Page 52 of Allison

What the hell am I going to do?Tears fill her eyes. She can’t give up her task of helping those missing kids, but is she willing to die to help them? Last week the answer would have been a resounding yes, but Russell’s handsome face flashes before her. Loss and regret washes over her.Will she ever see him again?

34

WORM

Hours later, they are no closer to finding Allison than they were the moment they’d gotten the call from Wallace. Allison’s phone continues going straight to voicemail, and any texts aren’t showing as being delivered.

Worm’s concern is growing by the second. He can’t sit still. If he allows himself to focus on his worry, he’ll be tearing the place apart. As it stands, he’s been pacing around Hawk and Charlotte’s dining room since the moment they arrived, unable to contain his anxiety.

“Would you sit your ass down?” Straw demands, grumpily. “You’re driving us all crazy with your pacing. What’s gotten into you?”

Worm glares at Straw, but doesn’t answer, nor does he pause his pacing. As he is making another pass around the room, Tank steps in front of him.

“Talk.” A single word, but full of command. Worm eyes his large friend. Can he out maneuver Tank or should he just confess his feelings for Allison? “Worm, you can trust us, you know that. So spill. What’s gotten you so worked up over Allison’s disappearance? Does it remind you too much of your sisters?”

Worm resigns himself to disclosing his relationship…or whatever you’d call what they shared over the time they’d been together, with the group that is gathered in Hawk’s dining room. “No, it’s not just about my sisters…Allison and I…”

“Oh. My. God!” Charlotte exclaims, running over to him. “You slept with her?” Worm’s face heats. It’s ridiculous. He’s a grown-ass man. He has nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, but hearing it out loud affects him.

“Yes,” he answers simply. “It was just the weekend, Charlotte. Don’t be marrying us off just yet.” He tries to joke, but the words fall flat, burning like acid in his mouth. He begins to pace again.

“She’s going to be okay, Russel,” Charlotte replies softly, trailing along behind him. “I just know we will find her.” He nods, but doesn’t find comfort in her words.

“Her phone is off,” Hack informs the room. “I was able to follow the cell phone tower connections to Grand Ave, but then it stopped. I’ve got a program running, looking for CCTV footage in the area. Maybe that will give us more to go on.”

“Please, take a seat, just for a little while?” Lisa urges, stepping in front of him. Worm is still anxious, but he finally relents and takes a seat at the table. He feels badly about making everyone crazy with his pacing, but it’s the only thing keeping him reasonably calm.

Taking out his phone again, even though it’s futile, he can’t keep from checking to see if she has texted him. He’s left her multiple messages over the last few hours. Realistically, he knows Allison isn’t going to respond to his text or give him a return call. She would if she could, but something, or most likely someone, is keeping her from responding.

Lisa places food and drink in front of him. A glass of lemonade and a thick sandwich piled high with ham, tomato, lettuce, onion, and cheese. A large serving of French fries and cole slaw fill out the plate. He drinks about half of the lemonade, because he hasn’t eaten or drank anything since they’d stopped for gas on the way back.

He isn’t hungry, but he needs to fuel his body. He picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. It’s like sawdust in his mouth, but he forces himself to chew and swallow the bite. Unable to stomach another bite, he holds the sandwich, staring at it as if it can give him the answers to where Allison is located.

A minute later, he drops the food in disgust. He is angry. Angry with himself that he can’t keep his emotions in check. Angry they haven’t found Allison or have any idea what has happened to her. Angry there isn’t a damn thing he can do about any of it. He jumps up from his seat to pace again when Hack gets another phone call.

“Hey, I’m trying to find street level CCTV footage—” Hack breaks off abruptly, listening intently to the caller. “Oh, okay, so everything is fine?” He listens again. Worm is frowning.What the hell is going on now?His phone pings with an incoming text.

Allison:I’m fine. I had things to do. No need to keep blowing up my phone.

Worm:We’ve all been worried. Where have you been?

Allison:Like I said, I had things to do.

Worm:I thought we shared something last night?

Allison:It was just a fling. Stop being so possessive. I’ll text you in a few days.

Shock, hurt, and anger war for purchase in his head. He can’t believe she’s reacting this way. Sure, they’ve bantered back and forth, but she’s never been rude and indifferent. Something is off with these texts. Allison’s been MIA for hours. She wouldn’t dismiss his concern like that. Then Hack’s conversation catches his attention again.

“Emma, I’m going to put you on speaker phone.” Hack touches his phone’s screen before placing it on the table in front of him. “Please say all that again so everyone else can hear it.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m just freaking out for nothing, but I got a text from Allison,” Emma starts. “It said, ‘I’m sorry you were worried. I’ve been busy unpacking and didn’t realize you’d been texting and calling. I’m fine, but I’m really tired after the weekend. I’ll check in with you in a couple of days after some sleep.’ I want to be relieved, but I just have the feeling, Allison didn’t send that text.”

“Okay,” Hack says, drawing the word out. “I’m not disputing your gut feeling, but what makes you think she didn’t send it?” It’s a valid question. One Worm would like to hear her response to, because even though he hasn’t known Allison all that long, he’d had the same feeling.

“Well, for starters, Allison has never been known to unpack the minute she gets home,” Emma answers. “She is known for packing early for a trip, but once it’s over and she’s back home, she can live out of her suitcase for days. She always has a story she’s working on, chasing down leads, interviewing witnesses, or writing and editing her drafts. There’s no way she’s going to take a couple of days to recover from her trip. And another thing, she sent it all in one long text. She rarely sends a long text. It’s usually one sentence at a time. Normally, I find it annoying, especially when she’s excited about something and sends me ten texts in a row while I’m at work, but today I’d give anything to have her send me one sentence texts.”

“Hey, Emma, it’s Worm,” he interjects. “I just got some texts from Allison, too, and I agree. Something isn’t right with what and how she sent them.”

---