Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Stop. I know I’m not supermodel thin. I just want to tone up. I’d like my tummy to be a little flatter, my arms and legs to be a little more defined.”
“You look great, but there certainly are a few exercises we could do. I can definitely help you get a little more definition in your arms. And, as for your stomach, we’ll just work on your core strength. That’s important for your whole body, and it will help tone up your abs as well.”
“Sounds great. Let’s get started.”
“You’re going to hate what I have to say first, though.”
I roll my eyes. “I know. Cardio. A freaking half hour of cardio.”
“Right. And the elliptical is your best bet, Mandy. It actually works muscle groups as you move, which the treadmill and bike don’t really do, other than your legs.”
“What the heck. If I’m serious about this, I need to take your advice. Lead me to the damned elliptical.”
After Michael kicks my ass for an hour, I head home and finish my work for the day. For dinner, I make myself a Lean Cuisine. Good enough. Now for a night of Netflix bingeing.
It’s been that kind of day.
It’s been that kind of couple of days.
My phone rings, and I don’t recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail.
Who cares anyway?
I fall asleep on the couch with Roger curled in my arms.
…
I jerk awake, still on the sofa, as my phone alarm blares at seven a.m. I rise, still in my workout clothes, and take Roger out for a quick walk around the block to do his business.
When I return, I grab my phone and notice I have a voicemail.
The call from last night.
I tap in my code.
“Hi, Mandy, it’s Ben Black. I’m wondering if you’ve heard from Jackson. He didn’t show up for work today, and he didn’t call, which isn’t like him. He’s not answering his cell phone or his landline at his place, and I got your number from his emergency contact form with personnel. Give me a call if you hear from him, please. Thanks.”
Jackson didn’t go to work yesterday?
That’s not like him.
My heart thuds in my stomach.
That’s not like him at all.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Jackson
Brain mush. Bits and pieces come back to me in fragments.
My name.
They keep asking me my name.
I think it begins with J.
You’ve had a bad concussion, sir. You’re in the ER.
You may need surgery, sir. We’re sending you up for an MRI.
Good news, sir. You don’t have any bleeding in your brain.
How did I get here?
Brain mush.
And then sleep. Blessed sleep.
Except they keep waking me up. Checking my vitals, looking into my eyes with that damned bright light.
Sir, do you know where you are? Do you know your name?
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
Then sleep again.
Until they wake me again.
Sir, is there anyone we can call?
Call? I don’t know. What’s my name? I don’t know.
“Mandy,” I say.
“Mandy? Is that your wife?”
I say nothing more. I think my name begins with J.
“For now, he’s a John Doe,” someone says. “No ID on him.”
No ID. My wallet.
Someone took my wallet.
I think I was walking. Late at night. Early in the morning. The bakeries hadn’t opened yet. No yeasty smell of the first bake…
But then everything goes dark. And I don’t know.
I’m here. Somehow, I’m here.
They don’t let me sleep for long. Someone is always squeezing my arm with that blood pressure cuff, checking my vitals, my pulse ox, and then of course the dreaded light in my eyes.
“They still look good,” someone says.
They? What are they?
“We’re going to do a repeat CT,” another voice says. “Just to make sure you don’t have a slow bleed that we couldn’t see earlier.”
Into the tube again. MRI? CT? I’m not sure which one.
I think my name begins with a J.
“Mandy,” I say inside the tube. “Mandy.”
Back in my room. I think there might be another guy in here with me. I’m not sure.
They check me again.
“Good news, sir. No brain bleed. Just a tiny bit of swelling, which should go down on its own. Do you remember yet? Do you remember your name?”
“Mandy. I need to see Mandy.”
“Is she your wife? Do you have her number? You didn’t have any ID or phone on you when you were brought in, sir.”
“Mandy. Mandy Thomas.”
“Try to find Mandy Thomas,” the person examining me says to someone else.
“That’s a pretty common name.”
“It’s all we have to go on. Get the police involved. They’ll be able to find her.”
“Sir, who is Mandy Thomas? Is she your wife?”
“Not married.”
“Your mother? Sister? Girlfriend?”
“Everything. Mandy is everything.”
My eyes close, and I’m left in the dark.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Amanda
I hastily call Ben while my heart rages against my chest.
“Black,” he says.
“It’s Amanda—Mandy—Thomas.”
“Thank God. Have you heard from Jackson?”
“No, and you’ve scared me half to death. What’s going on?”