prime Dirt scumbags pay you to screw her over?”

“I didn’t do it,” Ethan fired back. “Someone else sold her info, then framed me to cover their tracks. That’s the truth. Believe me or don’t.” He shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. Callie needs our help. That’s the only thing that matters.”

When Maya didn’t respond, he leaned closer. “She won’t make it on her own. Call Belmont if you don’t believe me. Ask for Doctor Choi or Doctor Grieves.”

“I already did that.”

“Then you know what kind of danger she’s in. She came back here because she trusts you. You’re the only person she’ll listen to.”

Green Top grabbed his shoulder. “You can walk out now or get wheeled out in a stretcher. Your choice.”

Ethan swatted his hand away. “Back off, asshole. I’m not talking to you.”

They were seconds away from a fist fight when Maya put herself between them. “It’s okay, Casey,” she said, taking Green Top’s hand to lead him away. “You can let him go. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

From the defeated look in her eyes, he already knew what she was going to say next.

“Callie’s gone. I have no idea where she went.”

*

Ethan sat on the edge of Maya’s futon, staring at the walls. Her eclectic taste said a lot about her personality, with portraits of Bob Marley, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and the Dalai Lama sharing the same walls as a Free Tibet poster, LGBTQ and Black Lives Matter banners, a crucifix, and a Puerto Rican flag.

The room smelled of lavender incense, with colorful Christmas lights streaming across the ceiling. Lava lamps, a hanging disco ball and an impressive collection of empty tequila bottles completed the decor.

He got up and walked to Maya’s dresser, studying the collage of smiling faces on her photo board. A snapshot of her hugging Callie was prominently displayed in the center. They looked so happy together. So much like a couple that he wondered if they’d been more than just friends.

How many people had loved Callie? How many hearts had she broken?

He thought he knew her so well, but how much could anyone learn in one week? He’d seen what she wanted to show him. Learned what she wanted him to know. But the water ran deep, and he’d barely skimmed the surface. So much was still a mystery.

Maya cleared her throat behind him. “Snoop much?”

He whirled around. “Sorry. I just noticed that picture of you and Callie. It reminds me of the one she brought with her to Belmont.”

“Yeah.” Maya walked to the photo board. “That was sophomore year, right after we met. Happier days.”

She handed him a mug of chai tea, then motioned for him to take a seat by her desk.

“Okay, Ethan.” She sat on the edge of the futon facing him. “Why should I believe a word you say?”

“Because I’m here.”

She laughed. “That only proves you’re a loco stalker.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “Is that what Callie told you?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you messing with me?”

Instead of answering, she took a sip of her tea and smiled.

“We don’t have time to play games.” He shifted restlessly in his chair. “If you think Callie’s left Providence, just tell me. I’ll go back to Belmont and see if I can get some help there.”

“She told me that you broke her heart.”

“What?” Ethan’s hand jerked, spilling some of his tea. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s what we talked about, right before she disappeared. She fell in love with you, but you weren’t interested. She told me you’re engaged to someone else.”

“Her name is Jess.” He stared at the floral pattern on his mug, wondering what else Callie had said. Had she really told Maya she loved him? “We were engaged. Now I don’t know anymore.”

Maya frowned. “How could you not know?”

“Simple. I proposed to her last month. We had our life all planned out together. But then I met Callie.”

“I see.” Maya reached back for a bottle of Patron. “Maybe we should switch drinks then.”

Ethan laughed, trailing off into a sigh. “Listen, Maya. I swear I didn’t sell Callie’s information. I’d never do that. I kept our conversations a secret, even from Jess and my best friend. But that doesn’t mean I’m innocent.”

Maya furrowed her brow. “How so?”

“I broke the most important rule. I fell in love with my patient. She trusted me, and I let her down.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Now look what’s happened.”

Maya got up and walked to the window, parting the curtain to peer outside. “I love her too, you know.” She turned back to face him. “We were more than just friends.”

“I figured as much.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No.” He met her gaze. “It makes me love her even more if that’s possible. I mean, knowing she fell for someone like you.”

She scoffed. “Ass kissing won’t make me trust you more. You know nothing about me.”

“I know what Callie told me.” He glanced around the room. “And I can guess some of the things you care about. I’m sorry we had to meet like this, Maya.”

He hung his head. “Callie would still be recovering if I’d stayed away from her, but I couldn’t. Maybe you’re right about me being a stalker. I got addicted. That’s what I do.”

“There’s enough blame to go around,” she replied. “I never should’ve left her alone today. She sounded so normal, so much like the old Callie that I let my guard down. It was so” – she slammed a palm against the wall – “stupid!”

“Do you think she’s still taking her meds?”

“I don’t know. She said she was, but she also called them zombie pills. Before I left her though, she seemed pretty upbeat.” Her eyes widened. “Shit. Maybe she was too upbeat. I’m a psych major. Why the hell didn’t I see that?”

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Ethan put down his mug and joined her at the window. “There’s no point in looking back at the mistakes we made. We need to figure out where she’s going. What about her gallery exhibits in New York or Boston?”

Maya shrugged. “It’s possible. But she could also be wandering around the streets of Providence, or…” She trailed off, lips pressing into a grim line.

“What about her cell?”

“I tried that, obviously. She isn’t picking up.”

“Right, but could we use it to track her?”

“Maybe the cops can. I’ll call them, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. They won’t even file a Missing Persons Report yet.”

Ethan paced between the window and the door, thinking. “Can you get some friends together and search for her around campus?”

“Yes. And I’ll run over to psych services. Maybe they can help.”

“Good.” He contemplated his next move. “Then I’ll go back to Boston. Callie told me Doctor Choi and Doctor Grieves were the only psychiatrists who ever helped her. I doubt she’d go back to Belmont right away, but if she’s even thinking about it, she’ll head in that direction.”

Maya shook her head.

“I know it’s a long shot,” he admitted, “but I’ve got nothing else.”

Maya wished him good luck, but he could read the doubt in her expression as she walked him to the door. It was a look that summed up his greatest fear.

What if they were already too late?

***

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