“Come on, Delaney,” Rowan muttered at the windshield as he sped through downtown traffic. “Pick up.”
She never did.
He made it to her rental house in East Nashville in less than thirty minutes, flying through one yellow light and hitting the curb so hard his tires jolted. Even before he got out of the car, something felt wrong.
The porch was too still.
No scattered toys. No television noise. No sign of life.
He ran to the front door and pounded with both fists.
“Micah! It’s Dad! Open the door!”
Nothing.
When he grabbed the knob, the door swung inward.
The silence inside was so complete it made his stomach drop.
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