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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THEO
“The amount of boxes you have is a bit much, Dad,” Brenda complains as I load another one into the moving truck.
“That’s thirty-plus years. What do you expect?” my dad counters. I’m not engaging. All I can think about is getting home to Hanna and making up for lost time.
“You could toss some stuff. Hoarding is a real problem, you know.” Her phone rings, and she hands me the box she was toting.
“Hey, Big Mike, what’s up?” I put the box down, then turn back to her, while Dad goes to get another box from the house, and we follow suit. “Wait, she didn’t show? That’s not like Hanna.” My eyes hone in on my sister when we make it to the living room. Hanna would never miss work or be late, and she hasn’t called, so she can’t be having car trouble or something typical like that. “No, I will call her. I’m sorry. Thanks, Big Mike.” She turns to me. “Hanna didn’t show up. I’m going to call her. If I can’t get a hold of her, you’re on your own with helping pack up.”
“What do you mean she didn’t show?” It’s rhetorical, I’m already on a mission. My heart rate jackhammers through my chest.
“She didn’t show up for her shift today, and when they called her, it went to voicemail. They tried a couple of times.” Her eyes mirror what I’m feeling inside. Gut-wrenching worry.
I grab my phone and start calling her. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail. I holler out the word “fuck!” each time.
“Answer me, baby.”
When she doesn’t, I open up my phone and look for my tracking app.
“Son, calm down. Maybe she fell asleep or lost her phone,” my father says, and I all but growl, peering up through angry eyes. This even has the man who raised me stammering a little.
“I’m checking the tracker on her phone,” I tell them.
“The what?” Brenda exclaims.
“What?” I bark back, shaking my phone, because the app is running slow.
“You put a damn tracker on her phone, Theo?” she scolds me, my father following up with his own commentary.
“Son.”
“Enough.” It finally starts running at optimum speed, and I see her phone blinking. It’s in her entryway.
“Where the fuck are you?” I call her again. Voicemail.
“Did you add this before or after she knew the truth?”
“After,” I growl.
“Theo, that’s crazy,” she breathes, and I go looking for my keys amongst all the shit.
“She might have tried to leave me, and I told her she couldn’t. Ever.” Both my father and my sister judge my sanity in that moment. I don’t even have to look at them to feel it. It’s radiating off them, and I don’t give one single goddamn fuck.
I find my keys, and then I’m gone. I can feel it—she’s a fucking part of me, and I know she’s in danger. My puppet is in danger, and I’m not fucking there. God dammit.
“Fuck!”
Running to the truck, I’m out of there in seconds, ignoring Brenda and my father yelling after me. I speed, calling her over and over and still getting nothing. When I’m just able to see over the hill, I spot the black truck, and my heart sinks. Whoever was after her, got to her and I let them. I would ruminate in this, but there is no time. Saving my girl is the one and only priority I have.
“No, baby. Fuck.” I park the truck in the ditch a hundred yards up the road. I don’t want him knowing I’m here. Reaching over, I grab my Glock out of the glove compartment, and I climb out. I approach the house quietly, going around the back. The dogs are in the house still, but they must be locked up, because I hear them barking from the bedroom window.
Approaching the back door, I open it quietly—so quiet I almost don’t hear it. I step in and shut the door just as silently as I opened it. I hear voices coming from the foyer, and I cling to the wall of the hallway and slowly move along it, not wanting the wood to creak.
“You’re a vicious little bitch. We could have been so good together. You think he fucks good? I saw you both in that window. He is nothing compared to what I am. But now we have to end it. If I don’t get you, no one can, and no one can stay on the run forever.” His words make every ounce of blood in me boil. This sick fuck saw, watched, and got a look at my puppet. No one gets access to her like I do. No one.
I’m now clinging to the wall midway of the stairs, and I can see them. He towers over her, and she is in a chair tied up by the bottom of the stairs in only a towel.
