Page 134 of Wasted

He grabbed it. Would Victoria be texting him to apologize? Maybe she’d changed?—

This is Lawrence Massey.

What in the world? How did Massey get Cillian’s number?

Another text came through on the heels of the first.

I’ve got Sydney. If you want to see her alive, come alone to 1518 Phoenix Boulevard. No cops or she’s dead. You’ve got twenty minutes before I kill her.

Cillian clenched his jaw as he stared at the message. Hadn’t seen that coming. Massey seemed much too cowardly to try anything like a kidnapping or abduction. And luring Cillian there? Did Massey hope to shut him up? Permanently?

There was something weird about it. Something didn’t fit.

Why would a guy so afraid people would find out he’d impregnated a minor suddenly be brave enough to commit murder? Desperation made people do crazy things, but…

Cillian could figure it out later. Right now, the clock was ticking.

Twenty minutes to drive all the way to Phoenix Boulevard would be impossible in this weather. But he had to try.

He grabbed his jacket off the sofa where he’d tossed it and hurried at a jog out of the apartment to the exit stairs at the end of the hall. It’d be faster to dash down two flights of stairs to the parking garage than wait for the sluggish elevator.

He pushed through the heavy steel door to the stairs and paused a split-second to dial the police station on his phone. He tapped the button for speaker and gripped the phone in his hand as he ran down the stairs.

No cops? Massey had to think Cillian was an idiot. The police were the only chance of reaching Sydney and Massey in time and with weapons.

“Gealanden Police Dep?—"

“Put me through to Lieutenant Willis. He knows me, Cillian Doherty. It’s an emergency.”

“One moment please.”

Grating electronic music signaled the woman had put him on hold.

He reached the bottom of the second flight and slammed the door open to the parking garage. At least he wouldn’t have to dig out his jeep from accumulating snow.

He ran to his stall where he’d parked the jeep, brake line repaired just in time.

The music finally stopped as he reached the driver’s door.

“Lieutenant Willis here.”

Fire seared the back of Cillian’s head.

He slowly blinked. Why couldn’t he see anything but darkness?

He shut his eyes, then opened them again. Narrowed them, peering into the darkness.

This couldn’t be the parking garage, and he was lying down on something. Had he been knocked out, and he was just waking up now?

He lifted his head.

A bolt of pain surged through his skull, answering his question.

Massey must have been waiting for him in the garage and jumped him from behind. The guy was a lot smarter than Cillian had thought.

What was that sound? Like a moaning or a whirring. The floor beneath him was firm but not hard or cold. And it was vibrating.

Was he in a vehicle? The back of a truck or…