Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
The driver asks me what I’m waiting for, and I say nothing. But once inside the van, I silently plead to anyone who might be listening.
Please... Please bring my best friend home...
Chapter Seven
Holly
I don’t make it back to the motel until close to five in the morning, when the horizon is just beginning to blush. After a quick shower, I try to sleep, but I’m too restless to even doze. Every sound jolts me awake, thinking it might be Kenzie knocking on the door.
Eventually I give up on sleep altogether, opting instead to stare blankly at the TV.
The room phone rings. I jump to answer it.
“Kenzie?” I blurt.
“It’s Doreen.” My boss’s low-register drawl crackles through the receiver. My heart sinks. “Magdalena quit. I’m gonna need you to cover her shift today.”
I rub my tired eyes. I want to tell her I’m busy today, but when Doreen asks me to take extra shifts, we both know her requests aren’t really requests. They’re orders. I’m not officially on the payroll, so I can be cut loose at any time for any reason, or no reason at all.
“Give me ten minutes,” I tell her. I realize after I hang up that I didn’t feel the usual twinge of anxiety I experience whenever my boss calls.
Bone-deep exhaustion’s one hell of a drug...
I get dressed quickly, throw on some mascara, and make my way to the housekeeping department, which is a fancy way of saying the broom closet where Doreen keeps all the noxious chemicals.
As I load up my cart, I decide it’s probably better to stay busy while I wait for Kenzie to come home. A restless mind can wander to some very disturbing places. I tell myself, if the guy liked her enough to let her stay over, he probably likes her enough to feed her breakfast, too.
Halfway through my shift, I realize, in my rush to get ready, I forgot to slip my phone into my pocket. Doreen forbids us to keep our phones on us while we work, but I want to have mine in case Kenzie calls. I leave my cart by the room I’m cleaning and jog back toward the stairwell leading up to the second-floor units. On the way, a familiar voice grabs me by the throat, sending a chill down my spine.
“Have you seen her today?” The driver from last night—the bald one who took Kenzie away from the party—is standing just outside the main office talking to my boss.
I hang back in the shadows by the concrete steps. Doreen cocks her hip, her perpetually sour expression looking even more so as she takes a drag from her cigarette.
“Nope,” she says. “Haven’t seen her.”
Relief washes over me, followed by a twinge of confusion. If he’s here, then that means he must’ve brought Kenzie back. So, who is he asking Doreen about?
The driver says something I can’t quite hear. Doreen laughs cheerlessly. He reaches into his pocket, and I see the flash of metal at his hip.
He has a gun.
My whole body tenses. He hands Doreen a small white card, which she studies briefly and then pockets. As he turns to slip back into his SUV—the same one he and Kenzie drove off in— I note the purple circles under his eyes, and the cut on the bridge of his nose.
A familiar feeling sinks to the bottom of my stomach like a dropped stone. It’s the same sense of dread I felt last night when Kenzie promised she’d be back.
I wait for him to drive off, and for Doreen to retreat into the office, then scurry upstairs to our room. Pulling the key from my pocket, I reach for the door handle and find it’s already open.
In fact, the lock is broken.
My heart pounds.
“Kenzie,” I whisper. “Are you in here?”
Slowly, I ease through the door into the room. I’m met with silence and disarray.
The room has been trashed. Sheets and pillows in heaps on the floor, drawers yanked open, bags rummaged through. I check the bathroom, hoping to find Kenzie hiding in the tub, but it’s empty. She’s not here.
And if she’s not here, then where is she?
My head spins like a merry-go-round on fast forward. If the creepy driver is looking for her, that means she must still be out there, alone.
But what if he isn’t looking for her? What if he’s looking for me?
Doreen is a lot of things. A hard ass, an extortionist, and a downright bitch. But I don’t doubt that she’s dealt with her share of bad men. Maybe he asked about me and, getting a bad vibe, she lied to him.
Panic wraps around my middle like a corset. If that man’s looking for me, then he must’ve done something awful to McKenzie, and he’s tracking me down to tie up loose ends.
I sit on the edge of the exposed box spring and hug my leg to my chest.