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I nod and run out of the diner. I then hop in my truck and drive over to the general store. Fuck. It’s almost five. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is beating practically right through my chest. Every muscle in my body is tense.
Walking through the door, I’m greeted by Marie, the store owner.
“Sheriff! What brings you in today?” She leans on the counter, putting her head in her hands.
“I’m looking for someone.” I pull out my phone and bring up the picture again. “Have you seen her?”
“Oh, yes! She came in here earlier. Got a few things.” Marie stands up straighter. “Is everything okay?”
“No. Did she tell you where she was staying?”
Marie nods. “No, but I saw her head towards the motel down the block.” Before she can say anything more, I turn and run out the door.
Jumping in my truck, I throw it in reverse and peel out of the parking lot. Shifting back into drive, I punch the gas pedal and take off towards the motel. It’s a short minute drive, thank God. I pull right in front of the office and jump out, then bolt to the front desk.
There’s no one around. I ring the bell obnoxiously. Still no one.
“Hey! Sheriff’s Office. Anyone here?” I yell out.Come on, come on.
Finally, after about five minutes, William comes out of the back room. “Hey there. What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“Zoey Krause. What room is she in?” My hands grip the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turn white.
William types in the name. “She’s in room 913. Through the door and up those stairs. She’s the last door at the end.”
I run out of the office, not even stopping to thank him. I take out my gun, remove the safety, and take a look around. The motel’s quiet, and no one is around. I listen and can’t hear anything. Quietly, I walk up the stairs, keeping my eyes peeled for anything. As I get closer to the end of the walkway, closer to room 913, I hear voices.
One of them is Zoey’s.
I stalk over next to the door and listen.
“So, if I am, then why do you care? Why do you even want me?” I hear her say softly.
“Because I love you.” The guy pauses. “I’ve always loved you. Since the moment we met, I knew you were the one. You were so sweet, so beautiful. I had to have you.”
“I don’t love you anymore, Mitch.”
I hear her yelp, and every bone in my body wants to go in there and just start shooting, but I can’t risk hurting Zoey. I cautiously peek around the corner and see he has her against the wall with one hand pulling on her hair. The other he has behind his back as he reaches for something in the waistband of his pants.
“You know, that truly is a shame. I think you’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth. Maybe we should just call this whole thing off. End it here and now.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Nicole. I really wish we could have worked this out.”
I need to move. Fast. I steadily walk in with my gun drawn. I hold my breath and slide up behind him. I see tears falling from Zoey’s eyes, which only makes me that much more determined to save her and end this. I hold up the gun to his head and cock it.
Click.
“Don’t fucking move a muscle or I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head.”
Zoey’s eyes shoot open, and she looks at me like she is trying to make sure I’m really standing here.
“Put your hands up in the air slowly. No sudden movements.”
My right hand drops to my belt to reach for my cuffs, and in that split second, Mitch swings to his left. His left arm swings around mine pushing the hand that holds the gun towards the floor. Mitch’s right hand comes down hard on my wrist as his left hand holds it, causing my hand to open and drop the gun. Once the gun drops, I kick the gun to get it away from him. My right hand curls into a fist, and I throw all I can into the side of his face. Mitch stumbles back, and that pulls us apart for a moment.
He rushes me, landing a blow to the side of my head. I bite back a curse, and he grabs my shirt and holds me to swing at me again. But instead of him landing another hit, I whip my head back before slamming my forehead into his. The blow has him faltering backwards, and he falls to the ground, dazed.
Turning to look for my gun, my eyes meet Zoey’s, and I can read the fear in them. Her lips tremble, and her eyes shed her tears. But I can’t focus on that right now; I need to get to my gun.
Before I can look for it, a force comes up behind me and knocks me into the nightstand. My head hurts, and I reach up to feel a wetness. Everything is getting smaller, darker.