It's Don Henley, calling to see if anything new has come up. Gnash opts not to tell him about the necklace, and hangs up quickly.
"Fuck this! Why aren't we out there looking for her?" Lindsey snaps, on his feet in an instant.
"We have the entirety of the LAPD out searching and canvassing. We've been in contact with the FBI as well, considering Ms. Nicks' status. Neighboring counties have their forces out searching, too. There's nothing for us to do until something comes up," Gnash informs him, leaning against the wall.
"It's not enough!"
"Lindsey, please, this isn't helping," Mick says, placing his hand on his friends shoulder. Lindsey brushes him off and storms upstairs. He makes his way into Stevie's bedroom and looks around. Nothing. He collapses onto her bed and clutches her pillow to him, surrounded by her sweet lavender and vanilla scent. Finally, he lets himself cry. He's been so worried and confused and scared all day, and he finally lets it out.
Christine goes after him a little while later.
"Are you alright?" She asks, leaning against the closed door. Lindsey stares out the window, and she thinks he's asleep.
"What if something terrible happened to her, and the last thing she ever heard from me was said in anger? I can't let that be it, Chris. We were so mad at each other. I can't stand her thinking that's how I felt. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if the last thing I said to her was fighting over that stupid fucking song."
"Lindsey, you can't think like that. She's going to come home safe. I know it. She knows you love her," Christine says softly. Lindsey doesn't respond, and she closes the door behind her.
Lindsey stands to look out the window at the city bustling down the hill.
"Where are you, my Angel?" He whispers, leaning his forehead against the glass.
He finally falls asleep hours later, cuddling her pillow to his chest.
When he comes down the next morning, everyone is gathered in the kitchen drinking coffee. Lindsey accepts his cup gratefully and perches himself on the counter, looking out the window at the swarm of police cars outside the house.
"Kim called this morning. He said he asked around the office, and nobody there has heard anything from her either," Robin says. Lindsey's heart sinks further. This is looking worse by the hour.
Lindsey couldn't help but let his mind run wild with thoughts of her being tied up and tortured somewhere, or worse, dead in some alleyway in west Hollywood.
Officer Gnash and a detective named Seth Bowers enter the kitchen. The detective introduces himself to everyone and gives them the rundown of what he knows.
"So, having collected our statements from everyone in the neighborhood, all of Stevie's friends, and everyone who works at the studio and the record label, we have established that her last contact with anyone was with the band on Tuesday night when she left the studio. We found the necklace, but the lab won't have a DNA report on it until Sunday. Not one single person we've talked to has seen anything, but we're sending officers out to do a more thorough questioning on the studios neighboring buildings. We're going to make the investigation public today, and since it is a priority it will be nationwide news. We would like Barbara and Jess to give a statement at the press conference if you're comfortable with it."
"Of course," Jess nods, rubbing his hand over his wife's back.
"Thank you. Now, we have a few more questions. Do any of you know if she was seeing anyone?"
