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I was trapped in the dark, and I couldn't get out, and I kept calling and you wouldn't answer.
His phone started to ring. It wasn't her ring tone, but he'd gotten another call, not long after the first one this evening, from a number he hadn't recognized, and he'd answered and heard nothing, and known it was her.
But this time, call display showed a client's name. He hit Ignore and flipped to his voice messages. He was going to listen. He should have listened, damn it. Just in case.
As the first message played, his heart picked up speed with every word. Tristan? The hospital? Goddamn it, yes, that was a trap, and she shouldn't have gone without him.
And how the hell was she supposed to know that when you wouldn't answer your fucking telephone? Besides, she has Ricky.
That didn't matter. Yes, Ricky would look after her, but no matter how much he knew, he didn't really understand. He couldn't.
How many times over the last week had Gabriel felt that kernel of jealousy grow, felt that Ricky was taking everything, leaving nothing that was his alone? This was. Ricky didn't understand the magnitude of the situation, of the danger, the threat, because if he did, he'd be on that phone himself, telling Gabriel to quit his sulking and get the hell down there to help her.
Gabriel rolled out of bed and grabbed his trousers from the chair.
Now you're going to help her? Three hours after she called? Much too little, much too late, and you know it.
That's when he remembered the second message. Calling to tell him it was all right? Situation resolved?
He played the message, and when he finished listening, he pounded in her number, punching the keys so hard that he kept striking two at once.
It's been an hour. A goddamn hour. She needed you, and you rolled over and went back to sleep.
The phone rang once. He exhaled, eyes closed, waiting to hear her voice telling him it was fine, she was fine, they were fine. And by the way, Gabriel? Get the fuck out of my life and stay there.
The line clicked.
"I'm sor--" he began.
A computerized voice intoned, "The customer you are trying to reach is not available. Please--"
He grabbed his shirt and raced out the door.
--
Gabriel strode down the corridor of the main hospital building. That seemed to be where Olivia had called from, if he was inferring correctly. No, not inferring. Not deducing, either. He was worried enough to strip away those logical explanations and admit the truth to himself.
I know she's here. I just know it.
As for "where" here, well, that was the problem. He'd tried calling on the drive. Tried Ricky, too, only to get the same "customer unavailable" message.
He climbed to the second floor, and when he walked along the main corridor, a board creaked overhead. A footstep sounded, then another.
So where the hell were the stairs? He continued down the hall and found them. Broken steps, half the treads rotted, but footprints on the remaining ones. As he climbed, he saw someone passing in the hall above. The figure stopped.
"Gabriel. Thank God. I-- Whoa! Stop!" Ricky's hand shot out, palm up. "That whole stair is rotted. I already put my foot through it. Step over it to the next one."
Gabriel grunted and did that. "Where's Olivia?"
"I was hoping you'd tell me. She's here. I know she's here."
That knot of jealousy tightened. Of course he knows, too.
"What happened?"
"We were talking outside, in this little graveyard, and the next thing I know, she's walking toward this building. I go to grab her and it's like grabbing air, and all of a sudden she's ten feet ahead of me, and when I get in here, she's gone completely. I know something like that happened with you, so I went back out and waited, figuring I hadn't really seen her leave. When she didn't reappear, I came in. Only I can't find her, and it's been two damned hours. I've scoured every inch of this place."
Gabriel nodded. "We'll do it again. Systematically, room by room."
