Chapter 27
The Message
Reed
I rubbed my eyes as I looked around and realized I'd fallen asleep on the couch. The muted glow of the TV left flashes on the walls of my living room—some late-night talk show I didn't remember turning on. My neck ached from the angle I'd been sleeping in. Looking at the clock, I saw it was late.
I'd come home from work, hours ago, heated up leftover Chinese food I hadn't eaten, and apparently passed out before taking a bite.
The container sat on the coffee table. Nothing like room-temperature, congealed lo mein.
An empty glass of water sat next to it, a ring of condensation at its base—the ice long melted.
This was my life now. A pathetic, half-lived existence. Empty.
My phone buzzed on the cushion beside me. I grabbed it, squinting at the bright screen. A text.
John: You still alive?
If that’s what you want to call it.
Me: Yeah. Fell asleep on the couch.
John: Exciting life you're living.
I didn't respond. The asshole wasn't wrong.
I was about to set the phone down when I noticed the voicemail notification. One new message. Looks like it came in over an hour ago.
I swiped to see the details.
Maliyah.
My heart stopped. Then started again, too fast. I sat up, the blanket I didn't remember getting sliding off my lap, landing on the floor by my feet. My thumb hovered over the play button. I paused. Once I listened, there'd be no going back. Fuck.
Man up. She'd called. After weeks of silence, after I'd sent that text this morning that she hadn't responded to, she'd called. My nerves buzzed through my body. My fingers felt electrified as I reached for the play button.
I pressed it and hit speaker—needing to hear her voice alive, in this room with me.
"Reed, it's me."
Her voice hit me like a physical punch to my gut—familiar and wrong at the same time. Strained. Tired. Scared. Was she nervous to talk to me too? Fuck. Just hearing her voice—
"I know I have no right to call you." You do.
You have every right to call me. "I saw you sent me a text earlier.
But I—" A pause, like she was gathering courage.
"Something's wrong. Bryce is... I know he's been following me.
Watching me. The officers I've spoken to won't do anything because he's smart enough to stay just on the right side of legal, and I can't prove it's him. But I know it's him."
The room seemed to drop twenty degrees. My legs moved before my brain caught up, launching me off the couch so fast my knee banged against the coffee table, sending my glass of water, and the half-empty container of lo mein, crashing to the floor. Shit.
"The kids are safe. They're with Felicity. I just... I needed to tell someone who would understand. I needed to tell you. I'm going home to grab some things, then I'm going back to Felicity's."
A pause. Background noise—a car, traffic sounds. My mind went from freaking out in hearing from my girl—because she was my girl—to focused and clear. I'm a fuck-up and don't deserve her, but the prospect of something happening to her—no. I can't—I won't let anything happen to her.
"I'm sorry. For calling. I shouldn't have. I—Um—bye Reed."
The message ended. I stared at the phone, my hand shaking.
She'd called over an hour ago. In all that time, she'd been dealing with this while I was passed out on my couch like a fucking idiot.
Bryce. That motherfucker. He'd been silent—no contact or issues after the restraining order.
This is my fault. The realization hit me like a fist to the sternum, crushing the air from my lungs and sending ice water through my veins. Every second I'd wasted feeling sorry for myself was a second he'd been out there, watching her, waiting. And now she was alone.
I hit callback before I was even conscious that I’d done it. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Four.
"Hi, this is Maliyah. I can't come to the phone right now—"
I hung up and immediately called again. Same result. Voicemail.
I called a third time—this time it went straight to voicemail. It didn’t even ring—her phone was either off or dead. My chest tightened. She said she was going home, then back to Felicity's. Maybe she was driving. Maybe her phone was on silent. Maybe—
I pulled up Felicity's contact and pressed call. It rang four times before she answered, slightly breathless. "Reed?"
"Is Maliyah with you?"
A pause. "No. She went home to get some things. Didn't she call you?"
"She did. I missed it. When did she leave?"
"It's been maybe an hour and half now. She let me know when she got there, said she was gathering her stuff.
We were texting and said she was going to get ice cream on the way back here.
I didn't expect she'd be back for another ten or so minutes given the time it takes to get to her place, get the ice cream, and get home.
" She was rambling at this point but I could sense the change in Felicity's voice, when fear sharpened her tone as she asked, "Didn’t she call you? Reed, what's going on?"
"She left me a message. Telling me about Bryce following her. He’s stalking her, Felicity." I was already moving; I'd grabbed my keys and coat and made my way to the door. "I'm trying to call her back but she's not answering, and now her phone is going straight to voicemail."
"Oh my God." Felicity's voice went thin. "Reed, if he's there—"
"Already on my way. I'm calling it in." I exited my building, my unmarked car already in sight. "Felicity, I need you to stay there in case she shows up. The kids need you calm."
"But I should come—"
"No. Stay with the kids. If she comes back, call me immediately."
She made a sound that might have been agreement or a sob. "Just find her. Please."
I was in my car, engine starting, phone connected to Bluetooth. "I will."
I hung up and called John while I pulled out onto the street. He answered, "Change your mind about getting out of the house? I’m down for a drink."
"Maliyah might be missing."
"Wait. What?"
I explained what had happened, catching him up.
John responded quickly, saying, "Okay. I’ll call it in and meet you there."
"Okay. I’ll see you there." Disconnecting the call, I tried Maliyah's number again.
Straight to voicemail again. Maybe it died.
Or someone had turned it off for her.
The drive to her apartment should have taken twenty minutes. I made it in twelve, lights going, running two red lights, and pushing my speedometer past eighty on the highway.
The entire time, Maliyah's voice played on a loop in my head.
Something's wrong. Bryce is following me.
I needed to tell someone who would understand. I needed to tell you.
She'd called me. She'd reached out for help. And I'd been fucking sleeping.
Every fear I'd had about my job, about dying and leaving her alone—all of it was bullshit. Because the real danger wasn't me getting shot. It was me being too much of a coward to be there when she actually needed me. I’d gone complacent after the TRO was issued. He’d been silent for so long. How could I be so stupid.
I pulled into her parking lot, scanning for her car. There—her SUV, parked in a spot near the building entrance. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she was still upstairs. My gut said something different, though, given the time that had passed. And I was instantaneously alert.
I jumped out of my car before the engine fully died, my hand automatically going to my weapon as I approached the building, walking by her car first—nothing out of the usual there.
The front door's security lock was broken—the strike plate hanging loose, fresh scratches on the metal. Someone had forced it. FUCK!
I drew my weapon and pushed through the door. Approaching the stairs, I scanned the area. Nothing. I slowly ascended the stairs, making my way to Maliyah's apartment, listening for any other sounds.
The landing was empty. Moving toward Maliyah’s door, I saw her keys were lying on the floor, half the distance from her door to the stairwell.
Her telltale "Best Mom" keychain, with faded gold plating, pointing out. The sounds of a blaring TV came through a neighbor’s apartment. If there’d been a struggle, no one heard it.
My heart launched itself into my throat.
I needed to focus. I wouldn't be any good to Maliyah if I panicked.
My training kicked in and I approached her door.
Entering, I cleared the apartment quickly, moving methodically from room to room.
As I cleared the final room, I heard John's voice call out for me. "Morrison!"
Holstering my weapon, I started toward the front living room. "Here," I called out in response. "I've already cleared the area."
"Saw a set of keys on the ground near the door."
"Yeah—Maliyah's. I motioned to Officer Marquez behind John. "Can you secure the scene and get the evidence documented?" Marquez nodded once, already pulling latex gloves from her pocket as she stepped back into the hall.
I scanned the living room—couch cushions still perfectly aligned, kids’ books and crayons neatly stacked on the coffee table, not a single thing out of place. Even in the kitchen, dishes in the dish rack and the counters were clear. Whatever happened, it hadn't happened in here.
I tried calling Maliyah's phone again. Still straight to voicemail.
John stepped forward, "Reed, you’re too close to this.”
“Get the fu—”
“Listen, man, I know you’re not going to just back off, but you’re going to need to let me take the lead here."
Officer Marquez’s voice broke in, "Detectives, we've got something." I gave John an eye, pushing past him as I followed Officer Marquez. She brought us to the back stairwell which leads to the rear of the building.
A trail of debris was scattered all along the floor of the landing.
A purse, phone face-up with a shattered screen, and a tube of lipstick were front and center.
Scattered around it—receipts, granola bars, tissues, and a dozen other small things.
But my eyes were drawn to what I saw smack dab in the middle of it all.
A gun. Maliyah’s gun. So she was unarmed now.
The punch to my gut was unreal. Leaving Marquez to preserve the scene, John and I returned to Maliyah's apartment. We needed to plan and act now. I couldn’t stand around hoping for a solution.
John’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Reed, man. Let me take over. We get this guy, you don’t want him trying to get off on a technicality."
I looked at him. Seeing the genuine concern on his face, I knew I needed to trust him. I did trust him. My partner for years, friend for longer than I could remember.
"Yeah man, alright. I’ll step back while you lead." Rushing on, I said, "but I’m not stepping away."
"I wouldn’t expect it of you. At least this way, I can keep an eye on your ass."
"I’m calling her sister now."
"Alright, let’s step in the other room and we can call her together."
We moved over to the kitchen. I tapped call on Felicity’s contact card, and put it on speaker.
"Reed. Did you find her? Is she still there? What's happening?" Felicity was understandably panicked.
"She's not here, Felicity. Her keys and her car are both still here, though. Is Caden with you?"
"Yes. Why?"
"You're going to need him."
"I’m here Reed."
"Guys, John’s here with me."
"Hi Felicity, Caden." They knew John—barbecues, double dates, back when my life made sense. John’s face was strained with the news he was about to deliver.
Felicity responded, "John—what’s going on here, guys? Where’s my sister?"
“Felicity, there was a struggle outside Maliyah’s apartment. We don’t have a lot to go on right now, but we are placing an APB out for Bryce Callahan. We have to assume at this point that she's missing and was likely abducted."
Felicity's voice and cry out was guttural. I heard Caden’s voice in the background, low and trying to steady her, and that was it — that was the sound of a family falling apart.
I dropped my head. Stopped breathing. Felt the pain constricting my heart. Her brokenness was my own. Maliyah had been calling me and I'd been fucking sleeping.
Felicity’s sobs were the only sound John and I could hear.
But I didn't get the luxury of breaking down.
This was my world. This was where I make a difference.
And I would burn his world to the ground to find my woman.
There was no place on this earth that motherfucker could hide that I wouldn't find him.
And once I had her back. Once I had all of them back. I'd never let them go again. No matter the consequence. No matter the struggles. They were mine, and I was theirs. For better or fucking worse.
Bryce Callahan better get ready because he made a big fucking mistake coming for Maliyah. And I was all too happy to help him see that.