“You left,” she said, “and I didn’t know why. I was trapped in the dark, and I couldn’t get out, and I called and you wouldn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

The memory shifted. He was eating dinner tonight. He couldn’t even remember what it was—takeout bought at a drive-thru, mechanically eaten as he’d sat at the table, staring at a pile of papers and pretending to read. Then his phone rang.

Olivia’s ring tone. She’d set it up a week ago. They’d been talking when a client called, and he’d gotten annoyed because he’d had to pause the conversation long enough to check his call display.

“You need ring tones,” she said. “So you’ll know if it’s important without needing to take two entire seconds to check.”

“Do you really think I know how to set a ring tone?”

She’d put out her hand. A few minutes of tapping and she handed his phone back. “One for Rose and one for Lydia. One for Don, too, as your premier client. One for Ricky, because he’d feel left out otherwise. And, of course, one for me, so you’ll know I’m bugging you, and you can ignore it.”

Which would never happen. That’s what he’d thought, with an oddly warm feeling. I’ll know it’s you, and I’ll always answer.

Now the phone rang, her ring tone, a jaunty little tune that reminded him of Olivia in a good mood, chipper and bouncy. It rang and it rang, and he did not answer.

Back to the bedroom.

“Anytime you need me, I’m here,” he said. “If you call, I’ll come.”

“I know.”

She’d called once more after that. Late, as he was in bed, trying to sleep. He’d heard it ring, and he’d rolled over and waited for it to go to voice mail. He didn’t check the message. Nor had he checked the last one. Ignoring voice mail, texts, and e-mail. Getting his distance. That was best for both of them.

Because I am Gwynn, and I can’t escape it. He destroyed her, and he loved her. I’ll destroy you and . . .

He fell into the memory again, Olivia sitting up in bed, eyes wide as he assured her he’d never fail her. He’d always be there for her. Always, always, always.

“Gabriel!”

He shot upright, as if he’d been only dozing. He blinked and peered around the room. The dark and empty room.

I was trapped in the dark, and I couldn’t get out, and I kept calling and you wouldn’t answer.

His phone started to ring. It wasn’t her ring tone, but he’d gotten another call, not long after the first one this evening, from a number he hadn’t recognized, and he’d answered and heard nothing, and known it was her.

But this time, call display showed a client’s name. He hit Ignore and flipped to his voice messages. He was going to listen. He should have listened, damn it. Just in case.

As the first message played, his heart picked up speed with every word. Tristan? The hospital? Goddamn it, yes, that was a trap, and she shouldn’t have gone without him.

And how the hell was she supposed to know that when you wouldn’t answer your fucking telephone? Besides, she has Ricky.

That didn’t matter. Yes, Ricky would look after her, but no matter how much he knew, he didn’t really understand. He couldn’t.

How many times over the last week had Gabriel felt that kernel of jealousy grow, felt that Ricky was taking everything, leaving nothing that was his alone? This was. Ricky didn’t understand the magnitude of the situation, of the danger, the threat, because if he did, he’d be on that phone himself, telling Gabriel to quit his sulking and get the hell down there to help her.

Gabriel rolled out of bed and grabbed his trousers from the chair.

Now you’re going to help her? Three hours after she called? Much too little, much too late, and you know it.

That’s when he remembered the second message. Calling to tell him it was all right? Situation resolved?

He played the message, and when he finished listening, he pounded in her number, punching the keys so hard that he kept striking two at once.

It’s been an hour. A goddamn hour. She needed you, and you rolled over and went back to sleep.

The phone rang once. He exhaled, eyes closed, waiting to hear her voice telling him it was fine, she was fine, they were fine. And by the way, Gabriel? Get the fuck out of my life and stay there.

The line clicked.

“I’m sor—” he began.

A computerized voice intoned, “The customer you are trying to reach is not available. Please—”

He grabbed his shirt and raced out the door.

—

Gabriel strode down the corridor of the main hospital building. That seemed to be where Olivia had called from, if he was inferring correctly. No, not inferring. Not deducing, either. He was worried enough to strip away those logical explanations and admit the truth to himself.

I know she’s here. I just know it.

As for “where” here, well, that was the problem. He’d tried calling on the drive. Tried Ricky, too, only to get the same “customer unavailable” message.

He climbed to the second floor, and when he walked along the main corridor, a board creaked overhead. A footstep sounded, then another.

So where the hell were the stairs? He continued down the hall and found them. Broken steps, half the treads rotted, but footprints on the remaining ones. As he climbed, he saw someone passing in the hall above. The figure stopped.

“Gabriel. Thank God. I— Whoa! Stop!” Ricky’s hand shot out, palm up. “That whole stair is rotted. I already put my foot through it. Step over it to the next one.”