63. Bull

63

Bull

My pick up isn’t the fastest thing, but I know every back road and shortcut in town. I floored the gas the whole way, screeching around bends and nearly rolling the damn thing over twice.

When I skidded to a stop outside the bus, there was no sign of Antonio’s sedan. Lily’s Toyota was still there.

The door of the bus was open. Fuck.

I crept inside, fists ready. “Lily?”

The lights were on, but there was no sign of anyone. A cupboard had been torn off the wall and jagged chunks of plates and mugs covered the floor. A drawer was open, half of its contents scattered around. The whole place was eerily still.

Then I saw the blood. A whole spray of little red drops low down on the refrigerator door. He’d got her down on the floor and…. In my mind, I saw his fist connect with her face and I wanted to throw up.

And then I saw the pool on the floor. Watery, but too yellow to be water.

She’d peed herself. The bastard had scared her or hurt her so badly she’d peed herself.

I’d been angry plenty of times in my life. But the rage that took hold at that moment wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt. All of the shit I’d gotten worked up about before just seemed so unimportant, now.

I tried dialing her phone but got the same unavailable signal I’d gotten the whole way over there. And then I saw the bits of broken plastic and circuitry on the floor. Someone had stamped it underfoot.

I stormed out of the bus and into my pick up...and then realized I had no idea where to go. They could be anywhere.

I sent him to her. I sent him right fucking to her.

Panic clawed at my mind. Should I go to the police? That would take hours of explanation. I didn’t even know who the hell Antonio was or what he wanted.

There was only one person who might be able to help.