by Sophia Gray
I have to keep breathing or else I’ll pass out. Panic threatens to overtake me. I hang on by the thinnest of threads. All I can do is lie here and think. About what might happen. What I can do about it. And whether anyone will come to help me before it’s too late.
Chapter 28
Christopher
I spend the day doing a lot of thinking.
At first I was pissed, especially when I left Amanda’s. Beyond pissed. Wishing I’d punched Derrick out the second I saw him pull into her driveway. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Showing up like that, acting superior. Putting the spotlight on Amanda, even more than it already was. All out of some sort of grudge against me.
I know why he hates me. It’s had to be that way for a long time. If he knew the full story of what happened the day Michelle died…I don’t know what it would do to him. It’s bigger than me, bigger than her. It was club-level stuff. I don’t know how involved he still is with the club, but I guess he must be close. I would have heard something through the grapevine otherwise.
Come to think of it, he wasn’t wearing his kutte. That’s something to consider. In the Wicked Angels, when you ride your bike, you wear your kutte. Maybe he left it at home since he was coming through town. One of the unspoken rules is club members don’t wear them when riding through town. God forbid the townspeople have to be reminded the club exists.
Regardless, Derrick was being an ass. Stumbling around. Pathetic.
Was he really pathetic, though? I pace my living room, punching my palm. No. Not pathetic. In pain. I could have stopped him from feeling that pain, but I didn’t. Maybe I’m the pathetic one.
So I was pissed at first. Now I’m desperate. I need her to believe me. I don’t know why. I just do. I have to talk to Amanda, even if it means going back to town.
I’ve been thinking about her when I’m not thinking about Derrick. I can’t help it. I keep remembering the way she looked when I was fighting with him. The way she looked when he said those awful things. About Michelle. I was sure she didn’t believe me. She was going to turn her back on me, just like everyone else already has. Why not? I’m poison. I kill everything I touch.
Before Derrick showed up, she was ready to walk through town with me. Face down anything with me. Stand by my side and defend me, no matter what it meant to her. All it took was Derrick’s mouth to set off her doubt. I saw it in her face. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Me, or the drunk standing out on her lawn.
He wasn’t always like that. I used to think of Derrick as a big brother. He was so cool, so in control. I worshiped him, I guess. The brother I’d never had. Then, when I married Michelle, he became my brother. It seemed too good to be true.
Now? He’s a mess. A shadow of who he used to be. Sloppy, drunk, angry. I know it’s my fault. Just not for the reason he thinks.
Nothing I’ve ever said has been good enough. Not for him, not for anybody else in the town. For a minute there, I thought it might be enough for Amanda. I was wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something.
There’s so much she doesn’t know. There are things about the day Michelle died I’ve never told anyone. I did it to protect her. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe guarding her memory isn’t the way to go. Look what it’s doing to my life.
“What do you think, Scout?” He looks at me from his spot in front of the fire. “You’ve got the life, buddy. You don’t have to worry about shit like this. All you have to do is eat and sleep and run around outside. I wish I were you right now.”
He comes over to me, nuzzling my hand. He’s been my only friend for a long time. After I had split off from the club, I had nobody. It was like being a kid all over again. No friends, no family. I wouldn’t visit my mother for a million dollars. She might be dead, for all I know. I can’t go back to that world. Even riding past a trailer park sends a chill up my spine.
Scout knows all my shit. He’s a good listener. “What should I do, Scout? Should I go to her?” He stares at me. What does he know? He just wants food.
Shit. I stand, pacing. Can I trust her? I feel like she deserves to know everything, but I can’t shake this feeling of betrayal. If I tell the whole story, I’ll be betraying Michelle. She was a good wife until things got bad. She couldn’t help herself in the end. The addiction was too strong by then.
Will she even believe me? Or will she assume I’m lying, just like everyone else always has?
I listen to her voicemail again. She’s on my side. She believes in me. Maybe I should give her a chance to prove it. What if she lets me down, just like everyone else has? It’s fine for a person to say they’ll believe you, until they hear the truth.
I can’t help myself. I call her back. Voicemail. “Hey, it’s Christopher. I got your message. I’ve, uh, needed time to think. I want to talk to you. Give me a call, we can meet up someplace.”
After an hour of waiting, I start to worry. Why hasn’t she called? Did she change her mind? Maybe somebody else got to her before I did and tried to turn her against me. It sounds paranoid even to me, but I know anything’s possible in this fucking town. I get my coat and climb on my bike.
I know I could catch shit for going back into town like this. I made an agreement with the club, years ago, that I wouldn’t come around. They’ve never strictly held me to it—after all, a person has to go to town from time to time. Supplies and whatnot. Otherwise, I’ve been banished. And that’s okay with me. There’s no love lost here.
I guess parking overnight at Amanda’s was their idea of going outside the rules. What was I supposed to do? I had to make a choice, and I chose her. I knew the consequences, and I walked right into it. I didn’t care. I still don’t. But she does.
I wonder how many people will see me as I ride through this time. The town looks quiet, nearly deserted. It’s freezing outside, keeping everyone inside their warm homes. But there are eyes everywhere. I swear it’s like some of these people stand at their window just waiting for something to happen. Pretty soon word will start to spread that I’m riding through. Like I’m the fucking grim reaper or something.
It doesn’t matter. I have to talk to her.
I drive down Main Street in the hopes her shop is still open. No, it’s dark now. Maybe that’s for the best—it wouldn’t do her any good if I were seen at the shop. The townspeople might come out with the pitchforks and burning torches.
I go on to her house, hoping this ride wasn’t for nothing. I don’t think she’s got much of a social life. If I’ll find her anywhere besides the shop, her house is probably the place.
Her car’s in the driveway. I breathe a sigh of relief. Now all I have to do is hope she wants to talk to me. It’s been over an hour since I called her, with no reply. This is unlike her. I wonder who got to her in the time since she called. If she went to the shop at all, the possibilities are endless.
I go to the front door, knocking. It opens at the slightest touch. “Hello?” I call out, thinking she forgot to close it all the way. Silence.
I reach over to the light switch, flipping it. The house remains in darkness.
Shit. Why did I stop carrying a gun?
“Amanda?” I open the door wider until it rests against the wall. There’s no sign of movement anywhere in the living room or the kitchen.
I take a step inside, and that’s when I see it. The porch light is on, showing me a dark stain on the carpet just inside the front door. Along with a purse. Amanda’s purse, on the floor, contents spilled everywhere.
My heart immediately starts racing. My focus narrows. She’s gone. I know who took her. Why wasn’t I with her? I forgot how much she needed me. Too busy thinking about myself.
I have to find her.
Chapter 29
“I’ve told you all this already,” I say, sitting on the sofa in Amanda’s living room. The lights are on, now, the cops having flipped the breaker. He didn’t cut the wires at least.
“Tell us again,” the cop asks. He’
s sitting in front of me, on one of the chairs from Amanda’s kitchen. I want to tell him to get his fat, snide ass off that chair. He doesn’t deserve to sit in one of her chairs. He doesn’t want to help her. He only wants to pin this on me.
“Don’t you get it? While you’re questioning me, that fucking maniac has her! He could be raping her, killing her, right now! And you’re not doing anything about it!”
“Maybe if you’d comply,” another cop says. A female this time. She hates me just as much as the rest of them do. She’s not even trying to hide it.
I take a deep breath, struggling to control my temper. “Like I said. I was coming here to talk to her. She called me earlier, wanting to make up after an argument we had—you’ve listened to the voicemail. I called her back. When she didn’t reply after an hour, I came here. I wasn’t worried about her safety so much as I was worried why she wouldn’t call when she sounded so ready to talk when she left that message. It seemed out of character.”
“And what did you find when you got here?”
I want to tell them to look the fuck around. “The door was almost closed, but not totally. I went to knock, but it swung open a little. I opened it all the way. I saw the bloodstain, the purse on the floor. So I called you.” I hadn’t wanted to. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But I remembered this wasn’t about me. It was about her. Finding her. A big fucking lot of good that did me, seeing as how they haven’t started looking yet.
“You say you two had an argument earlier today?”
Oh, no. Not this. “Yeah, a little disagreement.”
“What was it about?”
“It’s personal.”
“I thought you wanted to help your girlfriend.”
“She’s not…Anyway, how would this help you? What we talked about has nothing to do with this. I’m telling you, her ex is a goddamned lunatic. Did you find that clipping? It has to be around here somewhere. I just looked at it this morning.” I point to the coffee table. “It was right here.”
“We didn’t see any type of clipping anywhere,” the female officer tells me.
“Great. He probably took it!”
“You’re saying Miss Ellingwood has a stalker?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, was abusive. He was stalking her. She just recently blocked his number and blocked him on social media. Check it out—her laptop’s right here. You can probably log in and see for yourself. He’s insane. I know he has her.”
“We’ll take the laptop as evidence, and have our forensic team go through it.”
“You don’t need a fucking forensic team for this!” I’m shaking with rage. It’s like talking to a wall. “I’m telling you, I looked at her messages today! Just this morning. He said sick things. All you have to do is look, and you’ll see what I mean. You should be looking for this guy!”
“What’s his name again?” One of the cops takes out a notepad.
“Lucas.”
“Lucas what?”
“I don’t know. If you look at the account with the messages, you’ll be able to see.”
“Mr. Barton, we can’t just log in to a person’s accounts without permission.”
I must be losing my mind. It’s the only explanation. “Even when you think there’s been a kidnapping? Are you kidding me? She’s not a suspect here. It’s not like you have to watch yourself. She’s the victim. She needs your help. Please. Help her. He took her. I know he did.”
“Mr. Barton…” The woman cop looks at me, hands on hips. “How do we know you’re not just making this up?”
“The proof is right there.” I point to the computer.
“How do we know this isn’t some convenient excuse?”
“What? You mean you think I did something to her because I saw these messages and thought it was a good excuse? Like, oh, great, now I can kill this girl because I have somebody to pin it on? What the fuck is wrong with you people?”
“Don’t use that language with us, Mr. Barton.”
“Or what? You’ll take me in?” This is a nightmare. A living nightmare. It’s all I can do not to explode in front of these people. I take a few deep breaths, screaming internally, telling myself to get a grip on my emotions. “Listen. Please. I care about this girl. She’s very special. She’s in trouble. Please. I know…I know I don’t have a good reputation in this town. That’s all my fault. I get it. I did some bad things. Don’t make her pay for it. You’re looking at the wrong person in all of this. Just…do her the favor of looking into this Lucas guy. You’ll find his last name on those messages—I honestly don’t remember what it was, but I remember seeing it.” I look from one cop to the other, then back again. I might as well be talking to a wall.
“Yeah. We’ll do that. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere.” Both officers move to the kitchen, leaving me alone.
I don’t believe it. I’ve never felt so completely helpless in my life. Not even when Michelle died. This is a new level of hell. I thought I’d been through it all. I had no idea how bad things could get.
“Amanda…” I whisper. I close my eyes. Where are you? Are you still alive? I open my eyes, and immediately they fall on the blood stain. My fists clench. I’ll kill that son of a bitch. I just have to find him.
The cops aren’t doing anything. It’s up to me.
I take a look in the kitchen, where the two assholes who questioned me are talking with their heads close together. I know I’m their prime suspect. I know they’re trying to cook up a reason to take me in for further questioning. I can’t let them do that.
There are a few cops outside, looking for footprints in the back yard. There’s another one upstairs, checking to see if the attacker left anything behind. I’m alone for the moment.
I see something sticking out of Amanda’s purse, half spilled out onto the floor. Her phone. Shit. Maybe he called her? I glance back to the kitchen, making sure they’re not watching me, then slide off the sofa into a crouch and swipe the phone.
I sit back on the couch, phone at my side. It’s been turned off. No wonder she didn’t know I called—if she was even able to take a call that that point. I have no idea when Lucas took her. I turn it on, waiting for what seems like years for it to start up. Then the home screen comes up. Thank God she doesn’t lock it.
There’s a message—mine, I assume. And a handful of texts. I look again at the cops in the kitchen. They’re oblivious. I open the texts. They’re from an unknown number, but they’re clearly from him.
I’ll make you love me again.
You’ll see. We can be happy.
I’ll take you back to the tower. That’s where we fell in love. That’s where we’ll start fresh.
The tower? What the hell was this guy on? What tower?
I have to find out what this means, but I can’t do it while I’m stuck here. They’re still deep in conversation in the kitchen, their backs to me. Good. Let them stay there.
I put the phone back, only this time I leave it on the floor by the purse instead of halfway inside. These idiots need all the help they can get. I have no idea where they learned to be cops, but they’re fucking terrible at it.
Then I slide off the couch again and duck low enough to go unseen as I leave through the open front door. I don’t hear any noise behind me, so I know they don’t hear me go.
There’s no one out front. It’s like they don’t want to find her at all! Like they’re convinced I killed her. I swallow the bile in my throat. My bike’s still in the driveway, behind her car. I run for it, jumping on and wheeling it backward with my feet. Only when I hit the street do I turn over the ignition, then ride as fast I can away from that house. I have to go home and get myself ready.
I don’t know where to go or what to expect, but I have to find some way to get to her. There has to be some clue somewhere. I hope I can find it before the cops find me.
Chapter 30
I make it home in record time, especially considering the way I l
ooked behind me almost constantly. Waiting to see those flashing blue lights. They’ll be coming for me at any minute.
I can’t help remembering all the times I’ve had to outrun the cops in the past. All the shit we used to get into, me and Derrick and Kenny and all the rest of the guys. Nine times out of ten it seemed like we were outrunning somebody. I’d thought it was fun at the time. Anything to belong somewhere.
Kenny, especially, was a god to me. He could do no wrong. He was the guy we all wanted to be. Always getting laid by the most gorgeous women, always commanding respect. We adored him. Especially me, with no father figure in my life or even a big brother to look up to. He took me under his wing, made me feel special. Like I belonged.
