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Her word “fine” hangs in the air. She has no idea what I’ve been through, and I won’t be just fine for a long time. Or at least it feels that way. With this guy still out there and since I have no identifying information as to who he is, he’s going to be out there, haunting me.
A crackling comes from the radio, my ears straining to understand what is being said, but I catch every word of it.
“Zoey Holden, age twenty-two, reported missing from Lake Tahoe, California two days ago. Circumstances reported as suspicious, possible kidnapping.”
I stare at the officer, yanking my cuffed wrist to remind him that I’m chained to this bed like I just murdered someone.
“Get this off of me and let me call my parents,” I bark out, turning to the nurse, I answer her, “Yes, I’d like something to eat.”
“Miss, I’m sorry, but we’re still investigating, and we need to rule out that you didn’t steal that car,” he says. “Look at it from my point of view, if I let you go and things turn out to be different than what you say, I could lose my job.”
“You’re going to lose your job either way, buddy,” I spit out, tired of trying to explain things to this idiot. I feel like he went to the Mayberry school for idiot police officers. Maybe there’s a cat in a tree he should be rescuing. That feels like all he’s capable of at this point.
“Can you get me a phone?” I ask the nurse, ignoring the officer who clearly has no intention of helping me, more worried about his career and nabbing the thief who stole a luxury car from an upscale hotel in Tahoe.
The nurse moves a small bedside table closer to me, shifting the bar on the side of the bed down, taking my cuffed wrist with it. This is completely fucking ridiculous and it’s not just because my last name is Holden. It’s ridiculous because no one wants to hear me out, no one cares to know I’m the victim, a victim of something much worse than stealing a car. That should be the least of the police officer’s concern.
Just as I pick up the phone to call my father, the only number I can remember by heart, a man dressed in a suit enters the room. Shoving the door open, he fills the room with a presence that says he’s here to help.
Finally.
“Miss Holden?” he says, walking right up to my bed and past the uniformed officer. “I’m Detective Redding of the Nevada State Police.”
“Thank fuck,” I mutter, dropping the phone back down onto the receiver.
“How are you doing? I’ve contacted your family. As soon as the call came in that you had been found, I rushed over.”
“I’m in Nevada?” I ask, knowing it’s not far over the border of the two states and a part of me always knew this guy who took me would take me into Nevada. It’s more open out here, more abandoned, more discrete.
“Yes, you’re at the Redwood Hospital about thirty miles from Tahoe. I move and the detective’s eyes instantly go to where my wrist is cuffed to the bed, the sound of metal against metal catching his attention.
“Why the hell is she handcuffed to the bedrail?” the detective demands. “She’s not a suspect in anything.”
“Sorry, sir, but she stole a car, and we didn’t have any—” He’s cut short as the detective barks for him to uncuff me, and the officer scrambles around the bed, unlocking the cuffs. I rub my wrist, the bruising and cuts from before still present.
“And her wounds didn’t indicate to you that she was the victim?” the detective asks, his hand reaching for me, holding up my wrist for the officer to see. “Where’s the car now?” the detective says, changing the subject, not letting the officer respond to his initial question.
“It’s been impounded,” he mumbles. “We contacted the owner.”
“You better damn well hope that no one has touched that car. We need to get it to forensics,” Detective Redding says, reaching for his phone, calling in for someone to pick up the car.
The officer stands around awkwardly for a few more minutes before attempting to leave the room silently, but his shoes squeak and the door lets out a high-pitched wail when he opens it. Serves him right for what just happened that he’s embarrassed leaving this room.
“I need to get a statement from you, Zoey, but I’ll give you some time to have something to eat and get your family here. Don’t worry, we’ll catch the guy who did this.” Detective Redding’s words are said with a bite, and something tells me he’s been involved in this case since I was reported missing. “I’ve been in contact with the detective who’s handling your case in Tahoe. He should be arriving soon with your family.”
“Thank you,” I say, finally feeling like I’m waking up from this living nightmare. It’s far from over, but at least I know I’m safe for now.
CHAPTER7
ETHAN
It’s now been forty-eight hours since Zoey was taken and still nothing. No updates on where she is, no updates on who took her and no updates on when I’m getting her back.
I feel like I’m going fucking insane.
The ransom note was no help and weirdly when we got to the police station yesterday and tried calling the number, it never even connected. Just some automated message about the number no longer being in service. Who the fuck sends a ransom note with a number that doesn’t connect?
All of it is bizarre and makes absolutely no sense. It also means that the cops haven’t been able to get a trace on the number either. They haven’t been able to get anything actually, so just like yesterday, we are no closer to knowing what the hell has happened to her or where she is or when I’m getting her back.
