Page 19 of Keeping Her Under
But to do that, I need to find her phone.
It’s my only potential lead given there wasn’t a laptop at her house, and all of my searches for her on social media have come up empty. Which means she’s either paranoid about Big Brother, protective of her privacy, or has recently scrubbed all her accounts due to some ‘event.’
An event that caused her to drive too fast around that corner perhaps?
Fury burns inside my chest, growing with every step I take through my neighborhood. I should’ve found Summer sooner. I should’ve brought her here. I should’ve protected her from ending up with her shitty boyfriend.
Turning off my street, I cut through a park where the lights don’t reach, where the shadows stretch to swallow the secrets of man. The swings creak in the light breeze, and I slow to a stop in front of them. Sweat drips down my face and back, and I rest both hands on my sides, breathing deep.
A towel is tossed at me, thrown by a shadow I can barely see.
“Wipe yourself down,” Asher says. “I don’t want you stinking up the car.”
Rubbing the cotton across my face, I follow him to the vehicle he’s stolen for tonight – a dark-blue Fiat Panda. It’s parked under a tree, near a broken street lamp, and I use the towel to open the door so as not to leave any prints. Asher’s already wearing gloves.
I slide into the passenger seat while he slips into the driver’s. He doesn’t turn on the headlights as he slowly crawls away from the park.
The streets are empty, no riff-raff up at this time of night. No witnesses to later testify they saw us together. My pulse steady despite the risk of what we’re about to do, I peel my tank top off, dry myself with the towel, then do the same with my shorts.
Reaching for the clothes Asher left for me on the dash, I say, “I didn’t find her phone.”
“Not surprising.”
Annoyed, I pull on the black, long-sleeve shirt. I hoped he’d have a better response than that. Some advice perhaps on how to search –
A phone lands in my lap.
“What’s this?” I ask picking it up.
“A phone.”
“No, duh, dipshit. Is it hers?”
Asher shrugs. “No idea. Haven’t been able to get in.” A smile twitches at a corner of his lips.
My jaw clenches. “You fucker. I was out there for hours. You said it wasn’t logged.”
“It wasn’t. I went out and found it after your call last week. Count it as my birthday present to you.”
“That’s months away.”
“I can hold it until –”
I jerk the phone away from him as he tries to reach for it.
He laughs.
“Asshole.” I don’t mutter it.
He laughs harder.
“Finish getting dressed,” he says as I turn the phone on, but my eyes stay glued to the cracked loading screen.
“It’s fingerprint locked. You’ll have to wait until you see her.”
I still don’t move. Not until I see for myself that it is, in fact, locked as he says it is.
“What, did you think I was lying?” he asks, sounding wounded.
