Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

who had been staying in Abbie King's home.

If she had to call. Perhaps the police were already in the hospital. They could be seconds away.

Abbie turned to Bobby. She wanted nothing more than to stay with him, but her time was up.

For weeks, she had been struggling with her feelings. Years spent avoiding romantic entanglement had left her stunted in that area. But didn't this say it all? In her hand, Abbie clutched her most precious item. An item she had been unable to let out of her sight until Bobby came along, but that wasn't the most astonishing thing. What was incredible was that Abbie had not once considered this precious remnant of her sister upon learning of her house burning down. She had thought only of Bobby.

Looking at the book's cover, she said, "I still love you, Vi."

But she wouldn't take the book. She re-wrapped The Stand in the pillowcase and placed the bundle beside Bobby, who had proven he would keep it safe. Not that anyone would take it.

The book sorted, Abbie kissed Bobby again, this time on the cheek.

"Stay safe. Come back to me."

She rose from his bedside. She lay a hand on his arm.

"I love you, Bobby."

Then she fled the room, rushed from the hospital, and started on her journey back to Christine’s flat, and the mission to save Isabella.

Abbie made the return journey in 66 minutes. When she pulled into the parking lot, she withdrew her phone and checked the screen. Had anyone messaged while she was on the road, she most likely would have felt it, but she couldn't be sure.

No messages. No missed calls. Either Orion had yet to get in touch with Ndidi, or Ndidi had been lying about calling her.

As it was, Abbie believed Ndidi had been telling the truth, but that didn't matter. Christine probably wouldn't have let Ndidi get away with failing to call Abbie. Ana definitely wouldn't.

Abbie opened the car door and stared at the building. On the way home, her head had filled with thoughts of Bobby and her sister. Would the man she thought she loved live? Had she let her sister down by forgetting about the book?

Around and around, these considerations had raced, but no more. Abbie needed to push all that away and deal with the problem at hand.

It was a few minutes to three in the afternoon on her second day. In a few more hours, Isabella would be safe, or Abbie would have failed her forever. Until the kidnapping was resolved one way or another, Abbie had to focus.

Though thoughts of Bobby and Violet tried to pull her down, Abbie dragged herself from Ana's car and made her way towards the building. She used the keycard Christine had leant her to let herself in, and she went straight to the lifts. She travelled to Christine's floor, went to the door, knocked, then let herself in with Christine's spare key.

"I'm back."

She pushed open the door and stared into a quiet, empty hall. All three doors (living room, bathroom, bedroom) were closed.

No one responded.

"Hello?"

Abbie had left one of her stolen guns with Ana. The other remained at her waist, and she withdrew it now. Her heart was pounding. The flat was tiny. There was no way any occupants hadn't heard her. Unless they'd all decided to take a mid-afternoon siesta.

Taking a single step forward, closing the front door behind, Abbie turned the handle of the living room door. With a gentle push, she sent it swinging into the living room. Putting her shoulder to the bedroom wall, Abbie peered into the lounge.

From this angle, she could see the kitchen, the TV, the back of the sofa, the foldable chairs. There was a glass lying on its side. Orange juice had splashed across the carpet, leaving a dark stain.

At first, Abbie thought the room was empty of people.

Then she saw the feet.

Someone was lying on their front on the other side of the sofa to Abbie. The feet were still. Abbie recognised the shoes and felt her heart rate rise again.

Ana had almost died when she and Abbie had met. It was starting to look as though Abbie might be a bad omen for the younger woman.

For a brief moment, Abbie closed her eyes and prayed the lawyer wasn't dead. A little because she believed Ana was seeking redemption and wanted her to have the chance to continue on this path. A lot because she did not want to have to tell Alice Rayner that the mother had lost another child.

Abbie wanted to call out to Ana but couldn't. There were more rooms to check, and Abbie had yet to account for Christine, Ndidi or Rachel Becker.

Abbie changed her angle against the wall, moving left and right until she was sure no one else was hiding in the living room.

It was only Ana.

Ana who remained still, nothing but her feet showing beyond the end of the sofa.

Don't focus on that now. Don't focus on that now.

Abbie moved to the other side of the hall and this time grabbed the bedroom door handle, opening it in the same way she had the living room door.

The door glided towards the radiator where Christine had cuffed, bound, and gagged Rachel Becker.

Except, Rachel Becker was no longer there. Along with the gag, the binds, and the cuffs, she had vanished. Abbie could not believe Rachel had slipped free of those restraints. The Beckers were many things, but none were Harry Houdini.

Someone had released her.

Not Ana, who lay either unconscious or dead in the living room, and not Christine either.

As though dragged by an invisible force, Abbie took a step towards the bedroom. On opening the door, she had forced herself to look at the radiator, but this was not what drew the eye.

On the double bed, spread out as though she were making a snow angel, was Christine, and even she did not draw the eye.

Above the headboard, in two-foot letters, someone had scrawled the word GRASS.

Presumably lacking