Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I sat back and let the first kidnapper climb up beside me into the driver’s seat. I let them fasten a seat belt around my waist and pull it tight.
“I’m pregnant,” I whispered.
The man’s eyes softened incrementally, and he let go of the belt. “Just don’t move,” he said, settling back against the door.
“I won’t,” I promised. “But I think I should get to a doctor.”
The two men exchanged an emotionless glance across me, and I read it with horror. They didn’t care about me or my baby. They weren’t going to take me to a doctor, because they planned to kill me. Wherever we were going, it was a one-way ticket. I began to run scenarios through my mind as the driver shifted into gear. There was no way I was going down without a fight.
27
MIKE
Ifinished my whole sordid story and waited for Jason and Dillon to react. It was strange, having friends who would actually help me instead of bringing me down. We decided to attack the problem two ways.
“I’ll work the legitimate angle from here,” Jason said. “I’ll have some patrol guys go out looking for a crash, and I’ll call the hospitals. You and Dillon go find Porter.”
“I think he’s clean now,” I protested.
“He knows something. If the worst has happened, he may know where to find her,” Jason said.
I nodded, standing up. There was no time to waste. Dillon and I raced to the parking lot and hopped into my truck. I didn’t know where Porter was staying. I had only seen him twice since getting out of jail. I didn’t even have his cell phone number. Instead, I drove to his old home, where he had lived with his parents when we were in high school. The entire way there, I kept my fingers crossed, praying.
It was nine o’clock by the time we knocked on the door. I had some sympathy for an older couple, but I didn’t care. My pounding reflected my own desperation. After a wasted minute, an eighty-year-old man answered the door, shotgun in hand.
“What do you what?” he snarled.
“Mr. Hayes.” I held my hands up, “It’s me, Mike Newbury.”
“Mike?” The man lowered his weapon, squinting. “What the hell?”
“I need to find Porter.”
The man cursed, shaking his head and turning back into the house.
“Please.” I followed him. “It’s important.”
“I figured that much.” Porter’s dad found a pencil and paper near an old landline phone in the hallway. “What has Porter done now?”
“It’s nothing that he’s done.” I rubbed my neck anxiously while I waited for him to transcribe the address.
Mr. Hayes handed over the note. “Now get outta my house.”
I grabbed it and retreated to the front steps. Dillon was waiting, and I passed the note to him. We jumped in the truck and sped away, Dillon typing the address into the GPS as I drove. We arrived at what looked like a respectable home in one of the suburban neighborhoods off Main Street. I checked the note again to make sure we had the right address. It seemed to be legitimate. I couldn’t imagine Porter having enough money to rent this place, and it looked more like a single-family home than a halfway house.
I climbed out of the truck, aware that I was battling the clock. I hurried up the steps, Dillon at my heels. We knocked, more respectfully this time. A middle-aged man who was not Porter came to the door in a bathrobe.
“I’m Mike Newbury, a friend of Porter Hayes,” I introduced myself. “Is Porter here?”
The man sighed, moving aside to let us in. We crowded into a foyer with vaulted ceilings. “Wait here,” the man said.
A minute later, Porter emerged from the kitchen, smiling. “Mike!” He took my hand, seeming to disregard my state of panic. “Thanks for visiting. But how did you—”
“We stopped by your parents’ place.” I answered the question before it was asked. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
“Sure.” Porter nodded, ushering us through the kitchen to a door in the back. When we stepped through, I finally understood. There was an entire apartment in the garage, a bed, dresser, and mini fridge collected in the center, television mounted to the wall. The mechanical garage doors were closed, giving the illusion of a fourth wall. “I’m renting the garage,” Porter explained. “Do you want a soda?”
“No,” I said. “Porter, this is Dillon. He’s Tammy’s cousin-in-law?” I squinted through the familial connection, checking with Dillon to see if I got it right.
Dillon nodded. It didn’t matter anyway.
I sped on with the mission, determined to get it all out as quickly as possible. “Tammy’s missing.”
“Oh no.” Porter sat on his bed, stunned.
“If your old business associates are involved, do you have any idea where she might be?” I continued.
Porter nodded, looking up at Dillon first, then back at me. “I might.”