Page 50 of Protecting Christina

“That’s good,” I muttered as we continued to watch.

Donna didn’t run down the driveway, or to the neighbor’s house, as I expected. Instead, she raced toward the trash bins out front.

“Fuck me. That’s it.” Will said softly, but his words and the way he had said them made my body clench.

“What’s happening?” I asked, but then I remembered.

The phone.

“Yes!” I whispered, and Will leaned down to stare closer at the screen. He squeezed my shoulder when Donna pulled out a phone from the trash.

“Please, God. Make it work,” he whispered.

Donna shoved the phone inside the pocket of her zippered sweater and ran back toward the house. When she reached the porch, she tiptoed to the front door.

Through the earpiece, the door squeaked, and both Will and I held our breaths. There was no shouting or any other sound.

We waited for Donna to call one of us. “Does she have your number?”

“It’s the only number in the contact list.”

I nodded, pleased with his thinking.

But as time went on and no call came in, our excitement turned to fear. What if Simon had discovered her when she returned to her room? What if he was hurting her right now?

I pulled out the earpiece and stood up. Pacing the room, I rubbed the back of my neck. “I should go there and check on her.”

“Let’s just wait. Give her a few more minutes. She may just be waiting until the coast is clear. If we storm in there now, it might blow everything.”

I blew out a frustrated breath. “How do you do it? Be patient?”

“When lives depend on it, you have no choice.”

I stopped pacing and looked at him. “Have you ever lost someone?”

He looked away. “Yes.”

“Was it because you stormed in there?”

“No. It was because I was too scared to tell anyone until it was too late.”

Confused by his statement, I tried to piece it together in my brain.

He pushed away from the monitor. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Then, he grabbed my hand, and we were racing toward the door when his cell phone rang. We both stopped for a second, hope rising in my heart and his eyes.

Pulling out the phone from his back pocket, he checked the number before answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is Donna. Are you the one who left the phone inside the box?”

His chiseled features softened slightly. “Yes,” he exhaled.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice shaky. I’d never heard my defiant sister sound like that. The last time I’d spoken to her, she told me that I’d have to take care of myself, just like we all did now.

“I want to help you. Are you in trouble?”

---