Page 89 of Searching for Bristol
Rocky could hear his friend moving in the background. He closed his eyes and did his best not to panic. He was relieved Drew hadn’t asked if he was sure. Rocky knew Bristol was in trouble as surely as he knew his name. It was a bone-deep feeling. The same one he’d had when he was seven and Ethan had crashed his bike. He hadn’t been there, but he knew his twin was hurt. The same feeling he had when Ethan had almost been blown to pieces by a bomb when they were SEALs.
“Where are you? At your apartment?” Drew asked.
“Yes.” The word came out more as a whisper than anything else.
“Do not touch anything. Understand? There could be DNA and other evidence.”
“I’m standing outside,” Rocky said.
“Good. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m gonna hang up and call the others. Will you be okay until we get there?”
Would he be okay? No. Not knowing Bristol was somewhere out there, probably scared, maybe hurt. He was well aware of the statistics that said the first hours after someone was taken were the most important. How if someone wasn’t found within those first critical two days, it was likely they’d never be.
He couldn’t think of his Bristol not being in this world. She was his shining light. She made him want to be a better person.
Putting a hand over his heart, Rocky inhaled deeply. She wasn’t dead yet. Heknewit. Felt it deep inside. He still had a chance to find her. To bring her home. And whoever had dared touch her would regret it.
“Rocky? I need you with me. Do not lose it!” Drew barked.
“I’m here,” he told his friend.
“Good. I’m hanging up to call everyone else. Stay put.”
Rocky nodded and heard the line go dead. He turned around and stared into his apartment. There was a chance she’d simply forgotten her phone, purse, and keys, and had gone to hang out with one of her new friends, but Rocky dismissed that thought immediately. She’d never leave without her phone. After her experience, she understood more than most the importance of having a way to communicate with others.
No, this was bad.
More than bad. And all Rocky could do was stand there and pray Bristol was strong enough to get through whatever it was life had thrown at her now.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
When Bristol woke up, she was extremely confused. The room she was in was dim. The only light came from a very low-wattage bulb in the lamp next to the bed she was lying on. A bed that didn’t smell or feel familiar.
As awareness returned, she realized that she had a raging headache…and that her leg hurt so bad, tears immediately sprang to her eyes. It didn’t make sense. Her leg was mostly healed. Doc Snow had said so just the other day.
“Hello, Bristol,” a deep voice said from her immediate right.
Turning her head, she blinked through the tears and recognized her neighbor…Lance.
And just like that, everything came back to her. Instinctively, she tried to jerk away from him, but the pain in her leg came back tenfold. She cried out in pain.
“Easy,” Lance said, as he reached out to grab hold of her arm. “You need to stay still, otherwise you’ll hurt yourself even more.”
Looking down, Bristol saw her right ankle had a chain around it that disappeared off the end of the bed. But more than that—her pink cast was gone. Her leg was stark white, the skin peeling and badly in need of cleaning. But that wasn’t what had her staring in disbelief.
She was bleeding, badly, and if the pain she was feeling was any indication, her leg was re-fractured.
“I’m sorry about that,” Lance said, not sounding sorry at all. “I had to take the cast off in order to properly restrain you, to make sure you wouldn’t be able to leave me. And in the process, you got hurt again.”
Visions of the movieMiseryflashed in Bristol’s mind. Had Lance purposely broken her leg so she couldn’t walk?
“But you’ll heal. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll bring you everything you need…food, water, and the stuff you need to make your jewelry. I went to your house, you know.” His voice was even and smooth, as if he was talking about the weather, not about chaining her up and keeping her captive.
“My house?” Bristol asked, doing her best not to freak out. She needed to stay calm. Figure out what the hell was going on and how to get the fuck out of there.
“Yes. When you were gone for so long, I got worried. You weren’t online, you weren’t fulfilling orders from your website. I knew something bad had happened. And I was right. When you finally came home, I was so relieved…but you were withhim. He’s not good for you, Bristol. You haven’t paid attention to messages from your followers and customers at all, or to your website. You haven’t put up any new merchandise. That’s not good.
“When you left, I followed you here. To this awful fucking town. Where everyone is in everyone’s business. It’s disgusting,” he spat, sounding angry for the first time, before calming again. “When I went home, I planned. I went back to your house and got some of your things. Stuff you’ll need until I can take you back tomyhome, where we’ll be so happy together. I have your soap, your books…and look, even a picture of your mother.”
