I wake with a panicked jolt and stumble out of my bed. It’s Sunday morning, only a few days since Sophie’s been gone, but it feels like a month.
I grab my phone, panicking that I missed something from her or Antonio while I crashed. There’s nothing from Sophie, and Antonio’s message just states that Miguel can pick me up if I want.
My stomach drops with worry again for Sophie. I grab my toiletry bag and head to the washroom down the hall. I go pee, staring at my phone the whole time, willing Sophie to call me.
There’s hardly anyone in the dorms, and the bathroom stays empty as I wash up and brush my teeth, trying to ignore the paranoia and trepidation that makes my nerves buzz.
Suddenly, wanting the safety of my room with a locked door, I hurry back to my dorm room. My ringing phone makes me jump, and I fumble, trying to get it. Seeing it’s Zac calling, my stomach drops. I answer as I unlock my door and go back into the room. “Hey.”
“Don’t sound so overjoyed that it’s me.”
“Sorry.”
Making sure my door is locked, because my nerves are lit, I sit on the edge of my bed, fighting another surge of tears. I’ve never wanted to cry so much in my entire life. My emotions—worry, fear, paranoia—are all raging.
“Still no word?” he asks, not hiding his worry either.
“No. You?”
“I would’ve let you know immediately.”
“Look at that, everyone,” I scoff. “Zac Watkins does have the ability to think of other people.”
“Ouch.”
Jesus, my ramped-up emotional state is making me an asshole.
I wince. “Sorry.”
“No, I get it. I’m a dick.”
“Not a dick, just a douche canoe man-whore.” I smile weakly when he chuckles.
“You doing okay?”
“Not really.” I stand from my bed, go to the window over my desk, and stare at the overcast day.
“I’m trying to convince my dad to let me come back earlier,” Zac says.
“How’s that working out?”
“What Byron Watkins wants, Byron Watkins gets. So not likely until closer to the weekend, like originally planned.”
Zac sounds miserable, and I frown. “Are you okay?”
He exhales harshly. “This isn’t about me. What are we going to do about Sophie?”
I lean against my desk. “Tell me again why you’re so concerned.”
“Because she’s my friend, too. And because maybe I’m not the elitist prick I pretend to be.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, rubbing my left eye, which is twitching. It’s an annoying tic that happens when I’m exhausted and stressed. “Antonio and Miguel are here.” I change the subject to something more productive and helpful than trying to understand Zac. “They have some help; some security people with experience in things like this.”
I leave out the Severyn Andrews piece, my gut telling me that tidbit and her notoriety associated with this won’t help Sophie, and she’s is all I care about.
“They want to talk to you,” I add. “I gave them your number.”
“I’ll share whatever I can to be helpful.”
“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Likewise.” We’re silent until Zac says, “She’s going to be okay, Oll.”
I bite my top lip, resisting the urge to cry again, and look up at my ceiling.
“You okay there by yourself?” he asks.
“Yeah, what do you mean?” My paranoia spikes again.
“It’s spring break; there’s fewer people around.”
“Jesus, you really are doing a complete about-face, aren’t you?”
“Sheesh, can’t a guy be considerate—”
“Yeah, they can, but typically not you.”
“Oh, and you know me so well?”
He’s right; I don’t know him. I only know him by his reputation. “Thanks for giving a shit, Zac. I’m fine. Campus is secure,” I say to reassure myself as much as him.
“If Sophie was running away from someone… That happened on campus. We don’t know what’s going on.”
“I know.” My voice sounds squeaky, and I clear my throat. “I’ll be careful.”
“I’ll talk to Jack and ask security to do extra rounds around your building, okay?”
Some of my tension dissipates. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
“Keep in touch.”
I hang up and move back to my bed. I set my phone on it and double-check that the ringer is on.
“I’m becoming OCD,” I mutter, going to my dresser and grabbing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. I dress, then grab a hair tie from my bowl of them on my desk and pull my unruly curly hair back into a tight ponytail.
My phone rings out a notification, and I frown. It’s the sound for when I get a voicemail. Picking up my phone, I see I do have a voicemail. But my phone hasn’t rung, so how could I get a voicemail?
I check my call log; the last call is from Zac and there are no missed calls.
I open my voicemail app, type in my passcode, and press play.
“Hey, Oll, hope the start of your spring break is great!”
“Sophie.” My legs give way, and I sink onto my bed. She sounds so chipper. And alive.
“I’m just checking in using a friend’s phone because I forgot mine in my desk drawer. I know, so not like me, right? Anyway, I’m not sure if you stuck around for the full weekend, but I just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a few more days. I didn’t want you to worry, and I’m sorry I missed you. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Bye, Pep-Rally. Like you a little.”
“Bye, Killjoy. Love you a lot,” I reply with our usual send-off without thinking.
Relief floods me.
Sophie is okay. She just forgot her phone. I overreacted for nothing.
I laugh out loud but then sober as the flash flood of relief dries up instantly.
Sophie would’ve never forgotten her phone, and never in her drawer. She always had it with her. Even when she goes to sleep at night, she never ever puts her phone in her desk drawer. She’s always on-call for her family.
And how did I get a voicemail when my phone didn’t ring or register a call—missed or otherwise?
I double-check my call log; Zac is still the last caller. The one prior to that was from Antonio last night.
Even if Sophie had called while I was talking to Zac, it would’ve registered in the log.
Panic and dread replace the short-lived relief. I call Antonio, and as soon as he answers, I blurt, “I got a voicemail from Sophie. I think it’s fake.”
“What? Slow down, Olivianne.” Antonio calls me by my full name, which I hate, but ignore that and explain what happened.
“Can you come here ASAP?” he asks. “We’ll get our team to listen and look into it. Okay?”
“Yes.” Unease blooms in me, though, remembering Zac’s caution. If the voicemail is fake, then that means someone really does have Sophie and doesn’t want me to worry and go to the police. They could be watching me. My paranoia spikes, coupled with a good dose of anxiety. “Do… do you think you or Miguel could pick me up?”
I hate how scared and weak I sound.
“Oh, cariño, of course.”
His calling me sweetheart almost does me in, and I swallow a sob.
“Miguel is leaving right now.”
“Thank you,” I force out.
“Hang tight, cariño. We’ll see you soon.”
My hands shake as I sit on my bed. I need to call Zac and let him know this, but I need a minute.
The voicemail—possibly fake—from Sophie is too much, and I feel like I’m about to shatter.
Miguel picks me up, and the drive to the hotel is fast. He drives the Audi 5 like a professional racecar driver. His thick-veined hands clutch the wheel and work the stick shift. If he wasn’t my friend’s uncle’s partner, and I wasn’t so worried about my friend that I felt like I was going to hurl, I’d more fully appreciate his rugged hotness. Not that I’m into the guy, and I know he doesn’t swing for my team, but a girl can appreciate a specimen when in his presence.
He looks at me with concern as he parks the car. “You okay?”
“Yep,” I squeak and get out.
He presses the fob to lock the car, and we hurry into the hotel from the back parking lot. He opens the door for me, and we head straight for the elevators.
“Did you eat?” he asks, and I shake my head. “We have brunch in the room. We’ll order up fresh stuff for you, though.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m barely hanging on to my stomach’s contents as it is.”
The door dings and opens onto our floor, and Miguel looks down at me with concern. “Food is just as important as sleep.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Okay, Father.”
He smirks. Our loosely jovial nature falls away when we enter the hotel suite, especially when I see Ryn and her security team in the room.
Antonio rushes to me, enveloping me in a hug, and I cling to him, feeling like he’s my rock and connection to Sophie. The tightness with which he squeezes me tells me he feels the same.
I pull back and hold out my phone. “There are no missed calls in the log, and I know it wasn’t an issue with having no service because I had just gotten off the phone with Zac.”
Worry fills Antonio’s eyes. “Abuela got a voicemail, too. Same situation as you; no phone call, and the voicemail just showed up.”
“Shit,” I whisper, my eyes going wide. “She’s probably worried sick.”
Antonio looks guilty. “None of my family is aware of what’s happening; I haven’t told them yet. Abuela just thought it was odd but didn’t think much else of it.”
“Sophie calls Abuela every few days to check in,” Miguel explains. “That call was so that still happened.”
“Sophie didn’t want her or you, Ollie, to worry.” Ryn stands by the window in dark jeans and a black turtleneck.
“Or someone doesn’t want any red flags to be raised that they have her,” I state the alternative, looking around the room.
No one disputes my statement, and my worry for Sophie increases tenfold because this isn’t me overreacting. Either Sophie is in danger and someone is keeping her safe, or someone—AKA the bad guys—have her and are covering their asses.
Nexin comes over to me. He, Rolf, and Tag are all dressed like they’re ready to go out onto the streets to fight said bad guys—black pants, shirts, and boots. “Could I listen to the voicemail, Ollie?”
I open my voicemail app, get the message, and hand Nexin my phone.
“How about we sit?” He motions to the sofa.
I sink into the corner of the sofa and hug my knees to my chest. Antonio sits in an armchair, and Ryn comes from the dining room table and sits on the arm of Antonio’s chair. Tag stands behind her, and Rolf and Miguel talk quietly in the corner.
“I have a program to analyze the voice to check if it’s Sophie’s.” Nexin pulls a tablet from his bag and sits on the other end of the sofa. “It will also detect if the message was spliced together.”
“You mean, if it’s like a bunch of recordings of Sophie, and the words are cut and pasted to make this message?” I hug my knees tighter.
“Exactly.” He smiles as he presses play on Sophie’s message.
I bite my lip as I hear her voice, forcing the tears back. I’m not a crier normally, but I’ve constantly fought tears the past few days. Nexin plays the message three times, and each time, my breath catches in my throat with her goodbye.
Instead of focusing on that, I regard Tag standing so close behind Ryn. The guy is like her shadow, protective and possessive, like he can’t let her get too far away from him. Ryn looks at him over her shoulder, and his dark look eases somewhat.
He gently pushes her hair behind her ear, then focuses on Nexin. “Is the program picking anything up?”
Nexin frowns, then glances up at us. “It’s authentic. It’s Sophie’s voice, and it wasn’t spliced together.”
“You’re sure?” Tag asks.
“This program is positive. But I’ll shoot it to Genuis Man for deeper analysis.”
“Could there have been a delay in the voicemail arriving?” Rolf asks.
“You mean, did Sophie call earlier? And there was a glitch with Ollie’s connection to the tower, and it pushed the voicemail when it reconnected?” Nexin shrugs. “That’s a possibility.”
“But I had just been speaking to Zac not even a minute earlier,” I protest.
Nexin presses his lips together. “I’ll see what I can find out about the provider towers in the area and if there has been anything regarding connection issues, so we can officially rule that out.”
“What do we do now?” I ask, scanning the room. I need them to have a plan because I have nothing. Zilch. Zip. Nada. And I’m going to lose my mind with worry.
Ryn gets off the arm of Antonio’s chair and comes to sit on the coffee table in front of me. “You can help us go through a list of some names if you think you’re up for it?”
“Yes. Anything.”
Ryn looks at me with understanding and empathy. “Good. We’ll get some food into you and get right to it.”
“You and Miguel reading from the same playbook?”
Miguel snorts, and Ryn smiles. “Yep, the playbook for catching the bad guys.”
“Count me in, then.” I’ll do whatever they tell me to do, as long as I can do something to contribute to finding my friend.
“Cariño, we think it might be best for you to stay at the hotel.”
My earlier fear and paranoia return with Antonio’s concern. My eyes widen, and my bottom lip quivers before I suck it between my teeth. “You think I’m in danger?”
“It’s just to be cautious, Ollie,” Tag says, sounding like he’s trying not to spook me.
“You can stay here in our suite,” Antonio offers and motions to the sofa. “That pulls out into a comfy bed.”
“Trust me.” Nexin pats the cushion. “It’s deceptively comfortable for a pull-out sofa.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I say, reluctance and fear playing against each other.
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Antonio insists. “Or Miguel and I can get you your own room. But staying here with us makes the most sense if we think there might be a risk.”
I’m torn about what to do. I can’t afford a place like this, even for one night, and I won’t accept their charity for them to pay for my own room, but I don’t want to impose by staying with them.
However, I don’t want to return to my dorm right now. Especially not with so many people gone. Students will start returning mid-to-late week, but until Wednesday or Thursday, the place will be a ghost town. Zac had said he’d ask campus security to do more rounds by my dorm, but that won’t fully protect me if someone comes there, either for me or Sophie.
“Soph would kick our asses six ways from Sunday if we didn’t take care of her friend,” Miguel says, hooking his thumbs in his belt.
Antonio smiles at him, but emotion fills his eyes when he turns back to me. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t even know Sophie was in trouble. Please, let us do this, cariño.”
The tears I’ve been forcing back surge forth again, and I can’t stop them this time as two roll down my cheeks. I nod, accepting their offer to stay here.
Wiping away my tears, I look at Ryn and her security team. “Zac knows you’ll call him and is waiting to talk with you.”
“Thanks. It will be good to get his insight.” Ryn squeezes my hand. “We’ll get this figured out, Ollie.”
It feels like a promise, and I grasp onto that, needing it more than I realize. Antonio does, too, it seems, as he reaches over and hugs Ryn from behind, and she squeezes his arm.
It helps that I’m not alone in this angst and worry. And it helps that people who know what to do are taking charge. I will do whatever I can to help them.
