After 2 AM
Nothing good ever happens after two in the morning.
I knew right away that sleep was over for the night. Because really, who could possibly fall back asleep after a message arrived with a low buzz against my pillow?
My eyes had barely adjusted to the blinding light of the screen when my brain finally pieced together that the jumble of words wasn’t nonsense.
It was a message.
A code.
Nearly twenty years ago, those words had been part of a made-up language two kindred spirits used to communicate during Mrs. Henderson’s classes.
Blag blug. Boopa!
Life in danger. Hurry!
Lena.
I hadn’t heard a word from her in what felt like forever.
I didn’t even know if she was alive.
That strange cry for help answered every doubt I’d had until now.
Lena was alive.
But for how long?
I called her.
It rang until I was sent to voicemail.
I called again.
And again.
By the fifth attempt, I was already getting dressed, wide awake now and trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do if she finally picked up.
She did.
For a second, I thought the call hadn’t connected and I was still waiting for her to answer.
Then I heard her voice.
Barely a whisper.
“Villa, help me.”
“What happened? Lena, where are you? I’ll come right now. Just tell me where you are.”
“The corner of Twenty-Third and Montrose Avenue. Please. Hurry.”
The call ended.
I don’t remember whether I closed my apartment door behind me.
I left Fiona dozing on the couch and prayed the stupid dog wouldn’t decide that two in the morning was the perfect time to go sniffing around outside.
For the first time in a hundred years, my old Toyota started on the first try.
It was almost as if the damn thing knew I needed to be on the other side of the city five minutes ago.
I had no idea what had happened to Lena.
The call had disconnected the second she’d given me her location.
I sped through the deserted streets, praying there wouldn’t be a patrol car anywhere along the way.
At the same time, a patrol car might have been exactly what I needed.
I had no idea what condition Lena was in.
I had no idea why she’d called me in the first place.
The last time I’d seen her had been three years earlier, completely by chance, at the club where I worked as a bartender.
She smiled when she realized I’d recognized her.
Her hair was blonde then, cut into a short, sharp bob. Her face was almost buried beneath expensive makeup, and a black silk dress clung to every curve of her body.
Lena, meanwhile, was clinging to the arm of an older man.
He looked like the kind of man who had been born into money and had never once needed to mention it. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something I couldn’t quite place.
When he noticed me looking at Lena, his hand tightened around her arm.
Then he turned her away from me and ordered drinks for both of them.
The Lena I knew would never have turned her back on me.
Not like that.
The memory from three years ago vanished as quickly as it had appeared when I realized I was already driving down Montrose Avenue.
I’d reach the intersection in seconds.
Shady part of town.
Shady people living in it.
And I had a strong feeling I’d be driving a hell of a lot faster on the way back.
I wasn’t wrong.
It didn’t take me long to spot her.
Behind a row of dumpsters lined up against the fence of a crumbling building, I caught sight of a woman’s figure.
She flinched at the sound of my car door slamming shut and immediately disappeared farther into the shadows.
She hadn’t recognized me.
She was expecting danger to come at her from every direction, like she’d forgotten a long time ago what help looked like.
“Lena,” I called softly.
There was a rustle among the garbage bags.
Then Lena crawled out toward me, almost on all fours.
“Take me.”
I froze.
“Get me out of here. Right now.”
