“There must be an accident,” Gabby says. “We’ll turn off up here.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t had any contractions in a few minutes. Maybe they’re false ones again,” I reason, wondering if I’m jumping the gun by going to the hospital. I’m not due for another week, so maybe these are just intense Braxton Hicks contractions, preparing me for what’s to come soon. I’m just about to tell her to turn around when I see smoke. “Something’s on fire.”
Gabby looks ahead. “God, I think it’s up by the gym.”
My heart starts to pound a bruising beat in my chest and my breathing is labored. Fear starts to creep up my neck, setting my nerves on edge. The gym takes up most of the block. There’s a bank and travel agency to the north, but that’s it. In my heart, I know. I know what I’m about to find isn’t going to be good. “Get us up there, Gabby,” I whisper, panic setting in as I think about something happening to Harrison.
“They’re rerouting traffic. We’re going to have to go on foot,” she says, turning off into a parking lot about a block away from the gym. “Let’s go,” she adds, the moment she stops haphazardly in a spot.
I’m out of my car much quicker than I would have anticipated. With my hand in hers, we practically run toward the gym. Two fire trucks are positioned in the street with their hoses running into the building my husband purchased and built into his livelihood. It’s dark, but the streetlights give just enough glow that I can see the damage inside.
“Hold it right there,” a fireman says, holding up his hands to keep us from proceeding any closer. “You have to back up behind the barricade.”
I just start to open my mouth when I see a familiar face. “Chase!” I yell, pulling the attention of our friend.
He runs over to where we stand, panic and relief mixing on his dirty face. “Jesus, Gwen, where in the fuck have you been?” he asks, pulling me into a tight hug.
“What? Where’s Harrison?” I glance over his shoulder, but don’t spot him anywhere.
“He went looking for you! You haven’t been answering your phone and he’s freaking out.”
“Oh, shit. My phone’s on vibrate in my purse,” I confess, instantly regretting the immature move of shutting off the ringer when I was mad. “He missed our appointment. I was upset,” I add, feeling horrible.
“He’s been going crazy,” Chase informs.
“I texted him and told him where she was,” Gabby adds.
“His phone broke. Everything’s gone to complete shit this afternoon,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing at the building.
Gabby steps up to Chase and throws her arms around his neck. If he’s startled by her sudden show of affection, he doesn’t show it. “What happened?” she asks as she pulls away.
“Everything,” he groans. “The phones went down first. They say someone cut our line and it’d take a few hours to get it back up and running. Then the computers. I’m pretty sure it was a virus. I had just checked Harrison’s schedule right before it happened because one of his clients needed to reschedule. It said your appointment was at four,” he says, but I interrupt.
“My appointment was at three. I watched him put that in his calendar.”
“We know that now. He went to the appointment but was told you were already done and gone. He tried to call you, but his cell phone wasn’t working. He came back here, confused as hell as to how the mix-up happened. I was on the phone with IT for our software program when the fire alarm went off.”
“Christ,” Gabby declares.
“We were able to get everyone out, but it was difficult. The place was pretty busy already and one of the yoga classes had just started.”
“I can’t believe this,” I whisper, watching as the firefighters start to pull out of the building.
“We’re pretty lucky,” Chase says. “They say it started in the girls’ locker room. Towels and an accelerant.”
“Arson?” This from Gabby.
“Looks that way.” He sighs.
“We need to find Harrison.” I glance around, trying to figure out where he’d be. Clearly if he’s out looking for me, he’s going to check all the obvious places first. Our place, my parents, even Gabby’s.
“We can’t call him. His phone is still jacked up,” Chase says, just as a contraction takes hold. I lean over slightly, grabbing my stomach and trying to breathe deeply through the pain.
“Gwen?” Gabby steps up beside me. “Shit, we have to get you to a hospital.”
“Harrison?” I ask, gasping through the most intense contraction I’ve had yet.
“I’ll find him,” Chase declares, taking me in his arm and starting to guide me toward his truck. “Mine’s closer. Take it and get her to the hospital,” Chase adds, pulling his keys from his pocket and handing them to my sister.
“Her car is in the lot by the hardware store,” Gabby replies, racing toward Chase’s big truck.
When we reach it, another contraction takes hold, this one refusing to let up. I moan loudly, fighting through the pain. It’s so intense that it’s hard to breathe, let alone think. Chase has the door open and is getting ready to help me up when I feel it. Wetness runs down my leg as I make eye contact with my husband’s best friend. The fear in his eyes sends me into a full-blown panic.
“Gabby, my water broke!”
Chapter 19
Harrison
* * *
My heart races, the heavy rhythm beating like a bass drum against my chest. This day was already fucked up, but to make it worse, I missed our appointment. Someone is fucking with us, to the point someone changed the time on my calendar. I’ve never missed an appointment, and guilt and sadness weigh heavily on me for not being there. Now I don’t know where she is. I’ve tried calling her, with no luck. No one has seen her.
Fear takes hold as I press the accelerator a little farther to the floor. Maybe she’s at home, sleeping. She’s a week away from her due date, and I worry constantly. What if something happened? What if she’s hurt, what if…? I shake my head and press the accelerator even harder. I won’t be able to ease this fear until I find her.
With my tires squealing, I pull into our driveway. I hit the button for the garage door. Her car’s not there. I still rush into the house, calling out for her with no reply. I search every room and come up empty-handed. “Fuck!” I reach for the house phone that I told her years ago we didn’t need. She argued it might come in handy one day. Today is that day. My cell phone is jacked. The screen is locked or some shit. I can’t get it to unlock. I can’t answer or make calls, send texts. All I can do is stare at the now worthless piece of shit. Just another pile of shit on this fucked-up day.
Quickly, I dial her number, and it again goes straight to voice mail. “Damn it, Winnie, where the hell are you?” I say, crashing the phone down on the receiver. Stalking to the garage, I slam the door, and race to my truck. I barely remember to hit the button to close the garage doors. Not that it matters. Someone could rob us blind, but I don’t give a damn. All that matters is finding my wife.
I’m aware that I’m a maniac, and that chances are she’s fine, but there’s been too much shit happening the last few weeks. The list is ever growing, and now I can’t find her. I know she was at her appointment, but that’s it. Turning my truck toward Gabby’s house, I’m cussing myself for not trying to call her when I had the chance. I also should have called our parents, but hind
sight and all that. I’m not turning back, losing ground. I need to find her. I need to see with my own eyes that she and our baby are okay.
Please, God, let them be okay.
I make it to Gabby’s in record time, and there are no signs of either of them. The truck is barely in park before the door is flying open and I’m jogging to the front door, pounding. “Gabby!” I yell, trying to peer through the windows.
Nothing.
Silence greets me.
“Damn it!” I race back to my truck and fly out of her driveway, heading toward her parents’ place. Worry and fear grip at my chest. Where could she be? She’s miserable at this stage of her pregnancy, even though she tries to hide it, I can see how tired and uncomfortable she’s been. She has to be at her parents or mine. Those are my last two options. I can’t imagine her wanting to do anything but prop her feet up. Where else would she go? Maybe she went to the gym? That’s possible. We could be circling around each other. It’s a cluster fuck over there right now, but I’ll drive by and see if I can spot her car. Luckily, it’s not much of a detour to get to her parents’ place.
I have to find her.
My eyes scan the sides of the road, looking for her car all while praying I don’t find her broken down or worse. I grip the wheel tighter, so tight my knuckles are white, but I don’t let go. Instead, I press harder on the accelerator, pushing the limits of the law, and my truck. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not stopping for anyone but my wife. Not until I find her. My heart hammers in my chest as my fear of something happening to her grows. I try to tamp it down, but the anxiety is tangible, and it’s taken root.
About a block away from the gym, I see a car coming toward me that looks like hers. I slow as it passes and I know it’s hers, but she’s not driving, Chase is. His hand is out the window flagging me down. I slam on the brakes and do a U-turn. I couldn’t give a fuck that I’m breaking the law. Chase is pulled off on the side of the road, and already walking toward my truck when I pull in behind him.