* * * *
Green Room
1:17 P.M.
Gray texted me all morning, tried to call my cell all morning, and sent me a dozen emails. Such messages included:
Looking for you. I’m sorry.
Where are you? Can we talk?
Forgive me. I was a fool. Toby is gone for good.
Please, call me. Please. Please.
You can’t do this to me…us.
Dixon, we need to talk about this. I apologize.
Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.
I don’t know what I was thinking, really.
Just call.
I was looking off into space in the bedroom of the bed and breakfast’s “Green Room” when Mike phoned me. I pressed Answer.
He immediately asked in a caring but rushed tone, “Where are you?”
“Tucker’s.” Everyone knew the bed and breakfast by that simple name. “I’m safe here. Why?”