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“You’re sure she isn’t over there,” the police officer points to a group of people huddled not too far. “A bunch of people came rushing out after the incident.”
I search the small grouping.
“No, I don’t see her,” I tell him.
He nods. “Make it quick. We’re going from building to building. We want to keep the area clear and we’re searching for witnesses.”
“I understand.”
I run as fast as my legs can carry me.
This is a fairly isolated part of Culver City at night, since the buildings surrounding us are all old warehouses converted into offices and studios. It’s a different story during the day, but most everyone is home at this time of night. The sophisticated security system and cameras were huge selling features to the building we leased. Considering the value of our high-end exercise equipment, it’s a must. I thought we had all our bases covered in preventing any possible theft. I never thought we’d need protection against the carnage I just witnessed.
When I reach Jules’s office, my panic kicks up several notches.
A quick inspection of the building fills me with dread.
Some of the windows are shattered.
The sight snaps my heart into two.
Please, God, no.
Then it hits me.
I left the set of keys to her office at my studio. I didn’t think I’d need them tonight.
Panic assails me all over again. My airway cuts off and I stare at the doorknob, helpless. I jam my fingers through my hair and pull hard. My mind races as I hurry through my options. My blood pressure roars in my ears, right along with the alarming sirens telling me to get inside this goddamn office by any means necessary because Jules needs me. She could be injured, or worse…
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Something slams against the recesses of my stomach, and if it wasn’t for my desperate need to make sure my girl is alive, I’d allow my fear to paralyze me. Snapping out of it, I search the area for a blunt object, but I’m out of luck.
Fuck.
A cocktail of fear, worry and adrenaline make my head swim, but determination to get to my girl pushes me into action. I lift my foot and kick just to the side of the doorknob, putting everything I have into it.
Nothing.
So much for testing the security. It works.
In my frustration, I grab the handle, ready to shake the hell out of it. When I do, it twists.
She didn’t even lock it?!
Jesus Christ.
She must’ve been too consumed with cleaning and organizing to even remember.
Goddammit.
With shaky hands, I carefully push the door open and tiptoe inside.
I’m not a gun owner, but right now, I wish I were.
It’s pitch black.
Going by memory alone, I tap along the wall until I find a light switch and flick it on.
