Page 26 of Out to Find Freedom

She wasn’t the only thing putting me in a goddamn foul mood. Shanti had been a dead end. All of the other night-time employees had been a dead end too. Though, they all said the same thing: ask the manager when he got back.

I swore to Christ, if this guy didn’t have anything for me, there’d be hell. I wanted answers to give the mother. I wanted the people responsible for destroying her daughter’s life to pay.

I wanted fucking blood.

What I didn’t want was to be told to have the afternoon off. But the others at work were caught up on their own cases, and since I was at a standstill until fuckhead got back, Violet ordered us to get some much-needed rest. The woman didn’t leave the office until she knew I was out the door because she wasn’t dumb; I would have stayed and tried to find another clue to my case.

On the way home, my thoughts returned to Emmie. Then I was pissed all over again, as even my late-night singing didn’t have her reaching out either.

Slamming through my back door, I stood on my deck in the afternoon sun. I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes and glared out at the houses around me.

Emmie was in one of those. She had to have been to have heard my music.

“Emmie,” I called. Nothing. Fuck, she was probably at work, but I doubted it because I still thought that was a lie.

Dragging my phone out of my back pocket, I called out again, my tone rougher from annoyance, “Emmie.” Out the corner of my eye, I thought I saw movement down near the ground. But when I looked, there was nothing but a window to the neighbour’s basement. I didn’t know the people. I had their names when I looked into the folks around the area, but that was it. “Emmie,” I barked louder.

Nothing.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Emmie, answer your damn phone,” I clipped, louder still.

My phone beeped. I opened it.

Emmie:Shut up.

There was a follow-up beep.

Emmie:Please, shut up. Please.

Worry twisted my gut. She was in trouble.

Ryan:Are you okay?

“Hey, man” was called. I turned to the side, seeing a guy in his late twenties maybe. He looked like he’d been on a bender all night and could use a shower.

“Hey,” I replied.

His eyes twitched. “Heard you calling someone. All good?” He sniffed, ran a hand over his face, and I caught his quick look down at the window by his feet.

“Yeah, ah…”

“Lenny,” he supplied.

Lenny Kavas and Gloria Summers. I recalled their names from the information I got. Obviously not married, but together or just roommates.

“Right, Lenny.” I waved my phone in my hand. “Was tryin’ to get my woman to answer her phone. Left some messages.”

He huffed. “Woman troubles. Never ends, right, brother?”

I nearly screwed my face up at him. He didn’t have the fucking right to call me brother. First impression of the guy already had me on edge. There was something about him I didn’t like. Besides, he looked like a druggie and didn’t really introduce himself as my neighbour, just wanted to see what I was doing yelling out.

“That’s right.”

“What’s her name?”

Why in the fuck would he want to know that?

“Emily,” I said. “Cute name, but she can be a stubborn pain in my arse.”

---