Nick nodded as he jogged with Mike to the door.
If something ever happened to Maggie, Mike would never forgive himself. He had to find her.
Before it was too late.
Scene77
Maggie
I sighed in relief as I closed the door behind me. I’d missed my old apartment. The smell. The minimal furniture. The openness.
Without turning on the lights, I locked the door, walked to the bed and laid my backpack on the floor next to it, the idea of writing a second letter addressed to Mike appealing.
Don’t waste any more time. Just get it over with.
Not repeating the same mistake I made ten years ago, I’d bought a Glock. It was terribly easy to buy one online. No hassle. No waiting time.
I got the paper bag encasing it out of the backpack and placed it in my lap as I sat on the bed. Glancing one last time at the stars through the bay window, I thought about Mike. Our best moments together flashed in my mind: the look in his eyes when he knew I loved him, our first kiss, our first night and the day after, the beautiful love-making session in front of the mirror, the proposal.
My gaze dipped to the ring. I’d forgotten it was there.
He should have it back.
I should’ve written that somewhere, like when he gave me twenty-five percent of the company after the engagement, and I insisted on having a clause that stated he’d get it back upon my demise. I couldn’t let Andrea inherit it. No fucking way.
I took off the ring, set it on the nightstand and found a piece of paper there. Then I scribbled a note and slipped it under the ring.
Neither the sound of the paper bag crumbling as I brought out the Glock nor the weight of the cold metal in my hand annoyed me. If I’d felt anything at the moment, it’d have been liberation.
I walked to the full-length mirror. The silver light from the bay window shone on my reflection, allowing me to watch myself. I inhaled, listening to the sound of the air entering my nose, feeling it in my lungs, and then I exhaled.
Then I raised the gun to my head, closing my eyes for the last time. “I’m sorry.”
Scene78
Mike
Mike swore at the traffic lights as he called his manager again, his tear-stained face pale in the rear mirror.
“I’m checking with all the hospitals and police stations. I’ve found nothing so far, which is good, right?” James replied quickly.
Mike pressed a hand to his mouth. “Yes, I guess. Just please keep me in the loop.”
“Sure. We’ll find her, Mike. Don’t worry,” he assured him.
The lights turned green, and he slammed the gas pedal. As Maggie’s apartment building appeared ahead, he ducked and raised his gaze to a dark bay window. Then he accelerated to the club.
His eyes darted around the dimmed tables at the club, sweeping the area for her face. There were only four customers inside and two bartenders behind the counter; one was staring at him.
Mike stalked toward him, recognizing the face as he approached the counter. “You’re Tony, right? Have you seen Maggie?”
The bartender glared at him. “What did you do to her?”
Mike clasped his hands and put them in front of his face, closing his eyes. “So you saw her? When did she leave?”
“About thirty minutes ago.”
Mike’s breaths became short and fast. “Please. Just please tell me she told you where she went.”
