Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
The number wasn’t listed, and I had a moment of irrational hope swelling inside of me, thinking maybe it was Syl, that she got free, that I could go scoop her up and never let her out of my sight again.
“Yeah?”
“This is the biker guy, right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Who is this?”
“Shale,” she said, bringing back memories of green hair and good ink.
“Have you seen her? Or him?” I asked, voice taking on a frantic edge.
“No. No, sorry. But I noticed a car out back when I took the garbage out.”
“Yeah, that’s hers. He took her in his truck,” I told her. “Did you see where it went?”
“A truck? No. I was probably looking at my phone. But I was calling because… I have cameras,” she said.
“You have cameras?” I asked, watching as Junior whirled around.
“Let’s go,” he said, already grabbing a laptop and shoving it into a bag.
“We’ll be there in five minutes,” I said.
Then we were running.
Running down the stairs.
Running to his car.
Running every stop sign and red light.
“Oh, it’s you,” Shale said when her gaze landed on Junior as we moved inside.
“Show me,” Junior demanded, nodding toward the laptop she had already brought out.
She turned the laptop toward him, and he took over as she took a step back.
Nervous energy was pulsing off of her, and she turned toward the coffee machine, making something to keep herself busy, then pushing the finished coffee toward Junior.
Apparently, she was familiar with him.
“There,” Junior said, tapping a key, then turning the laptop to show me the truck.
You couldn’t see the man driving, but it was undoubtedly a gray truck pulling out of the back lot of the strip mall.
“Where does he go?”
“Right,” Junior says. “Then left. That’s all the cameras catch. But it’s more than we had before,” he said, grabbing his own laptop, and placing it on the counter.
He was typing with one hand while reaching for the coffee with the other.
“Do you have anything?” I asked a few minutes later.
“There’s not much down this way. No where to take her.”
“He doesn’t need to take her anywhere,” I reminded him. “He’s got a rolling prison with him.”
Both Junior’s and Shale’s faces hardened at that.
I wasn’t holding anyone’s hands or sugarcoating the truth for them.
“All he needs is a field or somewhere he can park where no one is going to hear or see anything.”
Junior was still clicking away at his laptop.
But it was Shale who spoke.
“What about The Manor?” Shale asked.
“What’s The Manor?” I asked as Junior’s head shot up, eyes wide.
“Let’s go,” he said, slamming the lid on his laptop and shoving it at me, so he could jump in and peel off.
“What’s The Manor?” I asked.
“This fucking abandoned pool club from before our parents were kids,” Junior told me as he took a hairpin turn at so high a speed that the car damn near went up on two wheels. “It’s been boarded up for ages, but kids sneak in to drink and smoke and fuck or scare the shit out of their buddies. It’s on a big chunk of property with nothing else close by. But it’s two minutes from here.”
Two minutes felt far too fucking long when my heart was wedged firmly in my throat and my guts were screaming they were so twisted.
She was so small.
And still not at one hundred percent.
“Hey, don’t go there,” Junior demanded, reading my mind. “She’s a fighter. And, more than that, she’s smart.”
That was true. She would have tried to buy herself some time. For me to realize she was missing and come to save her. She would have known I was doing everything in my power to find her.
So maybe she would try to talk about the good old days. Stroke his ego. Keep him from escalating as long as she could.
She was going to be okay.
Damnit, she had to be.
The Manor was just about what I expected from Junior’s description.
It was a long two-story building with that lattice shit on the lower level like you typically saw at old beach clubs.
Once, it was probably a gorgeous place. Now, it was a shithole with a half-caved roof and decades worth of graffiti all over the sides.
As Junior peeled into the lot, I could see the corner of an empty in-ground pool. The local kids probably had a good time using it to skateboard.
But I couldn’t form another single thought about the place as Junior’s car pulled into the sprawling lot and there in the back, half hidden by some old storage shed, I could see the grill of Ben’s rig sticking out.
I was reaching for my gun and the door handle before Junior even slammed on the brake.
Then we were both flying out, running the short distance to the rig.
But the hope dissolved when I saw both doors flung open.