Gritting my teeth, I watch as the dot approaches her building. Dammit.
It takes five more minutes of driving and a minute of searching before I take the newly vacated space made by a piece-of-shit red car with tape holding its bumper up. I figure I’m staying the night here and shouldn’t leave my car in the middle of the lot just because I’m in a rush.
Emery having a few moments alone will either work in my favor or against it. There is nothing I can do about that now.
Several types of music fill the night air, and I glance up at the windows of the dorms, seeing quite a few of them open as parties rage with sickening levels of teen stupidity. Heading down the path to the front entrance, I keep to the shadows as a couple of drunk students stumble out of the building. I start to pull out my security fob but pull up short when I spot something white, partially hidden in the bushes by the side of the staircase.
My pulse pounds in time with my feet as I run toward it. That better not be her bag.
But it is. I know it is when there are still a few yards between me and it.
I don’t even let the stupidwhysandwhatsrun through my head. There is no point.
Her bag is here. Without her. What else is?
Taking a steadying breath, I force myself to calm down. Getting worked up even more than I am right now won’t help my little dove.
The rattle of plastic on concrete snags my attention, and I look around, trying to identify it before it goes quiet again. There, on the landing, is Emery’s phone.
I grab the bag, then take the stairs two at a time and quickly pick up the phone, Oakley’s name on the screen.
The roommate.
But it goes dark instantly, and I see that there are twelve missed calls.
My chest grows heavy, and I don’t hesitate to answer Oakley’s thirteenth call. “It’s Xavier.”
“Emery, thank—Oh, hi, Professor Knight, I mean, Xavier. Sorry. Emery called me a few minutes ago, but then there was a weird noise and the line went dead. Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”
My stomach clenches. “What kind of weird noise? Describe it to me.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“No. Describe the noise.”
Oakley pauses for a moment before she answers. “She kind of sounded like she fell. And then…”
“And then what?” My gut clenches.
“I thought I heard a guy say something, but then the line went dead.”
I glare down at the bag hanging from my fingertips as I take in that information, not liking where this is all pointing to. “How long ago was this?”
“Maybe five—hold on. Let me check. One second… Yeah, exactly eight minutes ago. I’ve been calling ever since, but she hasn’t picked up. I would have gone out looking for her, but I have no idea where your apartment is or if that was even her plan for tonight.”
“What did he say?”
The line goes silent and my gut tightens further.
“Oakley, what did he say?”
Her voice is quiet when she finally responds. “Something about a stupid bitch. And I think I heard him mention a debt that needs to be paid.”
I grunt as a response, scanning the area for more clues. “Come downstairs. I’m at the front door.”
Whatever she says next is cut off when I end the call.
Everything is pointing in one direction. Emery has been taken. Who the fuck by, though?
