by Isabel Jolie
I walk down the hall. There are four apartment doors. Nothing near any of these doors indicates one is a business. I pull out my phone to check again. Did she say B or D? None of these doors have letters.
As I look at my phone, I feel a sharp pain below my shoulder. The sting burns. I reach behind me, trying to touch the source of pain. Did something bite me? I can’t quite reach the pain, but the tips of my fingers rub across what feels like a metal object. I spin, trying to reach the object. As I spin, the room blurs, and my eyes grow heavy.
I fall to my knees. I stare at my phone, indecisive. I need help, but who should I call? The police? Sam? I hit the green phone icon on my screen and stare at my list of favorites. I slide down to the floor as a heaviness envelops me.
I hear footsteps down the hall. The click of heels on the vinyl floor. The nasty vinyl floor catches my attention. A grayish black film covers the faded green squares.
A hand grips my bicep. The pain in my back increases, as if someone pushes on the bite on my back. I turn my head, trying to see behind me. Black cotton fabric falls over my face. It’s not tight. It’s loose enough that when I breathe, the fabric flows away from my face. When I inhale, the fabric floats to my nose.
I want the fabric off. I try to raise my arm. Get it off. My hand lies listless on the floor. I focus on raising it, but it barely moves.
The person behind me grips my wrist, places a foot on my ass, then grips my other wrist. Something rough wraps around both my wrists. I try to move them. A sharp object pushes onto my ass. It hurts.
An arm slides under each of my armpits. My body is raised. I’m pulled backward. The click of a doorknob opening sounds, and I’m pulled along, my legs dragging behind me.
My eyelids are heavy. My chest heaves like someone is sitting on it. It’s hard to breathe. So hard to breathe. Just breathe. Breathe.
Chapter 27
Sam
The Longhorns win. 24-17. Hell, yes! I check the time on my watch and notice it’s almost 6:00 p.m. I pull out my phone. No text from Olivia.
Jackson gets up and heads to the kitchen to toss his empty beer bottle. “Man, I can’t believe you watch all their games.”
“Well, how else am I gonna keep up with my Horns?”
He laughs. “I just meant, I figured you’d have more productive things to do with your time.”
“It’s Saturday afternoon. A man’s gotta have some time off. And I don’t watch all their games. Just the ones that are on at a convenient time.”
He makes his way to the closet to get his coat, so I follow to walk him out.
I slap him on the back and say, “Thanks for coming over after your three-mile run.” That man is like a machine. From what I can tell, exercise and Anna are the only two things that occupy any of his nonwork time.
I close the door and immediately dial Olivia. It goes to voicemail, so I text her.
Me: Hey, what time do you think you’ll be home? Need me to pick up anything for dinner?
It was her idea for us to fix dinner together in the apartment tonight. She’s probably at the grocery store now. She wears an Apple watch, though, so she should see me calling.
I walk into my office and sit behind my desk. Flip open my laptop and scroll through email. I get lost reading through my inbox until the clock at the top right corner of my screen catches my eye. 7:15 p.m. It’s dark outside with the exception of an array of city lights.
Where the hell is Olivia?
My phone sits on the desk beside me, screen faceup. I haven’t received any messages.
I call her again. Again, it goes to voicemail.
I call Jackson. “Hey, man, Olivia hasn’t gotten home yet, and she’s not answering her phone. Has Anna seen her?”
“I don’t think so. Let me ask.”
I hear him ask Anna if she’s seen Olivia. She reminds him they were together this morning. I hear her ask Jackson what’s going on. He tells her. Then there’s a shuffling sound.
“Hey, you. Look, I haven’t seen Olivia since I left her at her apartment around lunchtime. She was going to meet Delilah. Have you called her?”
“I don’t have her number.”
“Here, let me call her for you.”
Anna hangs up, and my gut twists as nerves fire off. Yes, it’s our first week living together, and I’m still getting to know her, but Olivia has always been pretty reliable with plans and timing. We’d agreed on cooking dinner and staying in tonight. She was going to be back way earlier than this. Maybe even watch the game with me. This doesn’t sit right.
I clear out the beer bottles for recycling, telling myself I’m worrying for nothing. Any moment, Olivia’s gonna open the apartment door loaded down with groceries.
I’m pacing between the kitchen and living area when my cell rings. I answer on the first ring. “Hey, Anna.”
“Hey, I couldn’t reach Delilah on her cell. But this is the weird thing. I texted her, and she answered from her laptop via iMessage. She said she can’t find her phone. She thinks someone stole it.”
“Was she mugged? Was Olivia with her?”
“No, she hasn’t been with Olivia all day.” Anna’s voice sounds strained as she repeats herself. “She hasn’t been with her at all today, Sam.”
I can tell I’m still missing something important. “Why did you think she was going to be with Delilah? Is that what she told you?”
“Yeah. She got a text from Delilah asking her to meet her. I couldn’t go. But she was texting Delilah beside me today, making plans.”
My pulse quickens. “Wait, are you saying she was lying to you about who she was texting?” Why the hell would she do that?
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I was standing beside her. I saw Delilah’s text. I think whoever stole her phone was texting her, and that’s who she met up with. It’s the only answer. What time was she supposed to be home today?”
My hands go cold. Fuck. Damnit. Why the hell didn’t I get her security?
“Anna, I gotta go.” I don’t wait for a response. I hang up and call Bill.
“Bill, something’s happened to Olivia. Do you still have a tail on Ms. Ray?”
“Slow down. What happened?”
“Tail. Do you still have someone watching Tiffany? Lindsey?” I’m yelling, and I don’t give a fuck.
“I’ll send a text off and see if we have eyes on her. What’s going on?”
“Olivia was supposed to be home this afternoon. She went to go meet a friend, but we found out that friend’s phone was stolen this morning. It wasn’t her friend who was texting her.”
I think I hear a low “fuck” come from his end. Yeah, correct response.
“Let me check in with the weekend detail. I’ll be back in touch.”
“Wait. Should I contact the police? The FBI?”
“No. Let me make some calls.” There’s a pause. “How long has she been gone?”
“Anna last saw her around noon. She was going to meet whoever stole that phone, and we both know it’s Ms. Ray.”
“It’s not long enough yet to contact the authorities. Stay calm. Don’t contact anyone. We’ll get her back.”
Stay calm? Seriously? Why the fuck didn’t I get her security? Helpless. I’m standing like a helpless god damn fool waiting for the phone to ring. A glass on the bar catches my eye, and I pick it up and hurl it at the wall. The loud crash followed by glass shattering almost soothes me.
I’m eyeing the wall, halfway considering punching it, pacing back and forth, when I hear knocking at my door. With long, quick strides I head to the door and swing it open, hoping with everything in my being it’s Olivia.
Jackson and Anna push in. Anna has a few tears running down her cheeks. Fuck. Her tears suck the air out of me. My insides knot. This is happening. That lunatic has her, and who the fuck knows what she’s planning on doing.
Anna lifts her arms toward me, as if she is going to pull me in for a hug. I dodge her arms and spin back to the living area. I
can’t handle being touched. I’m a live wire. I’m not about to tell them to leave, but I’m also not about to hug and cry.
I glance at the broken glass near the kitchen. I pound my fists down on the kitchen table. Focus on breathing. I’m a smart guy. I need to start thinking.
“Okay. My security guy is checking with the weekend detail to see if anyone has eyes on Ms. Ray. They are supposed to, so in theory, we could be jumping the gun.”
Anna’s lower lip quivers. She nods. Jackson comes to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. She places her hands over his.
“Can I tell her uncle?” Anna’s voice breaks as she asks.
“Why?”
“He has resources. If she’s been kidnapped, he can help. Timing is important. Or at least, that’s what they say on TV.”
I run a hand through my hair. I know she’s right. A text comes through on my phone.
Bill Withers: Ray never came out of her apartment this morning.
More bubbles show. It looks like he’s typing more. I turn to Anna. “Call her uncle. We’ll take any help we can get.”
Bill Withers: Headed to security apartment. Meet me there.
The security apartment is one floor below mine. It’s where the security detail stays when I’m home, because I didn’t want them in my apartment.
Me: K
My chest hurts. A tightness constricts, making it hard to breathe. All I can think is Olivia is in danger. I’m helpless. Relying on others.
Anna has walked off to the end of the room to call Olivia’s uncle. Jackson asks, “Should we contact the police? At least get paperwork started?”
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. Damnit. “My head security guy said no. Not yet. Not enough time.”
“You haven’t had any ransom calls, right?”
I turn my head left and right in slow motion. Even I know that’s not a good sign. This crazy-ass lady might not be after money at all. She may be making good on that threat.
If I can’t have you, no one can.
When had she sent that? Ages ago. Way before I met Liv. That note had been a key piece of evidence when I went to get a restraining order. Right around the time we found out she had gun licenses from New Hampshire, Minnesota, and New York. Shit. Why didn’t I take this psycho more seriously?
Chapter 28
Olivia
I’m surrounded by black. I inhale. Fabric touches my nose. I exhale. Fabric floats away. Light glimmers through the fabric. Weighted eyelids close.
I hear a voice. A woman. Far away.
“Fuck you!” she screams.
“I did it my way.”
“She hasn’t seen me. What the fuck do you take me for? I know what the fuck I’m doing!”
I only hear the one voice. Familiar. No screaming now. Talking, but I can’t decipher the words.
I try to move. My limbs are heavy. Like my eyelids. I try to twist. Something holds me down.
“Hold on.”
Footsteps sound.
“Tranq starting to wear off, huh?” Fingers glide over my shoulder and trail around my breast. Knocks sound. Rapid knocks. I hear footsteps. A moment later, I hear the muffled sound of her voice. I can’t tell exactly what she’s saying, but she’s talking to someone. Anger. The voices are far away. Is she in another room?
I’m completely still. I don’t know where she is, but I have to believe she can see me. It’s Lindsey. I know it’s Lindsey. But who is she talking to? I lie still. Frozen. Waiting.
Click. Click. Click. The sound of heels crossing the floor. “Seems you need a bigger dosage. More than a mountain lion.”
A sharp pain radiates in my thigh. A burning sensation spreads through the muscle. Bloodshot eyes come into view. Inches away. My eyelids droop, heavy. Everything heavy. Hard to breathe. I struggle to breathe. Open my mouth. The thin black cloth over my face moves forward and backward. When I inhale, the fabric enters my mouth.
“That should be enough. You shouldn’t remember any of this. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.”
She strokes my cheek. Down my neck. I’m wearing a sweater. She tugs up on the sweater. Cold air hits my stomach and breasts.
“Let’s see what you’re working with.” My bra falls open. “Let’s check out these breasts. I know what they feel like. Didn’t get a good look before.” Cold fingers fondle my breasts. A wetness encapsulates my nipple. “Hmmm…you know? I don’t think these are better than mine. Not sure what he sees in you that he didn’t see in me.”
She tugs on my jeans. I want to twist, to fight, but my body won’t respond.
“While I’m checking things out, let’s see…have you waxed recently? Let’s see how well you maintain yourself. Because, me? I’m a well-maintained girl. Sam deserves the best. Don’t you think?”
Goosebumps prickle my cold skin. I shiver.
“You taste good. Want to know how I know that? I sucked all your juices off after I fingered you. Yum, yum, yum.”
Nausea climbs from deep within to the back of my throat. Please don’t let me vomit. If I vomit, I can’t move my head. She has me tied on some board or table. I can’t move. My heart races.
Pressure falls against my face. She whispers against the side of my head, “You taste so good. Do you think that’s why he likes you? Because you taste good? Or do you have a tight pussy?”
Psychotic laughter rings through the room. “I’m pretty sure I’m not that tight. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you have a very tight pussy.”
Heavy footsteps thunder across the room.
“Tiffany, what the fuck are you doing?” A deep unfamiliar voice vibrates. Angry.
Shouting.
Breathing. So hard to breathe. The nausea intensifies. I struggle to breathe. Like I’m drowning. No water. Can’t get air. Darkness falls.
Chapter 29
Sam
The security apartment is a one-bedroom on the fourth floor in my building. The den includes a wall with monitors. The monitors show feeds coming from a variety of locations. Outside my building, the lobby, the hall to my apartment. The street outside my apartment building. Many angles from my office building, office, and street.
I’m sitting here watching the incessant switch of camera views. It’s crystal clear how much my security team knows about my life. I refused to have any cameras in my home. That felt too intrusive. I’ve been so sensitive about all this shit.
That’s why I didn’t push Olivia on a security detail. I know what it entails. How disconcerting it is to know that every time you leave your apartment, someone is watching. It’s not easy to dismiss that knowledge. But damnit. Now look where we are.
Bill and two of his security guys are leaning over computers. One guy types at a rapid pace. Another appears to be reviewing feeds. Bill’s on the phone, too far away for me to hear what he’s saying, but I know he’s working his connections. He’s a former Navy SEAL. He’s worked with men on Erik Prince’s team, the genius behind Blackwater. I’ve authorized him to spend as much as it takes to pull in whoever and whatever he needs to find Olivia. He has an unlimited budget and one objective. Find Olivia.
After this is over, Olivia’s going to have two full details. Fuck privacy.
There’s a knock on the door to the apartment. The other three men are busy, and I’m the useless one, watching. The guy viewing footage glances over, and I raise my hand, so he knows I’ll get the door. He needs to be working.
I open the door. Anna stands before me, and three men in suits stand behind her. Jackson stands behind them. Anna turns to the man standing closest to her. “Sam, this is Jordan Grayson, Olivia’s uncle. Jordan, this is Sam Duke, Olivia’s boyfriend.”
He extends his arm. When we shake, his grip is firm, and he looks me in the eye. A moment later, he turns to the two men behind him. “John Morgan and Owen Smith. Both are FBI. John is a personal friend of mine. Can we come in?”
I give each a terse nod then direct them down the short hall. “My security team is right t
hat way.”
Jordan and the FBI men walk down the hall, while Anna and Jackson lag behind them. Anna looks like she wants to say something, but I head down the hall to make introductions. Anna and Jackson follow.
When I enter the den, I hear Bill say to whoever he’s on the phone with, “I need to go. I’ll call you back.” He walks toward the kitchen table.
Bill angles his head in a silent question. He wants to know who I invited into his investigation.
“Bill, this is Jordan Grayson, Olivia’s uncle. When he learned of Olivia’s disappearance, he contacted his friend, John Morgan from the FBI. He and his colleague, Owen Smith, are here to talk about the case.”
The muscles along Bill’s jaw flex, as if he’s grinding his teeth. Before I can say anything, Bill speaks, extending his hand to the newcomers.
“Bill Withers. Head security for Esprit Transactions. Also owner of Withers Security Company. The men you see here are employees of mine assigned to Sam’s personal security detail. They are assisting in searching for Olivia. I’ve also been calling in additional resources.”
Jordan stands tall, his eyes bouncing between the monitors on the wall. “What do you know right now?”
“Not much. We haven’t been able to track her phone. We believe she has been taken by Tiffany Lindsey Ray. Sam has a restraining order against her. She’s been obsessed with him for about two years and did make threats against him. We suspect she stole Olivia’s friend’s phone and used that to text her and make plans to meet her. We are working on locating them right now. I have others in another location looking through New York City feeds. Anna mentioned the diamond district, so our focus is in that area.”
“You think she’s in midtown?” Jordan asks, deep lines forming between his eyebrows.
“We do not have any visual leads yet. Only what Anna told us. There are any number of small jewelers located on 47th Street. I have men searching those stores now. Anna last saw Olivia close to noon today.”
The reference to time forces my wrist to rotate. 10:30 p.m. We are pushing eleven hours now. Eleven hours a psycho has been doing god knows what to Olivia.
