“Have you seen or heard from Savannah?”
She drops her pleasant expression and replaces it with annoyance.
“No, not at all,” she replies with a straight face. “You two having a rough patch? Ugh, Spencer and I are too. You and I could?—”
“Just call me if you hear from her,” I demand and start walking away toward the front lobby.
“You want me to call you?” she asks with a raised voice laced with optimism.
“If you find out where Savannah is, then yes,” I call over my shoulder.
The driver’s side door to my truck slams shut and I barely wait enough time for it to start up before throwing it in reverse and calling Gage.
The call rings out with no answer as I drive down Main Street.
Cursing, I scroll down and dial Heston and luckily, he answers on the second ring.
“Sup.”
“Where are you?”
His tone instantly changes, recognizing the urgency in my voice. “Tire shop.”
“Tripp with you?”
“Yep. Something happen?”
“We’re about to find out. Can you follow me or do I need to pick y’all up?”
“They’ve still got my truck in here. Swing by.”
He hangs up and a few minutes later I pull up next to the tire shop. Jogging out of the building, Heston and Tripp both jump in and I take off running the yellow light out of town.
I pull up Justin’s number after filling them in on the current situation.
“Hello?” his voice rings through the cab of my truck as we fly down the dirt road. Dust and gravel kick up and are probably doing a number on my truck’s paint, but it’s the least of my worries as I speed toward Savannah’s house.
“Hey. Might be nothing, but just giving you a head’s up,” I say.
“What happened?”
“I can’t get a hold of Savannah. Been since last night, and then she wasn’t at work today.”
“Want me to stop by her place?”
“We’re headed there now to check it out. I could have waited to call,” I say nervously. “But I have a weird feeling after what happened with the vandalism a while back.”
“I get it man. Damn,” he breathes out and then thinks for a moment. “Call me when you find out.”
“Thanks, Justin.”
I stab the button on the steering wheel to end the call and take the last turn before her house a little too tight. Tripp grabs the handle above the passenger side door and shoots me a look.
“Kill us before we even get there, why don’t you?” he says as he shakes his head.
“Better than jumping out of a motherfucking helicopter,” Heston mumbles from the backseat.
“There’s her car,” I say, pointing out the windshield. I feel bad tearing up the driveway by driving a little bit too fast, but I press down on the gas pedal anyway. As soon as we slow to a stop, I jump out.
