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“What do you mean, a fuckin’ alias? You’re tellin’ me you don’t have anything on him?” I ground out, livid that Fred hired this dude without running a background check on him.
“Relax, my man. That is where my expertise lies.” Zander says, pulling a laptop out of the bookbag he’s carrying. Zander’s been working freelance security for the last few months, working for the local precincts here and there when they need someone found in not-so-legal ways or they need his brain. He drops down in the chair across from us, opening the computer and banging away on it. “Lex pull up your call log. What time did Whitley call you?” She unlocks her phone and pulls the call up for him to see. He continues punching keys on the computer and I stand from the couch, pacing the length of the living room. How could I be so selfish to not tell her when all this shit between us first started? I yank on the ends of my hair, feeling completely fucking unhinged.
A rapid knock at the door interrupts us and Lex rushes to answer it with me right behind her. She flings the door open and its Leaf, from the coffee shop.
“Leaf, honey, what’s wrong?” Lex asks and he shoves past her, scanning the room before his eyes land on Jensen.
“You’re a cop, right?” He asks and I take in his appearance. Dark circles under his eyes, his clothes disheveled. Jensen affirms that he is in fact a cop. “I was on my way to the station, but I saw your cruiser out front. I need your help. Indigo didn’t come home last night.” Lex gasps, her hands covering her mouth.
“When did you last see her?” Jensen asks, pulling out a pad of paper.
“Last night around five p.m. We were working and she had a migraine, so I told her to go on home and I would close up the shop. When I got home around eight thirty, she wasn’t there. I retraced the trip she would have taken home, but I didn’t see anything.”
“Did she drive herself home?” Jensen asks, scribbling more shit on his notepad.
“No, she walked. We always drive together, and I told her to take the car, but she said the fresh air would help and that she wanted to walk.” Leaf’s voice cracks at the end of that statement and Lex pulls him in for a hug.
Jensen meets my eyes, his face grim, as he pulls his phone out.
“Chantelle, it’s Jensen. I need you to round up any available units and send them to Ford James’s house, ASAP. We have two missing women that I need a BOLO out on, now.”
“Got it! So that call to Lex pinged at a tower near Road Z,” Zander starts, clicking more buttons, “somewhere within a ten mile radius.” I peer over his shoulder at the screen, looking at the location on the map. “Now usually, I could hack into the street cameras.”
“Fuck, James. Seriously?” Jensen grits out, sliding his phone back in his pocket.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Zander murmurs, inputting more information and opening more screens. He zooms in the location where we think she may have been picked up. “As I was saying, I can’t hack street cameras since there aren’t any, but we might get lucky and someone may have caught something on a security camera.” He starts packing everything up.
“I’ll stay here and let you know if I hear from Whitley. Leaf, why don’t you stay with me, too. I’ll make you some hot tea. Dean, I’ll send Ford when he gets home,” Lex says, squeezing me in a hug. “Go find our girl,” she whispers, tears springing to her eyes. I’ll fucking kill Kolby with my bare hands if he hurts Whitley.
Whitley
My stomach rolls, the urge to vomit overwhelming. I roll over, dry heaving off the edge of the bed, but nothing comes up. I sit up and the entire room spins, causing me to groan, my head throbbing. No clue how long I’ve been here, it feels like days but it’s probably not. Making my way to the small toilet in the corner of the room on wobbly legs, I do my business and lean against the sink, slurping water from my hands.
Meandering around the small cement room, I try the door handle. Locked. Of course. The only window is super small with bars on it and all the way at the top of the wall. I assume this is some sort of basement. Save for the toilet and sink, there’s not much in here at all. Just the bed and a small nightstand. I check the drawers, lookin’ for anything that I could use as a weapon or to try to unlock the door. Nothing. No clock on the wall to tell me what time it is. Is anyone even looking for me?
There’s a bottle of water that I didn’t notice on the floor by the door, along with a sandwich of some sort. My stomach growls. I’m starving but not willing to eat or drink anything he brings me because it could have something in it. He already put drugs in my system so who knows that the hell is in that. I’ll die of starvation before I touch anything he brings me.
The time passes slowly. I listen for sounds above me, but it’s quiet. No footsteps, no voices. I can’t hear anything from the small window either. I’ve screamed for help until my throat is raw. I can only hope someone outside hears me and calls the police. I can’t hear any cars, unsure where we are even at.
I slide down the wall, sitting on the floor and pulling my knees up to my chest. Will I ever see Dean again? My friends? My mom? Tears fall from my eyes and I brush them away. I won’t go down without a fight, that’s for damn sure.
Zander
Scanning the area, I look for anything out of place. Clothing, blood, tire tracks. We’ve been up one side of the road where Whitley’s cell phone pinged, and we are making our way slowly back down the other side of it. Jensen called the department and asked them to send a K9 unit. Dean is walking the tree line, out of his mind with worry. Shit, I would be too if my girlfriend went missing suddenly. I’m pissed I couldn’t find more information from that phone call she made.
The rains last night were heavy, downpours lasted basically all night long. Any blood that may have been here could have been washed away. I scrub my hands over my face and prop my fists on my hips, racking my brain. There are no houses like I hoped there would be so we could pull any security camera footage.
“Zander!” Dean hollers from ahead of me, stooped down inspecting something. I jog over to him and he points at an earring on the ground. “That’s one of Whit’s,” he grits out, hand flexing into a fist. I whistle for Jensen to bring me an evidence bag from his cruiser. Bagging it carefully before I pass it off to Jensen, I stand and scan the area where it was found, not seeing much more indication that anyone was here. The K-9 unit pulls up and unloads the dog.
Dean is detached from the group, taking everything in. I meander over and clap him on the shoulder.
“Listen dude, we’ll find her. I promise,” I say, knowing I’m confident in my skills and the police department. I didn’t work special forces for all those years for nothing. Can’t count the number of missing people I found overseas, pulled them out of shitty situations. I also can’t count the number of times I’ve almost been killed for it.
Dean lets out a shaky breath. “I’m just mad at myself for lettin’ her walk off like that.”
“Now, you and I both know Whitley. I’m sure there was no room for discussion on it,” I say, and he huffs out a laugh, a lone tear slipping out of his eye. “Now come on, let’s go see if the K9 has found anything.
We both head into the woods, pushing the thick brush out of our way, following the trail the officer took. Shit, if she did run this way this is some thick terrain. It’d be hard to push through for someone of her size. The K9 is sniffing, zig zagging back and forth along the branches and brush. He pulls his handler over to a tree, whining before sitting down stock still.
