I stand in Sam’s empty apartment, thinking of all the things I could have handled differently, anything that would lead me to having Sam in my arms now.
Her studio is torn apart, having been searched, along with the unit downstairs. After reviewing her cameras, someone spotted Darryl going in and out of the lower apartment. He was just biding his time, waiting for the right moment to spring out and take her. I gave him that moment.
I do one of the only things that I think might help. I make a call. Vince, my ex-agent, promises the world on a platter. I ask for a single press conference.
I petition the media for help, standing outside her store. I beg for anyone’s assistance to help bring her home. I choke up, not sure if what I’m saying is even understandable.
They run with the story. They put Samantha West’s face everywhere, and she is nowhere to be found.
I sit watching the news unfold, the small-town community she grew up in rallies around one of their own, admitting something seemed wrong with the pretty young girl who would often sport a black eye or limp. Nobody wanted to believe Sheriff Darryl was capable of such a thing.
I get phone calls updating me of every lead, but they all turn into dead ends. His house holds no clue as to where they may be. The apartment below hers is a mess, walls full of holes, cabinets smashed, some ripped clear off the wall. They tell me they found a few small holes drilled in the floor, so he could either listen or watch her from downstairs.
As disturbing as that is, it’s just another nail in my coffin. Was it me insinuating myself into her life that made him crack? Maybe if I'd just left her alone he never would have escalated things this far.
Days and nights pass. I can't sleep, and can't stand being surrounded by her things, but can't bring myself to leave her studio. I'm slowly losing my mind.
Brian calls every day with updates on how things are going down in Alabama.
It's always the same, "Nothing new yet, Beau, but she's strong. She's tough, just hold on. We'll find her."
Twelve days pass, and I have to do something different. She's out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her, and I'm afraid to leave her apartment, fearing she might come home and find it empty.
Without telling Brian, I make flight arrangements and charter a small plane to Mississippi and fly into a small airport closer to her home than the airport in Birmingham.
I rent an SUV and find my way to where Brian is staying.
