Page 102 of Left In The Dark

“Are you safe?” she asks, typing away at her keyboard.

“Yeah, but I don’t know for how long. He’s crazy. He hurt that guy down there and might hurt me too.”

“Who hurt who?” she presses

“Look, I can’t talk anymore. Please just get here as soon as you can.”

“Can you tell me where here is?”

“Can’t you trace the call? There’s no time. I have to go now. He’s got a gun.”

“Sir, wait. Please try to stay on the line with me. Can you get out of the house and to a safe place?”

“There’s a guy in the basement. The guy all over the news. He’s been missing. Please hurry. I can’t do this anymore.”

I hang up the phone before she can respond again, and I wipe it with a blanket lying on the couch behind me, tossing it onto the coffee table before heading to the basement. It’s as bad as I pictured it being. It’s dark and cold, reeking of mildew. Random tools are scattered on the floor, and I use a bravado knife to cut holes in my pants, ripping harder at the seams to make it look more natural. I leave gashes on my arms next, smearing the blood on my legs and face.

My skin stings and I’m getting lightheaded. They’re coming soon. I have to make it more believable before they do. I can’t pass out now. As soon as my eyes land on some rope, I use it to tie my ankles and then create a slipknot with another piece on the ground and slide it up my wrists, When I feel it’s tight enough, I use my fingers to tighten the ends as best I can. I lie on my side, closing my eyes, and I play the last scene of Water For Elephants Logan read to me in my mind as I wait.

Thirty-Six

Logan

My phone vibrates, waking me up, and when I reach for it, I knock it to the ground. It goes quiet before going off again, and I swing the blankets off me, looking beside me when Blake isn’t trying to keep me from leaving the bed. My chest grows heavy when I find his spot is cold. He’s been gone long enough for his warmth to leave with him. Did it finally happen? Did he realize he didn’t really want to be here? Was he unable to forgive me like I’ve forgiven him?

I clutch my chest, leaning forward, and it feels like my walls are closing in on me when his phone is no longer on the charger. The drawers are open and clothes are thrown out. My breaths are rought against my throat and nearly choking me when I bend down to get my phone. Someone’s calling again and the name on the screen isn’t who I wanted it to be. It’s work. How am I supposed to go in when Blake might be on his way there now to turn me in?

Did I not tell him I wanted him enough? I should have said it more after pulling him into my arms after he got too tired for me to keep reading. I answer the call, my fingers unsteady around my phone as my voice comes out hoarse. “What’s up, Hector?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes, and I’m beginning to think it’s one of your favorite pastimes.”

“Maybe. If I can’t sleep, then neither can you. It’s part of the friend contract.”

“Since fucking when?”

“Since now. Listen,” he says, his voice cracking.

“I’m listening.” I pull up my pants and slide my work shirt over one arm.

“We’re going to need backup in your neck of the woods. I figured you’d get there quickly since you’re only five minutes or so away.”

“What’s the situation looking like?”

“A reported kidnapping.”

My eyes widen. “Do you know anything more than that?”

“Yeah. They think it might be Blake Mitchell.”

My eyes practically threaten to fall out of my head as my stomach knots. “What’s the address?”

His words echo around me after he tells me the street and house number. It’s where my dad’s staying. It can’t be Blake in that basement. It can’t be, because I have him here with me in my house. The hair rises on the back of my neck. Or I did.

What did you do, piglet? My eyes stop circling the room when they land on the cell phone I got him.

Maybe he did nothing and they’re wrong. I haven’t checked the whole house yet. He could still be here, fixing himself a snack in the kitchen or using the bathroom.