“Exactly. This is not like Hannah. Something’s wrong. Listen, the case, the witness she went to visit—”
“Sorry, no phones. Check the parking lots. Sometimes people drop them getting in their cars or taxis.”
Her car. Kipley said it was left here. We both push past the exit and spot her car in the back of the lot. I hit the ground in a sprint with Kip right beside me. When I get to her car, I halt, realizing I’m holding my breath. I stall as Kip leans forward and pulls on the handle. It’s unlocked.
My chest constricts. Hannah would never leave her car unlocked.
Kip opens the door and leans in, then pops back out. “Nothing looks stolen or out of place.” His cell rings, and he withdraws it from his back pocket. “Dad…yeah, she’s not here. Hasn’t been. Not sure. We’re at her car right now.”
It’s then I spot it.
I bend down, extending my hand to reach behind her front tire. When I stand with her phone in my grip, my stomach bottoms out and I struggle against throwing up. “Call the police,” I whisper, refusing to believe what I’m asking. My mind is spinning, and I can’t keep up with all the tell-tale signs I should have seen from the moment she went unaccounted for.
“Someone got to Clara Hill.”
“She has to have been threatened. There’s no other explanation. We can’t let this happen. She has to testify.”
“I went to see Clara Hill. I got her testimony. The Millers did get to her. Threatened her son. I told her we’d protect her.”
“Hannah! That puts you in fucking danger!”
“We need to call the fucking police!” I roar, finally finding my voice, reliving the conversation we had. If Clara was being threatened, Hannah going to see her put her right in harm’s way. I grip tightly at my hair, dread crushing my chest. “We need…shit…we need…” I can’t breathe.
Someone got to Clara Hill.
Someone got to Clara Hill.
“They fucking did something to her. He fucking has her!” I grab at my chest, my lungs feeling as if they’re filling with cement, the gravity of the situation choking me. “Kip, your dad. The case…they got to her…”
Hannah
“No, no, no…” Braydon jumps off me, but I’m paralyzed on the floor. Fire shoots from my side, blinding whiteness in my vision at the pain exploding in my side. “No, no, no, NO!” he yells, losing his mind.
“Braydon, call 9-1-1,” I cry out. I’m afraid to move. My ribs spasm with every breath, and I’m not sure if the knife is still jammed in my back. “Braydon, please, you have to call for help.”
“No, I can’t!” He begins pacing around me. “Fuck, why did you run! You said you weren’t going to run!”
“Braydon, please. I’m hurt really bad.” I start to cry. I can’t assess how severe the cut is, but it hurts. I twist my head over my shoulder to assess my wound and see blood. “Braydon, if you don’t get me to a hospital, I could die.” This sends him into a complete panic.
“No, you’ll be fine. I’ll just call my dad. He’ll fix everything. He always does.”
The wound in my side throbs. “Unless your dad is a doctor, we need a hospital.” Oh my god, I’m going to die here. I can’t stop the dreadful sobs. I’ve tried to stay strong long enough.
“No, don’t cry. It will all be okay, I promise.”
“How!” I yell, regretting the force, wincing in pain. “You stabbed me. Don’t let me die here.”
He’s suddenly on the floor, kneeling next to me. “You won’t. I’ll fix this and we’ll be together.” He rips his phone from his pocket and dials a number. A deep voice sounds on the other end. “Dad? I fucked up…”
Levi
My lips are moving a mile a minute, trying to explain my theory. I doubt I’m even making sense. It takes Kip’s rough grip to stop my tirade. “Man, you have to calm down. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Who’s Clara? Why would she hurt my sister?”
Jim pulls up and jumps out of his car, rushing over to us. “Any news?”
Kipley shakes his head, his eyes creased. “No, we’re still waiting on the police to arrive.”
“Where’s Hannah’s phone? Give it to me.”
“It’s dead,” I say, handing it over. Jim doesn’t say another word and stalks back over to his vehicle to plug her phone into his charger.
The cop finally arrives. He takes his time climbing out of his car, and I explode. “What took you so fucking long?” I get in his face, but Kipley sticks his hand out and pulls me back. “Is this how fast you move with every missing person call?”
The officer doesn’t appreciate my tone, taking a stiff stance in front of me. “Sir, I’m gonna need you to calm down—”
“Calm down? I’m not going to calm down! My girlfriend is missing.”