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The morning air is brisk, but I throw on a jacket and decide to take a walk. I have to testify in the trial today against the Moretti family, and it’s got me feeling shaky. Frank, the lead detective on the case,assured me everything is wrapped up tight. With the evidence I handed over and my testimony, the boss, is going away for a long time. Still, part of me wonders where Ashley is. She’s the baby and obviously spoiled, but I have a gut feeling she doesn’t like her little plan blowing up in daddy’s face. She’s the one that brought me into the mess, and I’m the man responsible for finally putting him behind bars. How long he stays there is up to the judge and jury today.
I make it to a diner a few miles from Fitzy’s complex, and as luck would have it, a text comes in from the meddling grandma.
Grandma Fitzy: “Give me details, or I’ll drag them out of you.”
Me: “It was perfect. Downright magical. Thank you for all your help, grandma ??”
Grandma Fitzy: “Good. I hope you didn’t get any sleep. Winking face.”
I laugh at her spelled-out emoji.
Grandma Fitzy: “I know what today is, so please come by my condo as soon as you can.”
Me: “I will. Grabbing breakfast now. Would you like anything?”
Grandma Fitzy: “Carbs would be great. I got a headache trying to split my brain in two.”
I can’t help but shake my head at her crazy lifestyle. The waitress comes up to take my order, so I pocket my phone. She’s a nice lady, late fifties, who goes on and on about her grandbabies. Even shows me a few adorable pictures on her cell before handing over my food. I give my thanks with promises to come back and bring Blair next time.
Making my way back to my unit, I stop at Fitzy’s first, and she answers before my knuckle hits the door.
“Come in, come in.” She ushers me inside, and sure enough, Frank is parked out on her couch, files sitting on the table, but this time a big smile spreads across his face. I shoot a quick text to Blair to let her know I ran out for breakfast, and although I wanted to be back by now, I have to deal with the FBI details first.
“Today’s the day, my boy,” Franks says, stands, and slaps me on my shoulder like we’re old pals. “You ready to get your life back on track?”
“I’m ready.” Is my simple reply. The truth is my life is now better than it was before, so aside from the life-threatening drama, I’m actually grateful that the whole ordeal brought me back to my girl. I don’t know how I ever would have found her again. That said, I am more than ready for the freedom of not checking over my shoulder anytime I want to venture outside the complex.
“I bet you are my boy. I bet you are.” His words are full of sympathy I don’t want. I didn’t ask for this, but the entire situation just makes me feel weak. I grew up being the skinny kid that got picked on until one day I had enough. Hit the gym, started eating non-stop, even to the point I set an alarm to wake me up in the middle of the night so I could inhale more calories. My mom knew, and instead of worrying about the bullies, she supported me. Buying extra groceries without complaint, even though the expense had to have been a burden.
Suddenly someone starts pounding on the front door, breaking me out of my thoughts. Fitzy looks at Frank nervously, and he hurries to the door and peeks out the peephole. He nods back at her to open the door, but she only opens it a small crack.
“It’s Blair.” Sylvia’s voice comes from the other side. She sounds winded, and as soon as I hear Blair’s name, I’m on my feet. I pull the door open, and Sylvia is in hysterics. Tears stain her face; mascara runs down her cheeks.
“They just pushed her into a van and sped off. I ran out the door after them, but they were long gone by the time I got past the bloody wankers, all gawking like someone’s getting kidnapped; let’s take a fucking selfie. I tell ya, I want to fucking murder them.”
“What! Who has Blair?” I roar, instantly filled with fear and rage that someone has my girl. I need to get to her. I need to make her safe.
“I don’t know. Some woman with bright red hair and at least one other wanker driving. I didn’t see the plates. I’m sorry, Oliver.”
Bright red hair. Ashley.
My phone rings. An unknown caller is on my display. My heart rate escalates as I slowly swipe across the green answer button.
“Don’t testify today, or your girlfriend dies.” It’s Ashley’s voice. Brave. She doesn’t even bother to disguise it.
“Where are you, Ashley?”
Silence is my only reply until the line goes dead. She’s hung up, maybe surprised that I recognized her voice, or she simply thinks she’s already won. Either way, I will find her.
“I have to find her. Frank, Fitzy, what are our resources?”
“Video footage from the street. You guys can run the van’s plates, right?” Sylvia suggests.
“I’ll send a guy to get that from you and the other owners,” Frank says, nodding and excuses himself to make the necessary calls, and Sylvia heads back to close the coffee shop.
I feel lost, useless and physically sick. I stumble into the nearby chair in the kitchen and sit. Fitzy brings me a coffee and a slice of coffee cake.
“I know a guy,” is all she says when she sits down in front of me.
