Page 62 of Robb

But things had changed. She had changed – or at least, she was working on it. And she was determined to get this sorted, whether or not it made her feel uncomfortable.

Sure, she didn’t know where he was, or how to get in contact with him, but that kind of thing had never stopped her before. She’d find a way.

And in this instance, it wasn’t even that difficult to figure out where to start.

Hell, all going well, she wouldn’t even have to talk to Robb personally to find out about his wellbeing. It wasn’t like she didn’t know members of his team, who’d probably be happy to tell her he was upright and breathing, even if she couldn’t find out much else for reasons of national security, or whatever.

With a sudden feeling of purpose, she pulled out her phone. She had resolved to wait for two days, but that was all out the window now. If it turned out that Robb was actually fine, then so be it. She’d look stupid – though it wasn’t as if Robb himself knew about her self-imposed deadline – but she had to know.

Who would be the most likely to give me Robb’s number? she wondered, before the answer came to her simultaneously from both herself and the brolga:

Trent.

She dialed his number, tapping her foot impatiently against the wooden boards of the verandah.

It rang… and rang.

C’mon, Trent. Where are you? You never turn down the opportunity for a gasbag.

The phone stopped ringing.

“Hi! You’ve reached Trent. Well, you’ve reached Trent’s phone, anyway. Trent isn’t here. Or, he probably is here, but he’s not picking up. Leave him a message!”

“Trent, you idiot,” she muttered, before realizing that it was recording. “Trent? It’s Tahnee. Could you call me? It’s… um. Okay, well, it’s urgent. Thanks.”

She hung up, the feeling of unease spreading through her body and tightening its slimy grip around her heart. Trent was pretty much glued to his phone, both inside and outside of work hours, to the point where she was sure that he must’ve gotten in trouble for it with Robb.

The fact that he wasn’t picking up wasn’t in and of itself a red flag – she was sure he did some work sometimes – but, when put together with the sudden feeling of fear she’d had earlier, it was definitely pretty worrying.

Okay. No need to be a panic merchant about it, she told herself sternly. Trent could actually just be too busy to pick up the phone, for once. Try someone else.

With fingers that trembled only ever so slightly, she dialed Hector.

The phone rang.

Hector’s voicemail message wasn’t as obnoxious as Trent’s, but the end result was the same. No answer. Straight to voicemail.

Shit.

Tahnee may have never had a panic attack before, but she was starting to think that if things got much worse, she would probably find out exactly what it was like. Certainly her stomach was clenching in a really unpleasant manner, and the peaceful surrounds of her little home were doing absolutely nothing to calm her down. Even the brolga was starting to freak out.

She took a deep breath, and tried to approach the situation from a logical standpoint.

Surely there’s a rational explanation for all of this.

Robb probably wasn’t even in the same city as the others at the moment, after all. The odds of all of them being in trouble at the same time were pretty low.

… Yeah. I’m not convinced.

She raised her phone once more, preparing to call Liam over in the main building and ask him to get in contact with his friend Michael to call in that favor. She needed Robb’s number, and she needed it now.

Before she could hit the dial button, however, the phone buzzed, and she practically flung it across the verandah in her startlement.

Scrabbling to catch it before it hit the ground, she managed to just wrap her fingers around it and save it from a nasty end.

Calm your farm, Tahnee. You’re no good to anyone if you get into a tizzy and smash your phone.

Bringing the phone up in front of her face, her tentative hope turned to confusion.