Page 70 of Fake Love

“My wife just texted me, I guess there was an active shooter alert over at the Mission District,” he states, typing something out on his phone.

The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand up when he says mission district.

That’s where Jen said she was going to go.

“It just happened?” I ask, going on high alert now.

Aaron shakes his head a bit. “It started about forty minutes ago.”

Forty minutes. Jen texted me almost an hour ago.

I can already feel my heart start to beat faster. “Where in the Mission District?”

I’m trying to think of all the scenarios that he might say, but none of them are any good. I don’t even know the city all that well yet, so I don’t know if this is going on a few blocks away or miles away. Jen could be miles away from where the shooting happened or it could have been where she is.

Aaron is silent as he types away, possibly getting information from his wife. When another ping sounds out, he answers my question.

“At a street festival.”

My bag drops to the floor and I frantically start calling Jen’s phone.

“What’s wrong, Bauer?” Ben asks, concerned all over his face.

“Jen told me this morning that she and a few friends were going to a street festival. I offered her a ride but she said she was just going to take the MUNI to the mission district.” Her phone goes straight to voicemail, so I hang up and dial again. “Now she’s not fucking answering.”

My chest feels constricted, like I can’t get enough air into my lungs.

Not only is my chest, but my head feels like it’s spinning.

Why the fuck won’t she answer her phone?

“Get in the truck,” Ben orders, causing my head to spend a bit more.

“What?”

“Get in the fucking truck, Bauer. We’re going to drive over there and see if we can find Jen,” He rounds the vehicle and I just continue to stand there completely still trying to find my bearings. “Now, Maddox.”

I take a few breaths before I do what he says. I get in the passenger seat, Aaron getting in the back, all the while Ben raves up the truck and speeds out of the parking lot.

My phone is never far away from my ear as I dial Jen’s number repeatedly. I call her close to twenty times in a span of five minutes and not one of those twenty calls gets picked up.

I’m about to chuck the phone out the window when I decided to call someone that might pick up.

Maybe Jen and her friends changed plans. Maybe they left the festival a few minutes after Jen texted me and went to her house. That could be right?

“Hello?” Selena answers the phone call after the second ring.

Jen had called me from her phone a few days ago while they were hanging out. So I save the number in my contacts in case of emergencies.

Like today.

“Selena, it’s Maddox. Is Jen with you?” I ask, my voice coming out uneven and full of panic.

“No, I thought that she was going to some festival with some friends.”

“Fuck.” I pitch the bridge of my nose.

“Why? What’s going on?”

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