Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Call Cobi and ask him if he can put out an APB.”
“I will.”
“Love you, kid. It will be okay.”
“Right.” I try to breathe, but my chest feels tight.
“It will be okay.”
“Love you, Dad.” I hang up with him and dial Cobi.
“What’s up, man?”
“I need you to put out an APB for Olivia’s friend’s car.”
“What?”
“She went out with friends after work, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of her or the friend she was with.”
“How long has she been missing?”
“Does it fucking matter?” I bite out.
“I need to know so that I can put that information over the scanner along with the car she drives and how she looks,” he says calmly.
“Right. I don’t know, two hours maybe. She might be in her friend’s car, a black BMW x5. You already know how she looks.”
“Alright, let me make a call, and I’ll get out on the road.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly before I hang up and head toward the water tower where Amy said Kourtney’s parents lived. I rarely come out to this side of town. It’s just dirt roads and open pastures, but with no exact place to look, it seems as good as any to start.
CHAPTER 29
Olivia
With my heart racing and my hand wrapped tight around Kourtney’s, I watch the guy who approached us as we walked to my car after leaving Blue’s pace back and forth in front of us, muttering to himself. I didn’t recognize him, with his longer hair, scraggly beard, and obvious weight loss. He pointed a gun at us and ordered us into Kourtney’s car that he made me drive because Kourtney was in distress— for good reason—and couldn’t stop crying. It wasn’t until we arrived at the dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere and he started rambling about how I cost him everything that I realized he was one of the furniture delivery guys taken away by the cops outside of Kourtney’s house weeks ago.
“Please, just let us go.” Kourtney whimpers, and he stops pacing and points the gun at her before swinging it over to me.
“Shut her the fuck up.”
“She’s just scared.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she buries her face against my chest as she sobs. “Let her go. It’s obvious your problem is with me, not her.”
“No.” He walks to where there is a pile of clothes and a backpack in the corner of the room. As he starts to dig through his things, I debate getting up and trying my luck at overpowering him. The only thing keeping me in place is Kourtney. She’s so scared I doubt she would be able to help me, and I’d need her help to get the gun from him.
While he’s distracted, I glance around the open space lit by two small lamps and search for something I could use as a weapon. There are a few bales of hay, and some discarded pieces of wood propped up against the wall, but besides that, it’s empty. I might be able to use one of the pieces of wood to knock him out if I can get to it, but I’d need to make sure that I hit him hard enough that we’d have a fighting chance at getting his gun and the keys to Kourtney’s car from his pocket.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to Kourtney as I watch him stop searching through his bag and take a seat on the dirt floor across the room from us. Then, with shaking hands, he pulls out a piece of foil from his pocket and dumps the contents into the pipe.
Lighting it, he takes a deep drag, then blows it out, and what smells like ammonia permeates the air around us.
As he gets high, his hate-filled eyes stay locked on mine, but I refuse to cower under his gaze.
“You need help.” He might have said that I cost him everything, but it’s obvious his problems are way bigger than me.
“Do I, bitch?” He stands, tossing the pipe and his lighter toward his backpack.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, what I need is for you to shut the fuck up.” He starts pacing again.
“It’s not too late to stop this.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He points the gun at me.
“There are some things you can’t come back from. You don’t want this to be one of those things.”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screams, pulling back the trigger as he aims off to the side of me. I hear the bullet cut through the air, then feel the wood splinter beside me. Screaming, Kourtney backs away from him and me, and he aims the gun at her. “I said shut the fuck up.”
“Okay.” I move between him and Kourtney and hold up my hands. “Okay,” I whisper.
“I’m tired of bitches like you telling me what to do. All you do is yap your fucking jaws. You never just shut the fuck up.” I press my lips together to keep myself quiet. I don’t need to rile him any more than he already is, especially when he’s high on whatever it was that he was smoking. “Fuck,” he roars, swinging his foot back, kicking through the dirt, sending dust and rocks flying toward Kourtney and me.