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She has been in and out of the building all day, and now she isn’t here. It isn’t like her to be late. When I bought her coffee in the lobby earlier, she seemed excited for this evening.

Maybe that piece of shit minivan broke down somewhere. She needs a bigger and more reliable delivery vehicle. The white cube truck she used for Rob’s service was only a rental.

What if she was in an accident?

Swiping my cell off the desk, I pull up her number and call, but it just rings and goes to voicemail. I open my laptop and find the tracker app I snuck into her phone. It’s at the store. So, I try calling there. No answer. I try both numbers again. Still no answer.

A wave of panic sweeps over me. It’s been years since I’ve felt something like this, and I hated it then too. Fear is for the weak, and yet the pounding of my heart and my scattered thoughts make me feral.

I’m about to try again when my phone rings from a restricted number. It’s not unusual in my line of work to receive restricted calls. My thumb hovers over end, assuming it’s a new client or something else that can wait.

But…what if I’m wrong?

“Mr. Mitchell here,” I answer, and hear a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Alden, it’s me.”

My fear turns darker when I hear her voice.

“Emily…what the hell is going on? Where are you?”

“I don’t have much time. I’m only allowed three minutes. I’ll explain everything when I see you. I’ve been arrested. Can you…can you come get me out of here?”

“Wait…you were arrested?”

“Yes.”

My jacket and keys are already in my hands as I march for the office door.

“On what grounds?”

“Assaulting an officer,” she grumbles.

I hear the annoyance in her voice and know without asking that this has something to do with Jen Hiller.

“Which precinct? I’m on my way,” I growl.

There is no way Emily randomly assaults any officer, let alone seek out Jen and attack her. What the hell happened to make Emily choose violence? Jen will be lucky if she’s not hanging in my little chamber this weekend.

“I’m at precinct one. My time is up.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

I barely remember starting the car and the tires squealing as I leave the underground parking. Rage and terror sit heavy on my chest. It’s been twelve years since I last felt like this, and I never want to experience this combination ever again.

“Fuck, I feel like garbage.”

Why I let Malcolm talk me into going to that stupid kegger I’ll never know. I’m still getting over the flu, and the music and people just set me off all over again. My body aches, and my head is pounding. I’m tempted to sleep in the car just so that I don’t run into my father.

The bastard has stopped even trying to hide his disgusting affairs from me. But he won’t bring them around when Mom is home. With her out of town, the likelihood that he has some woman in there with him is high. I don’t see a car, so maybe I’ll get lucky for once.

Dragging my sorry ass inside and up the stairs, I’m just about to go into my room and crash when a scream stops me.

Are you kidding me?

Loathing clogs my throat, but then I hear another scream, and it feels like ice water is running down my back.

It doesn’t sound right, not like the lustful wails of pleasure. Whoever just screamed is terrified. I push the sick feeling aside, jog down the hall, turn the corner, and sprint to the spare room he likes to use.