Serial Story: English Breakfast, Part 5
This story is presented weekly in draft format.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
English Breakfast, Part 5
Patrick cancelled the call to Karen’s number, tossing his phone on the conference table.
“She’s not picking up. I told you, she won’t talk to me.” He braced his elbows on the table as Kane reached over and dialed her number on the conference phone. “You know she’s not going to pick up from any of our numbers. She’ll just think it’s me again.”
His boss disconnected the call and shrugged. “You’ll have to go over there then. As long as those guys know about her shop, she’s in danger, and I don’t want her getting hurt just because she helped us. Go get her, and bring her back here.”
Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. “You really think she’s going to open the door for me, much less come here? I know she’s been gone for a few months, but do you remember anything about her?”
Kane shrugged. “You know her best, and you’re the one who left her vulnerable. Find a way to get her here. Now. We don’t have any more time to waste on this.”
Patrick nodded and pushed back from the table, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he stood. Kane never did anything without a reason, and Patrick doubted keeping Karen safe was his only priority, but there was no point in pushing. He had a point about her being in danger, and that was the important thing.
Fifteen minutes later, he parked in front of Karen’s house and went to her door, moving quickly to the side and reaching for his gun when he saw the splintered wood and broken locks.
Moving slowly, he pushed the door open a fraction, sliding inside as he scanned the room. Her purse and keys were on the kitchen counter, her wallet sitting open beside them. The couch cushions were displaced and books and papers were strewn across the living room floor. Black boot marks on the hardwood were far too big for her feet, and pointed toward the hall.
Patrick followed the prints cautiously, curious that no one had bothered to clean them up. Whoever had been there must not be too worried about them being traced. He reached the bathroom and saw blood and a towel on the floor.
He searched the rest of the apartment, but as he suspected, she wasn’t there. Holstering his gun, he dialed the office. Kane himself answered.
“She’s gone,” Patrick said, looking around the living room for any possible clues. “I was too late. There’s dried blood, but not much.”
“Damn it.” Patrick heard a phone ringing in the background. “Hold on just a minute, okay?”
“Sure.” Patrick waited, studying the boot print again. It was huge, indicating someone very tall had been wearing it, but that’s all he could come up with before the line reconnected.
“Patrick?” If possible, his boss sounded more serious than he had a minute ago.
“I’m here.”
“You’d better get back here right away. The kidnappers just sent a video. It’s not pretty.”
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
English Breakfast, Part 5
Patrick cancelled the call to Karen’s number, tossing his phone on the conference table.
“She’s not picking up. I told you, she won’t talk to me.” He braced his elbows on the table as Kane reached over and dialed her number on the conference phone. “You know she’s not going to pick up from any of our numbers. She’ll just think it’s me again.”
His boss disconnected the call and shrugged. “You’ll have to go over there then. As long as those guys know about her shop, she’s in danger, and I don’t want her getting hurt just because she helped us. Go get her, and bring her back here.”
Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. “You really think she’s going to open the door for me, much less come here? I know she’s been gone for a few months, but do you remember anything about her?”
Kane shrugged. “You know her best, and you’re the one who left her vulnerable. Find a way to get her here. Now. We don’t have any more time to waste on this.”
Patrick nodded and pushed back from the table, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he stood. Kane never did anything without a reason, and Patrick doubted keeping Karen safe was his only priority, but there was no point in pushing. He had a point about her being in danger, and that was the important thing.
Fifteen minutes later, he parked in front of Karen’s house and went to her door, moving quickly to the side and reaching for his gun when he saw the splintered wood and broken locks.
Moving slowly, he pushed the door open a fraction, sliding inside as he scanned the room. Her purse and keys were on the kitchen counter, her wallet sitting open beside them. The couch cushions were displaced and books and papers were strewn across the living room floor. Black boot marks on the hardwood were far too big for her feet, and pointed toward the hall.
Patrick followed the prints cautiously, curious that no one had bothered to clean them up. Whoever had been there must not be too worried about them being traced. He reached the bathroom and saw blood and a towel on the floor.
He searched the rest of the apartment, but as he suspected, she wasn’t there. Holstering his gun, he dialed the office. Kane himself answered.
“She’s gone,” Patrick said, looking around the living room for any possible clues. “I was too late. There’s dried blood, but not much.”
“Damn it.” Patrick heard a phone ringing in the background. “Hold on just a minute, okay?”
“Sure.” Patrick waited, studying the boot print again. It was huge, indicating someone very tall had been wearing it, but that’s all he could come up with before the line reconnected.
“Patrick?” If possible, his boss sounded more serious than he had a minute ago.
“I’m here.”
“You’d better get back here right away. The kidnappers just sent a video. It’s not pretty.”
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Romantic Suspense
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