Intent(66)

“You saved me,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion. “I would’ve died if you hadn’t been here when you were. What made you come up here?”

“I ended up working late and was on my way home from work and saw the flames shooting up above the roof.”

“What time is it?” Layne’s head pops up from my shoulder, and her eyes are wide with concern.

“It’s a little past midnight. Why?”

“Zoe hasn’t come home yet. Something must be wrong. Something must have happened to her,” Layne cries.

“Relax, babe. Let’s try calling her cell phone before we rush off into the night. She may have a good reason for not coming home tonight.” Although, I don’t know what reason that could be since she’s due in a just a few weeks.

Her cell rolls to voice mail repeatedly over several calls. Even though it’s well past midnight and it’s entirely possible her phone is silenced, Layne and I strike out to find her. We drive every route she could possibly take from the grocery store to the house, but there’s no sign of her car anywhere.

“I’m calling the hospital,” Layne decides. “They may not tell me any specific info, but they can at least tell me if a young, very pregnant girl has been brought in for emergency services.”

After calling our local hospital and being assured that no pregnant girls or women of any age have been brought in tonight, Layne checks the hospitals in bordering towns, but Zoe is nowhere to be found. The anxiety level inside my truck is stifling and I can’t shake this feeling of being unable to fix everything.

When it rains, it f*cking pours.

“Layne, it’s nearly three in the morning and we haven’t found her yet. She’s probably at a girlfriend’s house. Maybe they fell asleep watching a movie or something. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll start again tomorrow. I’ve already called Matt, but since she’s an adult, they officially won’t list her as a missing person for twenty-four hours. He said he’d do some checking around unofficially. He’ll call if he finds her anywhere.”

“There’s really nothing else we can do at this point. I probably won’t sleep at all tonight from worrying about her. Is this what it’s like to have kids? Do you constantly worry about River’s safety and live in fear of what she may have to face?”

“Every damn day.”



* * *



Her bloodshot eyes and quiet demeanor are dead giveaways she barely slept last night. She’s sipping her coffee, sitting at the kitchen table, and staring off into space in deep thought. I felt her get up several times, walk to the back door, and look up at the charred cabin she and Zoe currently called home. During one of her many rounds, I quietly moved in behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and did my best to comfort her.

She whispered, “They said they checked the whole house, right? Zoe wasn’t in there?”

“That’s right, babe, she wasn’t in there. They would’ve found her if she had been. For that matter, we would’ve found her when we went inside. That’s at least one scenario you don’t have to worry about.”

“I just don’t understand any of this.”

What could I say? I don’t f*cking get it either. Even in the morning light, nothing is made clearer except the damage that was done to the cabin. And what would’ve happened if I hadn’t arrived exactly when I did. One minute later, Layne could’ve been exposed to so much smoke inhalation that she would’ve gone to sleep forever.

The elephant in the room that we haven’t talked about yet is how Zoe fits into the equation. It was extremely out of character for her not to come home last night. Did she surprise the arsonist and get taken because of it? Or was she perhaps a party to it and disappeared to save herself? Her love for Layne never seemed fake or forced, and that’s what worries me the most.

A knock on the front door makes both of us jump, and Layne rushes to see who’s here, to find out if there’s any news on Zoe. She swings the door open and freezes in place for a second before I reach her.

“Zoe, where have you been? We’ve been so worried,” she cries and pulls Zoe into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” Zoe replies, returns the hug, and steps back. “I tried to call the house over and over, but there was no answer. Now I know why. What happened?”

“What happened to you? We’ve called your cell repeatedly,” Layne replies.

“I either left my cell in the house or someone stole it out of my cubbyhole in the break room at the store. All my numbers are in that phone, so I couldn’t call your cell. When I got off work, my car wouldn’t start, so I had to wait on the wrecker to have it towed,” Zoe explains.

“Who’d you call? Tommy?” I ask.

“Yeah, Tommy Anderson. His daughter Ava and I used to be good friends. She’s a couple of years older than I am, but she’s home from college for summer break. She offered to drive me home, but I couldn’t let her do that with how late it was by then. I spent the night with her, and we had a slumber party like we used to when we were kids. Spent half the night just catching up on life. I’m sorry you were worried—I did try to call you several times once I got the cabin number from information.”

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay, Zoe. You’re eighteen—you can stay at a friend’s house if you want to. After the fire, I imagined all kinds of terrible things happening to you. My imagination went a little crazy, I guess,” Layne replies.