Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“What?” I jump up and rip the blankets back. “What the fuck?” I turn the lights on. “Alora?” I call. I check the bathroom. “Alora,” I call as panic begins to set in. I dial her number and I hear a distant muffled ring downstairs.
I take the stairs two at a time.
Hello, you’ve reached Alora Sorenson. I’m sorry, I can’t take your call right now.
Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.
“The fuck?” I dial her number again. “Alora,” I call as I walk through the house, a sense of urgency coursing through my veins. I hear her phone ringing, it’s muffled and my eyes dart around as I search for it. “What is going on?”
Hello, you’ve reached Alora Sorenson. I’m sorry, I can’t take your call right now.
Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.
I march to the front door and tear it open. “Where is she?” I yell.
Philippe’s eyes widen and he runs up the driveway. “What do you mean?” he stammers.
“She isn’t here, there were pillows in her bed.”
“What?” He and the other guard glance at each other. “She hasn’t left and nobody has been here all night.”
I dial her number and once again a muffled ring sounds through the house. “Find. The. Fucking. Phone,” I growl.
Ring, ring…. Ring, ring….
They run from room to room as they follow the sound.
“It’s in here somewhere,” Philippe calls from the kitchen, we all run in and concentrate as we try to listen.
Hello, you’ve reached Alora Sorenson. I’m sorry, I can’t take your call right now.
Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.
“Fuck,” I yell. I hang up and immediately call it again.
Ring, ring…. Ring, ring.
“It’s low.” I listen.
Philippe gets down and puts his ear to the floor. “It’s down here somewhere.” He crawls along. “It’s under the fridge.”
My heart begins to hammer. “Why the fuck would it be under the fridge?” He gets a broom handle and slides it under and sure enough her phone comes into view.
He picks it up and we all stare at it, unsure what this means.
I open the fridge to see the two-liter bottles of milk and orange juice are tipped over as if the fridge was tipped. I look around and put two and two together. “There’s been a struggle.”
“I don’t, I have no…” Philippe stammers.
“What the fuck were you idiots doing all night?” I scream so loud the paint nearly peels from the walls. “Alora,” I cry. “Where are you?”
“Did she take off?” Philippe says. His fingers are clasped on top of his head; he too is beginning to panic. “You were fighting, perhaps she snuck out.”
“Without her phone?” I look around and see her purse on the table. I march over and search through it, her wallet is inside and I check and find all of her credit cards still here. “Without any money?”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump…goes my heart.
“Check her tracker,” Philippe snaps as he runs up the stairs.
“Yes, yes.” With shaky fingers I try to open the app on my phone, I’m so frazzled I can hardly see the screen. I watch as the little dot comes into view and I press Track.
The red dot begins to flash and I zoom in as I try to read it. The satellite view of a street comes into view. I zoom in further…it’s…. “Fuck, it’s this street.”
I zoom again and it gets closer and closer…it’s in this house. I frown, confused. “It says she’s still here?”
“Is she in her garden?” Philippe calls from upstairs.
I run into the garden and look around, no sign of her. “Check the back cameras,” I cry.
They begin running through footage on their phones while I walk around. I go back upstairs and look at the crumpled bed. I go into the bathroom and bend down in the shower, no water. She hasn’t showered. The first thing she would have done when she got home last night was shower. I walk around her bedroom, my eyes search every inch of the walls, the floors, the bed linen…. Anything, as I try to pick up a scent, a semblance of a clue to her whereabouts.
“Alora,” I call. “Are you here?” I get down on the floor and look under her bed, I search the wardrobe and go through her clothes. No empty hangers, did she pack anything? I run down to the level below and check where she keeps her suitcases, everything is still here.
“Where the fuck are you? Alora,” I call, I listen….
Nothing.
I check the tracker again, the dot flashes right here. I frown, this doesn’t make any sense.
She took it off….
Fuck.
My god, I should have told her it was a tracker and then she would have kept it on. But she never took it off anyway so…. Where is it?