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That sentence punched her in the stomach and stole her voice. There it was, like she’d just picked it up again. Her throat aching, Hailey bowed her head so Toll wouldn’t see her tears.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said gently. He offered her a box of tissues and some water.
    â€œYou’re gonna find her, right?” Hailey cried.
    He dropped his eyes, drew in a breath, and looked directly at her. “I will personally keep looking until we find her, until the end of my watch on this Earth, I promise you.”

Chapter Five
    Denial
    What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!
    How sweet their memory still!
    But they have left an aching void,
    The world can never fill.
    - William Cowper, Walking with God
    Hailey let herself into an empty house, half expecting to find this was all just an elaborate prank, half expecting to see Holly, intact and unscathed, sitting in the kitchen.
    She wasn’t.
    But a note from Uncle Pix was:
    Hailey,
    We’re at the pub. “Search Headquarters.”
    Give us a call when you get home.
    Love Pix
    After making her obligatory phone call, she threw the note away and headed straight for her computer. She typed in “D.O.P.P.L.E.R.,” and several websites came up, but they all had to do with radar or ultrasound or weather.
    She sat back in her chair. That fire happened thirteen years ago. Maybe DOPPLER was defunct. In any case, it felt like a dead end, and Hailey’s leg was shaking again.
    It was nearly 3pm, and the kitchen clock with its tick-tick-ticking was driving her mad.
    She had to get out of there.
    Search Headquarters seemed like the logical place to go. Surely her uncle had opened for a reason—maybe he thought Holly’d come back there!
    Hailey grabbed her keys and bolted out the door.
    That night, customers were in and out of the pub as usual. The regulars offered their polite support, and after a few shots of whiskey (apparently, the Hullachan was serving the fight’n kind), they offered to light the torches, grab the pitchforks, and go after the “jag-offs” that took Holly.
    Hailey found the five brothers sequestered in the back room with a map of the city, a bottle of Michael Collins, and a bodhrán, which Dale drummed in perfect jig rhythm. She left them to it. While they compared notes, Frog—the pub’s giant bouncer— swore up and down to Hailey he’d never take another night off. He stood, arms crossed, jaw set, eyes fixed on the door; Mrs. Lash prepared dinner, and Fin tended bar. Hailey waited tables, avoiding eye contact as she ran pints and plates.
    Sometime around 7:00 p.m., the college crowd trickled in and business picked up. The lion’s share headed straight for the bar, especially the ladies, most of whom came to Hullachan’s on a mission to win a date with Fin.
    They could have him.
    Holly might’ve found him—how did she put it—“genuine and engaging,” but he was more like the big brother Hailey never wanted: slightly smug and more than a little overbearing. The one time she’d tried to flirt with a customer, Fin went all nuclear-Uncle-Pix on her and would’ve tossed him out, except Pix had beat him to it. Hailey never saw that kid again. The word “overprotective” always sprang to mind when Hailey thought of Fin. That and “man-whore.” But the ladies of Pittsburgh loved him and pretty much threw themselves at his feet, and that was just fine by him.
    A lot of students drank a few beers then went home, but some would stake out a booth and study there all night, drinking cups of coffee and eating the free pretzels. Hailey didn’t care who came to drink what, as long as they kept her busy. Every time she slowed down, the image of Holly’s foot caught up.
    She was at the bar filling a carafe of coffee for a regular bookworm when he stepped through the door.
    It was a bizarre moment for Hailey, who’d all but given herself whiplash from