Chapter 3

fyi: missing persons, implied alcohol use, threat of violence

Sunday

“Hi, Mr. Robertson. I got into a car accident over the weekend and will be hospitalized for a couple days. Cameron is here with me. I am asking for you to please allow us to postpone our test. Sincerely, Vienna.”

It’s a bad lie, and I know it. But I send the email to my teacher anyway, knowing that there’s no way in hell that I’m going to be going to school or work tomorrow. At this point, I don’t really care about the upcoming test. Nor do I care about sleeping. I need to make a plan, and I need to make it fast. Based on the thoughts of the police officer that I was able to “overhear”, Cameron’s life could depend on me acting quickly. Any second wasted, any moment of inaction, could be deadly.

I’m in danger too, and I know it. But right now I’m at home, I’m alive, and I’m not in captivity. Instead, I’m sitting on my couch in front of my laptop searching the police officer’s name in hopes of finding a lead.

The name on the badge was S. Morrison. So far though, I’m having no luck finding any information about anyone with that last name. There are no articles mentioning her, and nothing on Facebook. I know that I’d recognize her face immediately if I saw it. There would be no mistaking those dark eyes.

After almost an hour of getting nowhere, I give up and close my laptop. There’s one more avenue I can try. I unplug my phone from the charger next to me and dial my mom’s number. She picks up after a few rings.

“Hello? Vi, is that you?” She’s drunk, I can tell by the way she’s slurring her words.

“Yes, mom, it’s me. I won’t keep you long, I just have a question.”

“What question? Where are you? You haven’t come to visit me in weeks.”

“I’m at home, ma. I need to know the phone number for that cop friend of yours – that one you dated a few years ago. Remember him? Tony, I think?”

“Tony? Why do you want his number? He’s a douche.” I hear glass breaking in the background and the phone apparently drops, since all I hear now is the crashing of the phone hitting linoleum and my mom cursing up a storm in the background. After almost four minutes, she picks the phone back up again.

“Are you still there?” she says, with more than a hint of agitation in her voice.

“I’m still here. Give me his phone number and I’ll let you get back to your drinking,” I say bitterly. “I know you have it – the number.”

“Fine. I’ll text it to you. Come visit sometime.” She hangs up without saying goodbye.

I sigh and wait for the text. She sends it almost ten minutes later. But I have it, and I hope to all that is good and holy that Tony answers. I dial the number.

“This is Tony,” a male voice says after one ring. “Who am I speaking with?”

“Uh, hi Tony, this is Vienna. Barron. I know it’s been a while….”

“Vienna. Why are you calling? Did your mother put you up to this? Tell her to leave me alone, I have a wife and a baby girl now and she’s invading my privacy.”

“No. She didn’t. I needed to talk you you. It’s urgent. I’ll be quick, I just have a question….”

“What’s it about?” This man had never been one to beat around the bush. He’s a cop, after all.

“An officer came to my apartment last night to ask about a domestic disturbance. Something seemed fishy. I thought she might be a fake cop. I hoped you could tell me if she works with you.”

“Tell me the name.”

“It was S. Morrison. She was tall and had black hair.”

Silence.

“Tony?” I ask after receiving no response.

“Meet me at the park bench that faces the river on the north side of Riverbend Park at 1300 sharp.” His tone changed completely. He sounded almost scared.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“Just do what I say.” He hangs up.

I contemplate my options for about thirty seconds before deciding my best choice would be to do what Tony said and meet him at the park in about an hour. I really have no other leads.

I check the travel time on my phone’s GPS to find out when I should leave. I find out it takes about twenty minutes to get to that section of the park, which is more isolated than the rest of the city park. It overlooks a river and is usually pretty serene.

I decide to leave early and wait for him there, since all I’m doing is sitting anxiously around my apartment. I get into my car, deciding to leave both my phone and Cameron’s at home since everyone knows they’re basically tracking devices that happen to make phone calls and send texts.

I drive quickly, going a little too fast around the corners of the large apartment complex. I almost hit a newer model black BMW, waving at the driver to apologize before continuing to speed through the complex.

I get to the park a little over thirty minutes early, and after finding the correct park bench I decide to walk around the nearest track for a bit, trying to calm my nerves.

When 1:00 comes, I’m already sitting on the bench. I look around for the somewhat-familiar face. He and my mom dated for about seven months nearly five years ago. It didn’t end well, but I’m pretty sure my mom still has a thing for him. He and I never spoke much, but since I was still living with my mom at the time, we did see each other when I was home. That was rare, though; I was usually at Cameron’s.

I see him coming from my right. He’s walking quickly and wearing a tan collared jacket. He looks distracted.

“Vienna,” he said as he approached. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are–”

He interrupts, speaking quickly and quietly. “Susan Morrison worked with me. She was one of the best police officers I knew. She was kind, intelligent, just.”

“Was?”

“Three days ago she went missing. Nobody has seen or heard from her – well, except for you, apparently. You said that was last night?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “I’m worried. She is not the kind of person to leave her son. Besides you, the last person who saw her was her ex-husband, who now has the child. She normally wouldn’t allow that to happen. She hates that man.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I’m not sure, but there was something –” Tony’s phone dings. He stops mid-sentence to check the text message. His eyes dart back and forth, reading the text message multiple times before looking back up at me with the best poker face I have ever seen.

“It’s good to see you, Vienna. Go home now.” And just like that, he turns around and walks away.

“Wait!” I shout. But he ignores me, and he’s walking so quickly that he’s gone before I even figure out what to say.

I get back in my car, feeling defeated. At least I have a name, though. And I know that something strange is happening. I wonder how she is connected to Cameron’s disappearance. And I wonder how the hell I’m going to find my friend.

By the time I get home, I feel exhausted. I haven’t slept, and even though it’s not even 2 p.m., all I want to do is pass out on the couch. I quickly exit my car, focused only on getting inside so I can lay down.

As I approach the door, I feel a sense of impending doom. I shake it off; I would only expect to feel that way with all that is going on. I go inside and take off my jacket and shoes, putting them away before heading to the living room.

The moment I hit the couch, I hear it. If “hearing” is the right word for it. It’s unmistakable – someone is in my apartment, and their thoughts are invading my mind.

“Come on… walk into to the bathroom. We’re already behind schedule. I need to get this shit over with.” His thoughts are so loud and clear it’s as though he’s sitting right next to me.

I dare not move. I’m pretty sure the only thing I can hear is the beating of my heart. My thoughts are racing, but there’s one thing I know for certain: someone is here to kill me, and they’re hiding in my bathroom.