Levi #2
I tell him everything, being careful not to leave anything out.
I tell him about the threatening messages she was getting when she first got to town, and the break-in at her motel room.
I tell him how the messages and calls stopped, and how we both thought that we could let our guards down, that the threat had passed.
I tell him about how she saw him driving the other day, and how worried she was when she came home.
I know I’m repeating a lot of the information, things he already knows, but I can’t afford to leave anything out.
Even the smallest detail could be the difference between getting her back and losing her forever.
“I don’t know where the fuck he could have taken her,” I say in an agonized, defeated sigh.
Justin looks around the parking lot—empty, save for our two trucks sitting side by side.
“Her car isn’t here, and neither is his,” he observes.
“There’s no way that psycho would have let her drive by herself.
You know her better than I do, but even I know she would have high-tailed it out of here the first chance she got.
Which means they must have left together in the same car.
And if he had driven here, his car would still be here. ”
“So he must have taken her somewhere within walking distance from the bar,” I conclude, and Justin nods.
“Yeah, unless he parked his car somewhere else and walked over from there.”
I’m already shaking my head. “From what Oakley’s told me, I don’t think he’s that smart.”
“I still wouldn’t rule out the possibility.”
I glance frantically up and down the dimly lit street.
No cars are parked on the street, and the only business, besides the motel, that has an actual parking lot is Joe’s, which we already know is empty.
My eyes catch on the flickering motel sign, and I’m reminded of the night I found Oakley walking by herself back to the motel.
I point it out and am already rounding the front of my truck when Justin catches up with my train of thought.
“Let’s walk,” he calls to me, and I relent.
I’m so wrought with worry that I know I’m in no state to drive. I clap him on the shoulder as I pass him, and we make our way towards the motel.
My eyes scan the dim parking lot and the street beyond, trying to make out anything that seems out of place.
It’s dark out and, with limited light from the moon, the world around us is cast in shadows, except for the reflective neon lights of the bar.
I clench my jaw as the front door of the motel comes into view.
We storm into the motel lobby, the chime on the door clattering and scaring the kid behind the counter half to death, if his pale, pimple-marked face and jolt of surprise is any indication.
Any other time, I might feel bad for startling the shit out of the poor teenager who’s only trying to make a little money before the start of the school year, but right now, I couldn’t give two shits about it.
“How many rooms do you have rented out tonight?” I demand.
Adam splutters, clearly shocked at the outrage that’s no doubt written all over my face.
“I-I can’t give out that information,” he stammers.
“The fuck you can’t—” I start, fury buzzing through my limbs and making my hands shake at my side, but Justin cuts me off with the wave of a hundred dollar bill over the counter.
“Just tell us how many rooms are rented, bud.”
Adam glances nervously at me like he thinks I’m about to jump over the counter and throttle him if he doesn’t tell us what we want to hear, but he takes the hundred, tentatively, with trembling fingers.
“Just one, tonight. Room four. Take a right out of the lobby, and it’s the fourth—”
“We’ll manage,” I interrupt, already yanking the door open and stalking towards the room, Justin following close behind me.
We reach the door in a few short strides, the yellow light bleeding through the ratty curtains and spilling onto the cracked sidewalk in distorted shadows.
Voices sound from behind the thin door, one deep and masculine and the other one higher in pitch.
Sounds of a scuffle reach us, punctuated by a low, masculine groan.
It takes everything in me not to tear the door from its hinges, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.
Justin leans past me and bangs on the door loudly.
“Sheriff’s department! Open up!”
I stare in shock at my friend for a moment, who only shoots me a knowing grin. Smart bastard.
The voices muffle, and someone moves around inside the room before the door is yanked open. All the air in my lungs leaves my body at the sight of the man in front of me, pulling a thread-bare robe closed around his scrawny body.
“What the fuck do you want? You’re not the police,” he spits, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His torso is flushed where it peeks out from the top of his robe, and it’s crystal clear what we interrupted here.
“Who do you have in the room with you?” I demand, cutting right to the chase.
“None of your goddamn—”
I shove past him, ignoring his enraged shouts of protest, and my eyes fall to the woman sitting up against the headboard, clutching the sheets to her naked body. Brown hair fans down her shoulders, and I’m turning away and stalking back out the door before she can get a word out.
It’s not her.
“Hey, listen here you asshole—” the man starts, but I interrupt him again.
“Sorry for intruding. Enjoy your night.” Without another word, I jog towards Joe’s parking lot where we left my truck. Justin is hot on my heels while the man shouts a colorful array of expletives at our backs, then slams the door loud enough to make the rickety single-pane windows rattle.
Where the fuck is she?!
Justin climbs into the truck and slams the door behind him before turning to face me.
“Where else could they be?” he asks, and something niggles at the back of my mind.
Maybe I’ve finally calmed down enough to remember, or maybe it was something about the motel room that jogs my memory, but I think back to when Oakley was staying here. Or namely, why she was staying here.
I missed my appointment with the building manager of the apartment I was supposed to be touring today.
“The apartments across from the bar.” I whisper the words into the quiet of the cab, and a second later, the engine roars to life and we’re peeling out of the gravel lot.
Of course, that’s where they are. Oakley had mentioned something about the apartment already being rented out, and that’s why she was staying at the motel.
Now, I just have to pray I’m not too late.
Hang on, baby. I’m coming.