Page 28 of Bourbon & Blood

“Tonight,” I said.

“Oh, gross.”

Yeah, that about summed it up.

We closed, and Dorian walked me home.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You want me to come up?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, you go home. I bet Marcus is waiting.”

“Yeah, but he can wait a few extra minutes if you need me,” he said, rolling his eyes like I was being ridiculous.

I rolled my eyes athimfor that and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“Think she’s up there?” he asked, peering up the outside of our building at where the windows to mine and Maya’s apartment were. They were dark except for a subtle golden glow around the blinds of one of them from the lamp I always left on before I left, for when I came home.

I shook my head.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Whereisshe?”

“I don’t know,” I said and I tried not to despair.

“Okay, well try to get some good sleep,” he said, and he put a hand to my shoulder, rubbing a thumb across it. I nodded.

“You, too,” I said. He waited until I had keyed my way into the lobby and the door was shut behind me before he smiled through the glass and turned to go on his way.

I turned and looked up the wooden stairway and sighed. It was going to be a long march up to my floor.

Anticipation that I tried to curb like my enthusiasm was buzzing in my chest as I keyed open the lock to our front door.

I let myself into the apartment. I failed at being a realist and went right back to my go-to optimism by calling out, “Maya? Are you here?”

Of course, I was met by nothing – just a ringing, resounding silence.

Shit.

I set my second favorite purse aside; the first having gone missing the same night as my best friend, and I tossed my keys into the bowl.

Sighing, I went into my room and toed off my shoes, moaning in relief as my feet made contact with the cooler hardwood of the apartment floor.

I went in to shower, to wash the bar off my skin and try to send some of the tension in my body down the drain.

Unfortunately, the shower was where my tired mind felt most at home, enough to worry and gnaw at the problem in front of me.

Where was my best friend?

Where was my roommate?

Where had Maya gone?

The police weren’t interested in helping, at all. I had even called the non-emergency line at precisely the twenty-four-hour mark on my break and had all but begged them to at least take a report! They wouldn’t send an officer, and they wouldn’t take the report over the phone. It was maddening. They just wanted me to go into the department the next morning and to file in person.

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