His eyes go blank, but he holds them out, palms down. I lean closer to look at them. “There. Are ya happy?” he asks.
If Rory fought back, I’d see a clue. A bruise. A bite mark. Something. “Show me the other side.” After a minute, he relents. I grab his wrists, but there’s nothing.Come on, Rory. Leave me a clue, baby. Help me here.
I shove his security jacket up his arms. He’s wearing a short-sleeved polo underneath.
Just above his wrist are scratch marks. “Where the hell is she?” I shout, desperate for answers.
Frank leans forward to study the scratches. “How did you get these, Edmond?”
He pauses. “Moving your gear last night.”
I grab him by his collar. “Those cuts are fresh.” I point to my manager. “Call the cops.”
The longer Rory’s missing, the worse my chance of finding her is. Everyone knows that. I run outside because she can’t be far. I shout her name.
Tornado sirens go off in the distance, and I retrace my steps to the restaurant, this time staying in the parking lot instead of the sidewalk in front of the strip mall. She has to be here somewhere.Please be okay, baby. Please.
If I find her, I’m never gonna let this woman go. I’m gonna love her with my whole heart and soul until the day I die.
I pray to God she’s safe. Then I beg. I’ll give everything if she’s okay.
Each minute feels like an eternity as I scan under cars and trucks and behind dumpsters. When I make it back to the bus, I look underneath it.
Damn it. Where are you?
Then I head to the rear of the bus. To the extra storage locker we’re towing. “Rory!”
The sirens blare. Rain pours down. Lightning strikes a tree at the edge of the lot. The ground rumbles.
A tornado is gonna have to sweep me away to get me to stop looking for Aurora.
That’s when my eyes snag on something sticking out from the storage locker. A piece of fabric.
Her shirt.
I race back to the bus and shout, “Frank! Get over here!”
He follows me to the trailer, and when he sees what I’m pointing out, he gets out his keys. Fumbles them. Drops them.
Come on. “Rory!” Then I hear it. A knocking. Coming from the locker. “Baby, is that you?”
Her voice is like an echo in a dream. “Jace!”
“I’m here!”
“Help me.”
Frank tries key after key.
Finally, it opens. There she is, nestled against our amps.
I fall to my knees and grab her as she wraps her arms around me. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What did he do to you?” Because I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.
“I’m okay. I think he…” She trails off, her eyelids heavy.
“Come on, baby. Talk to me.”
Closing her eyes, she slumps against me. “Hit my head.”