When Holly wakes up, Tinsley is gone. She must have been in a hurry to leave because there is an object on the floor in front of the chair her purse had been on last night when Holly entered the room, an object that must have fallen out of her purse in Tinley's mad dash. It's a present, signed to Artemis.
Artemis is already awake and at work on repairing Holly's wings when she barges in, upset at the news she has to report, and for the lost opportunity to speak to Tinsley.
"Tinsley's gone, Artemis."
Artemis's stomach sinks with fear.
Has she ran away? Does she really hate me that much now?
As if she can read his mind, Holly says, "She doesn't hate you, trust me."
"And on what evidence should I base this trust?"
Holly puts the present, a small box, in his hand. Inside is a simple keychain with a solid silver metal circle at the end, on which is inscribed: The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good - Ann Landers. A small piece of paper falls out of the box. Tinsley wrote him a message.
I saw this and thought of you because you helped me out when I needed it and I feel I haven't been able to do much in return - but I am thankful, believe me. Happy 18th birthday, to the nicest person I've ever met! Seriously
"Did Butler drive her somewhere?" Artemis asks, trying to remain calm and think logically, but he is becoming overwhelmed with emotions; happy to see she cared about him enough to buy him a gift, horrified her perception of him might be irrevocably smashed. He puts the keychain back in the box, only momentarily allowing himself to wonder why she didn't give it to him on his birthday.
"I don't know -" Holly admits, embarrassed for not seeing if that was the case first.
"Perhaps she went to Limerick -" Artemis says as someone knocks on the study's door. Its Butler.
"Did Tinsley tell you where she is going this morning?" Artemis asks Butler as he steps inside the room and relocks the door.
Butler shakes his head. "I didn't see her leave, but this morning as I was doing the routine security check on the car I noticed her car is gone. She left sometime around six I'd say."
For only a split second, Artemis second guesses the trust he put in Tinsley yesterday, and its long enough to make him feel guilty for doubting her. But why would she just run off? He can only think of one answer, and it hits him like a punch to the stomach each time it repeats in his mind, making it difficult to breathe.
She doesn't want to stay here anymore, because she knows who and what I am. I'm not the nicest person to her anymore.
His phone vibrates. It's a text.
He lets out a noticeable sigh of relief. Butler and Holly watch this scene in amazement; never before has Artemis been such an….open book.
I'm sorry I couldn't tell you yesterday what I really want to, and also for leaving and not telling you this morning, I was just in such a rush. I'm going to be in Limerick for a few days. Don't worry I'll be back ASAP, and I have things to tell you.
Artemis rereads it, trying to make sense of it. The message fills him with an overwhelming feeling of dread. Something is wrong, he's sure of it.
"She's in Limerick." He says out loud to let everyone else in on this development.
"But we have no idea where at." Butler points out, trying to escape a pointless goose chase.
"That's not true." Artemis informs him, pulling up a GPS software system on his laptop. "I installed a tracking device in her car in case she tried to run off. After all, I don't want her leaving until my loan is fully reimbursed."
Holly and Butler know that's not the only reason, but they just hold back their urge to tease and let Artemis jot down the coordinates.
"Say, Arty, Isn't that a little stalkerish?" Okay, so only Butler suppresses a playful tease. Holly can't resist. Artemis pretends not to hear it.
"Right now her car's at a Travel lodge Hotel."
Tinsley continues sobbing into her hotel bed pillow, what she's been doing for the last hour. Artemis, no matter what, can't see her like this. So broken. She doesn't want him to see her in this state, but with no one to give her any words of encouragement or sympathy, even just their presence, she can't find the will to stop crying.
"I didn't even get to tell her…." She starts this sentence, but it is broken by a heaving sob. "That I believe her. That I know her childhood story was true. I wanted to tell her."
Her phone rings, an up tempo jingle that doesn't fit the situation. She has a text.
I am on my way. I have some things to tell you as well.