“Sunshine, I’m home! I’ve missed you,” I call out as I enter the penthouse.
It’s around six in the evening. so I’m surprised when I don’t find Cecilia in the kitchen. She’s usually cooking dinner around this time.
I go to our bedroom and bathroom but don’t find her in either. She’s not on the balcony, nor by the windows doing yoga. I go through each room, looking for her.
My heartrate increases with each empty room. By the time I’ve established that she’s not here, I’m breathing heavily as fear races through me.
I pull out my phone and check the tracking app I have on hers.
No location found
My heart stops, and my stomach lurches.
No.
No, no, no.
I push down my bile and call Bash.
“Hey, man. Now’s not a good time,” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Cecilia’s missing. She’s not at the apartment. And her phone isn’t showing a location,” I say frantically.
“Fuck!” I hear noise in the background that sounds like a window closing, then…Is he climbing a tree?After some walking and a gate creaking, a door opens. Then he climbs a flight of stairs, and I finally hear typing.
“Where are you?” I ask, confused as hell.
“I’m at home,” he says easily.
“Right. Your new house in the suburbs,” I say dumbly.
“Yeah. Now let’s focus on Cecilia. What’s her last known location?” he says.
“She was at the penthouse this morning. Then she went to the yoga studio. I wouldn’t be surprised if she stopped at a thrift store on her way home,” I tell him, holding back a shudder at the idea of wearing someone else’s clothes.
But she loves going there. Even when I’ve offered her more money than she can count to go to nice boutiques, she turns it down.
“No. I mean where is the last known location on her tracking app?” He sighs at my stupidity.
“It doesn’t say,” I explain angrily. How dare he mock me right now from his middle-class bedroom!
“Fuck. What app did you install? You did install an app, right?” he says with a sigh.
“Of course I did!” I tell him which one, and I swear I can hear his eyes roll.
“That’s a shitty app. They have ones now that’ll track the location and save it, so you can know where she’s been.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m not a computer genius like you,” I grumble, pissed.
“Whatever, I’ll track street cameras. What time was her yoga session and when did it end?” he asks.
“It ended at one fifteen p.m. It’s Sanctuary on College Drive.”
I look at my watch and note that it’s seven. She’s been missing for almost six hours.
Fear doubles down in me. Where could she be?
After too much time, Bash makes a noise.
