“Oh.” His voice takes on a sadness that hurts me to hear. His brow furrows. “You’ve been talking to her? Without telling me?”
“No. This is the first time she’s reached out since the rodeo. It’s weird actually. She asked me if I was at her door.”
“Huh? Why would—wait, someone is at her door, someone she isn’t expecting?”
Picking up my phone, I type a quick message.
Why? Is everything okay?
I send it and stare at the messages, waiting for a reply. I hear Cash’s movement before I feel him leaning over my shoulder. I see she reads it, and the bubbles pop up, she’s typing.
They stop. We watch. And watch but no text comes through.
We sit in silence for a few minutes before I glance up at Cash and see the same look of concern on his face.
Dialing her number, it rings once before going to voicemail.
“Something seems…off,” he whispers.
“Let’s go.” I stand and walk directly to my truck, Cash behind me. Once I’m behind the wheel, I lean over and pop the glove box open, nodding satisfactorily when I see what I’m looking for.
“You really think we will need that?” Cash nods his head toward the weapon.
“I hope not.”
Spinning tires out of his driveway, we speed toward her apartment.
It takes twelve minutes, a drive of usually twenty. Pulling in next to her car, I see there are no other cars in the lot.
“I don’t see anyone,” Cash says as I peer up at her windows. There’s only a single light on in the living room, but no other indications of anything.
“She’s up; the light’s on. I sure hope we don’t feel like idiots.” Grabbing the .44 Magnum from the glove box, I climb out. I check the cartridge and the safety, before sliding it in the pocket holster and into my pocket. Cash closes the door slowly, like we are on a secret mission. I don’t bother with the stealth, slamming my own door and he jumps. I would have laughed under normal circumstances.
Rounding the truck, he whispers, “What now?”
“Now we go to the door, see if we hear anything. Maybe knock? I’m not sure, this is my first rescue mission.” I look at him sidelong.
We walk to the door and stand there, anticlimactically, while we wait to figure out if something will happen.
“Thedoor looks intact so if someone is in there, she let them in,” I tell him, studying the lock. I give the handle a jiggle.
“What if, it’s like a boyfriend or something, and we are just hovering outside the door like creepy stalkers?” he asks, his voice full of tension, and a little fearful. I can’t tell what he’s afraid of though in this proposed scenario.
“Well, she shouldn’t have texted me. I was fine where I was.”
I take out my phone and call her again which goes straight to voicemail this time.
“Seriously, Duke, I don’t know what to do. We are just lurking around, but everything seems fine.” We stand there for another minute, maybe two before both of us hear a thud and a muffled cry.
“That’s it.” Pushing me out of the way, Cash raises a single booted foot, and holding onto the doorframe, kicks the door through the opening.
I follow Cash through the door and the apartment seems silent. We both wait at the bottom of the stairs, and I draw the gun from my pocket, holding it at my side, safety on but my finger hovers above it. I can just faintly hear crying, like a sniffling, trying to stop the tears, crying. Then a furious whispering.
“Call the police,” I whisper to Cash as I squeeze past him in the small entry. I hear him pull his phone out and a slight metallic ting. I glance over my shoulder and see he’s got a blade out, his pocketknife. Anything is better than nothing, I suppose.
He whispers the address before hanging up and we start slowly ascending the stairs, on edge, trying to figure out what’s happening. Once we reach the top, I peer over the half wall that surrounds the stairwell. Her lamp is knocked over and a pink fluffy pillow is on the floor. Everything else seems in place. Moving toward the hallway, the muffled cryinggets louder but sounds like her mouth is covered, and I swear, it better be her own hand covering it or I will kill the person it’s attached to.
I wave a hand to keep Cash close to my back, clicking the safety off, as we approach her closed bedroom door. Her crying gets louder and so do the whispers. They are male and angry and it’s pissing me off. My hand shakes, and my back shudders. My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my entire body. Cash’s hand rests between my shoulders, calming me, and I briefly wonder if he can feel my heart. I square my shoulders; there will be time for falling apart later.
