Page 232 of Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout)
“We’re gonna find them. Keep it together, son.”
“Knox.” The worry in Fi’s tone had me turning fast.
“I gotta go,” I said and hung up. “What did you find?”
“Her coat and bag are still behind the bar. And the camera has her getting into a car in the parking lot about ten minutes ago.”
Ten minutes felt like a lifetime. “What kind of car? Who was driving?”
“I couldn’t tell. On either count. Some dark, crappy sedan. But it looks like she got in willingly.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Wraith demanded, poking his head into the kitchen. “There’s gonna be a revolt out here soon if someone doesn’t start pouring beers.”
“Naomi’s missing,” Fi told him.
“Fuck me.”
“Waylay too,” Max added with a tearful sniffle.
“Double fuck,” Wraith said, then disappeared back into the bar.
“Her phone,” Fi said.
“She’s not answering.”
“But she’s on your family plan, isn’t she?”
My mind was going a million miles a minute. I needed to get out there and start looking for her. Every second I wasted was one second that she got farther away. “Yeah.”
Max slapped me in the arm. “You can track her!”
Technology for the fucking win. I shoved my phone at her. “Find her.”
As she moved deft fingers over the screen, I headed for my office. I grabbed my coat and keys and returned to the bar.
It wasn’t the pandemonium I’d expected from pissed-off drinkers on a Saturday night. It was organized chaos. Wraith stood on the bar, boots planted between beer glasses. Everyone was gathered around, shrugging into coats.
“Last seen getting into a dark gray four-door shitmobile wearing a
denim skirt and long-sleeved shirt that says Honky Tonk.”
“What the hell is this?” I demanded.
“Search party,” Silver said as she shoved her arms into a gray tweed coat.
The front door opened, and everyone turned expectantly.
It was Lou and Amanda.
“Let ’em through,” Wraith ordered. The crowd parted for them, and they hurried forward.
“I got her!” Max said, holding my phone up triumphantly. “Looks like she’s just off Route 7 near the Lucky Horseshoe Farm.”
I snatched it out of her hand. “Call Nash,” I said, pointing to Lou.
Lou turned to Amanda. “Call Nash. I’m going with him.”
I didn’t waste time arguing. We hit the parking lot, and I had the truck started before either of us closed the doors. I floored it out of the lot, fishtailing onto the road.
