Page 88 of Searching for Bristol
He waited a full minute, then sent another text.
Rocky: Hey, Punky, you there?
Another minute passed with no response and no indication she’d seen his text.
The hair on the back of Rocky’s neck stood up and he put his vehicle into gear. It was silly to think something was wrong. Bristol was at the apartment, right where she’d been earlier. The last time he’d heard from her was when she’d gotten home from her meeting with the realtor. She had no plans for the rest of the day, and if she’d changed her mind and gone out, she would’ve told him.
Rocky wasn’t usually a man who jumped to conclusions…about anything. But he couldn’t help feeling a pit of dread expanding in his stomach. It was likely he’d get home and Bristol would be lost in the creative process. Or listening to music so loudly, she hadn’t heard his messages come through.
Deep down, Rocky didn’t believe either option. She hadn’t once failed to respond to a text. It wasn’t that he expected her to stop whatever she was doing to pay attention to him when he called or sent her a message, but his gut told him something wasn’t right.
He prayed he was wrong. That he’d get back to the apartment and Bristol would tell him he was being overprotective and ridiculous. Maybe they’d even have their first fight and she’d tell him he needed to chill out or something. He actuallywantedthat to happen.
Because the alternatives filling his head were unacceptable.
It felt as if it took way longer than normal to drive through Fallport to get to the apartment. His gaze roamed the complex and nothing seemed amiss. There were no strange cars in the lot, and no one was out and about. He parked and jumped out of the car, jogging for the stairs. He took them two at a time and ran down the walkway toward his door. He turned the knob, but it was locked.
Telling himself that was a good sign, it took precious seconds for him to find the right key and fit it into the lock. Rocky pushed the door open, the scent of a freshly baked cake slamming into him.
A sweet surprise, Bristol had said. Relief swam through his veins as Rocky closed the door behind him. “Bristol?” he called out.
There was no answer.
He walked into the apartment and looked toward the kitchen, where he sometimes found her when he got home from work. She wasn’t there. He saw the cake she’d made sitting on the stovetop on a cooling rack. It wasn’t iced, which made him frown.
“Bristol?” he said again. But as before—no answer.
Turning, Rocky froze when he saw Bristol’s cell phone on the counter.
He picked it up and hit the home button. Previews of the texts he’d sent immediately popped up on the screen. Along with messages from Lilly, Elsie, Sandra, and even Khloe.
He put the phone back on the counter and headed for the hallway. The bathroom door was open and Bristol wasn’t inside. His hand shook as he opened the master bedroom door. It was a weird feeling to both bedreadingfinding her there, hurt somehow and unable to move, andhopinghe found her that way. If she was hurt, he could get her help. But if she wasn’t there…
His worst fears were realized when the room was exactly how they’d left it that morning. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her, had bent her over the mattress and taken her from behind. The sheet had gotten pulled off the mattress in their exuberance, and Bristol had mock complained about making the bed. Rocky had kissed her and promised to make it when he got home.
But as he stared at the askew sheets, he knew. Even without checking the room she’d slept in when she’d first arrived, he knew Bristol wasn’t there. She would’ve changed the sheets herself. Wouldn’t have actually waited for him do it.
Spinning on his heel, Rocky went back into the living area and opened the door to his apartment. He ran outside and leaned over the railing. He had no idea what he was looking for.
No, that wasn’t true. He was looking for any sign of where Bristol might be. Any kind of clue. But all he saw was the same thing he did every time he left his apartment. Turning, Rocky ran his gaze over his door. It had been locked when he’d gotten home, but her phone, keys, and purse were still inside the house.
Shit. Rocky was damn good in the woods. At following tracks. At recognizing a roadside bomb from a hundred yards away. Could spot snipers in buildings in a hostile town. But he wasn’t a crime tech. Didn’t know what to start looking for in his house to help him find the woman he loved.
He clenched his teeth hard as he pulled his phone out once more. HelovedBristol…and hadn’t told her. If something happened to her, and he never got the opportunity to let her know how deeply she was loved, he’d never forgive himself.
He might be overreacting, but his gut still said otherwise.
He clicked on a contact and waited impatiently for his friend to answer.
“Hey, Rocky, what’s up?” Drew said as he answered.
“I need you.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Bristol’s gone and I need your help. I need everyone’s help.”
“I’m on my way,” Drew said.
