Page 87 of Jenna's Protector
Walt is silent for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking in, and then he curses.
“Shit, Carter. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave. She made me go. Said you’d be there in just a couple of minutes.” His words tumble out in a rush, laced with panic and regret. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have listened. I should’ve stayed with her.”
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. It’s not Walt’s fault. Jenna can be stubborn when she sets her mind to something.
“When was the last time you saw her? Did anything seem off? Out of the ordinary?”
Walt takes a deep breath as if trying to collect his thoughts.
“It wasn’t that long ago. Ten, twenty minutes? She seemed fine. A little tired, maybe, but nothing unusual. She was closing up the café.”
I should’ve gone to the café first, but with traffic delaying me, I assumed she already went home. I could have missed her between here and there.
My mind races with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.
“Where are you?” Walt asks.
“At the café. It’s empty. No sign of a struggle, but…” I trail off, unable to voice the fears clawing at my throat. Walt seems to understand anyway.
“Fuck, Carter. I’m on my way. We’ll find her.”
It’s a plan, a course of action. Something to focus on beyond the buzzing static of panic in my head.
“I’m going to retrace her steps. I’m assuming she walked home.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
“Copy that.” I end the call, my hand clenching around the phone like it’s a lifeline.
Retrace her steps. Right. I can do that. I have to do that.
I push off from the wall and start walking, my feet moving of their own accord. The night air is cool against my skin, but I barely feel it. All I feel is the pounding of my heart and the sick, twisting fear in my gut.
Jenna’s apartment isn’t far from the café, a walk she’s madecountless times. I try to see the street through her eyes, to imagine her footsteps on the pavement.
Did she feel safe? Did she know something was wrong? The questions swirl in my mind, taunting and relentless.
I quicken my pace, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Come on, Jenna. Where are you?
A cat slinks across the deserted road, disappearing into the shadows. A car passes, headlights cutting through the darkness, but there’s no sign of Jenna.
No sign at all.
I round the corner, and my heart stops.
There. A shape on the pavement. Dark and unmoving. For a moment, my mind refuses to process what my eyes are telling me.
It can’t be. It can’t.
But as I draw closer, the shape resolves into a form I know all too well.
No. No, no, no.
I break into a run, my feet pounding against the pavement.
THIRTY-ONE