Page 66 of Givin' Me Fitz!
Dallas reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notebook like I had in the pocket of mine. Some habits never died.
My phone lit up at four in the morning the following Wednesday. I’d spoken to Sawyer a couple of times over the weekend, but he was busy with his parents coming to town. He’d been cleaning and fixing things at his home in anticipation of their arrival, so I didn’t crowd him. We were supposed to be going to dinner tonight, but I had a feeling our plans wouldn’t happen.
I picked up my phone to see a number I didn’t recognize. “Morgan.”
“Fitz, it’s Spider Remmick, Bones’ friend. We met at The Roundup not long ago.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Yeah, uh, Spider. How’s it going?” What else could I say?
“I don’t suppose Sawyer’s there, is he? I’ve been calling him for a few hours, and he isn’t answering. I came over to the clubhouse to see if he was home, and the house is empty. The guys who live at the clubhouse said they haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon when he was taking TJ and Mr. Middleton to the store. His truck isn’t here, either. I asked Mouse to track it, but he hasn’t found anything yet.”
Even though I didn’t know the man on the other end of the line, I could hear the worry in his voice. It nearly matched my own.
“We were supposed to have dinner over the weekend, but something came up and he had to cancel. I spoke to him for a bit on Monday, and he didn’t mention that he was going anywhere. Do you know where they were going shopping?”
I hopped out of bed and flipped on the bedside lamp, grabbing my jeans from the chair where I liked to read and pulling them on. I opened my dresser drawers and pulled out a sweatshirt and a pair of socks before rushing into the kitchen.
Spider cleared his throat. “He mentioned going to Carberry Square and Walmart to pick up some stuff for when his parents get into town tonight. I’ll ride over there and see if his truck’s there. Maybe it broke down and they stayed at the Silver Bullett Casino and Hotel that’s not far away to deal with the truck in the morning. I bet that’s it. I’m sorry I woke you up. I’m sure everything’s fine. My momma tells me I’m a worrier.”
“Did you go into his house? Is anything out of place?” My instincts told me something was definitely wrong.
“No, we don’t have a key, and we were pretty sure he’d be pissed if we broke in. We’ve looked in through the windows, and there’s definitely nobody inside,” Spider said.
“I’m going to that shopping plaza to look for his truck. You go to Walmart and call me.” I grabbed my jacket and the keys to my truck off the keyholder and headed out the back door to the garage.
I looked up the directions on my phone and set the GPS to tell me where to go. My heart was pounding in my chest. If anything happened to Sawyer, I was going to lose my mind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sawyer
“Wake up! Please, wake up. Oh—you’re not TJ. Please wake up.”
The whispering was fine, but the poking and touching my face I could have done without. My head was pounding, and when I opened my eyes, it was pitch-black—as in I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. It was fucking scary.
I knocked on whatever I was lying on, and it echoed like metal. I reached behind me and sat up, grabbing the hand that continued to push against my face before I was poked in the eye.
“Mr. Middleton, it’s Sawyer. Are you okay? There’s no light in here, wherever we are. TJ?” I moved his hand to my shoulder and helped him sit next to me. I had no idea where we were or what had happened.
“TJ isn’t here. Someone took him.”
Mr. Middleton knocked on something, and it echoed. It was tall enough so I could sit up, and as I felt around the bottom under me. It was smooth. There was a fourth surface above my head, and there was about two feet of space over my head before I touched it. I couldn’t stand up but I could kneel. It wasn’t a car trunk.
I bounced to see if it moved—like maybe it was a panel truck or something that had tires, but it didn’t shift. “Let’s stay calm, Mr. Middleton. I got hit on the head with something and it knocked me out. What happened to you and TJ?”
I crawled along the floor of the container, feeling against the walls. I held out my arms and was able to touch both sides of the thing, and my arm span was eighty-one inches, so the thing was about six feet wide.
When I got to the front—or maybe it was the back—the wall was solid with no way in or out. No light leaked in from any small spots like hinges or doors. Were we in a solid box? What about air? How was air getting in?
“I’m standing up now. There has to be a way out, right? I’ll see if I can feel anything.” He shuffled his feet as he walked from the end where I was kneeling to the other end, gently knocking on the walls and ceiling as he went.
“Are you having to bend your neck? I’m trying to figure out how big the box is.”
“Yes. The top of my back is brushing against the ceiling. Do you hear anything?” Mr. Middleton stopped, and I concentrated to see if I could hear anything outside, but there was nothing.
“I don’t hear anything, Mr. Middleton.” I stood, leaning forward so I didn’t bang my head. I moved to the middle—or what I guessed was the middle—and I pushed with my hands as hard as I could.
Something rattled on top and the ceiling lifted, but I couldn’t open it. It was then I felt a break in the ceiling. I moved over to the side and dragged my fingers against the angle where the ceiling and the side wall met. There was the space of a strand of hair between them with what I assumed were crude welds attaching them to each other. I guessed the top opened somehow.
