Page 2 of Wanted

“No, why?” I don’t like to start the day by stressing out about all the madness going on around the world.

“Why haven’t you turned on the TV?” she asks as she looks around again. “Have you talked to Lionel today? When was the last time you spoke to your husband?”

I raise my brows… This is weird, my mother has never been interested in my relationship with Lionel.

“We spoke yesterday afternoon.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Anxiety claws at my gut. What is this about?

“In Dallas.”

She looks at me, raising her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

I’m usually calm, but something in her tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Are you sure he’s in Dallas?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Mom, tell me what’s wrong.” A bead of sweat drips down my forehead.

“The television, you have to turn on the television.”

I take her by the wrist and park her in front of the giant screen that Lionel bought a few weeks ago.

“The news channel,” she says in a rush.

The headline appears on the screen. I gasp, the floor beneath my feet shaking. I can’t breathe, can’t think.

No!

‘Lionel Kral has been attacked and is clinging to life.’

It can’t be him. Not Lionel. I only saw him yesterday. My entire world is spinning, I’m about to faint.

This is impossible. They’re not talking about my husband.

“I don’t believe it,” I whisper as I drop onto the couch, my legs giving way beneath me. “It can’t be. What was Lionel doing in Los Angeles?”

Mom sits next to me, holding my hand. “Try to call him, maybe it’s someone with the same name, a namesake. Didn’t you say your Lionel is in Texas this week?”

I dash to the kitchen to grab my phone. As my screen comes to life, I notice that I’ve had several missed calls; seven from my mother and two more from my friend Alison.

I head back toward the living room, my hands are shaking so much that I drop the damn thing twice before I manage to dial Lionel’s number, and while I wait for him to answer—I keep watching the news. I can’t look away, I need more information.

Answer, Lionel, answer and tell me this is all a lie.

The reporter’s talking. Renowned architect… Large West Coast construction company… Death’s door.

My heart hammers against my rib cage, thudding loudly in my ears.

Lionel doesn’t answer. Is he in a meeting?

It can’t be him, it can’t be.

My husband is in Dallas. My husband is an employee.

My husband isn’t the millionaire they’re talking about on the news.

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