Vampire Games (Vampire for Hire #6)
Page 16I tried her cell phone for the tenth time.
And for the tenth time, it went straight to voicemail. Her voicemail message was the generic electronic one. I didn't even get the benefit of hearing her little voice.
I even checked once or twice to make sure I was calling the right number. Crazy, I know. It said "Tammy" right here in the "Contacts" list, the same Tammy I had called countless times since she had first gotten her cell last Christmas.
I set the phone in my lap, confirmed it was on, and realized that my brain was spinning, looping over the same things again and again. As soon as I set the phone in my lap, I wanted to pick it up again, and try her cell phone. Again.
Again and again.
Deep breaths, Sam.
Yes, I could have used Kingsley's help. Hell, I could use Fang's help, too. And Knighthorse's and Aaron King's and anyone else I'd ever come across.
Deep breaths, Sam.
She's not far. Ten-year-old girls eventually get picked up by the police -
Or picked up by other people. Scumbags. Dirt bags. Killers. Child molesters.
I ended up at home, which was about three miles from my sister's home. I parked the van at an angle in front of the house, dashed out, hurdled the chain-link fence that surrounded the property, and plunged inside my house, calling her name.
No response.
I quickly scoured every room. My hope had been that she simply returned to her own home, her own room, her own bed. Still, I called her name repeatedly, searching everywhere and anywhere, even out in the garage. I moved quickly through the house. I sped around supernaturally quickly. The rooms and walls and carpet were a blur. Pictures were a blur. My head was spinning.
I caught myself on a wall.
I gasped, chest heaving. Having a full-blown panic attack wouldn't help anyone, least of all, my daughter. I knew this. I had cautioned parents of this very thing many times in the past, when searching for their own runaways.
Deep breaths, Sam. Calm down.
Fuck calming down. I want my daughter.
Shaking, I stood straight, hands on hips, thinking hard. Or trying to think hard. Truth was, my brain still hadn't entirely kicked into gear. Night was coming, but was not here yet.
I hated what I was sometimes. Hated it. Here I needed to find my daughter, and I needed to think clearly, but I couldn't push past the fog.
Except one hour might be too late.
My phone rang. I gasped, and nearly dropped it. Kingsley. Again. The asshole. The fucker. How dare he call me when he knew I was waiting to hear news about my daughter.
I ignored it. He tried one more time. I ignored that, too, hating him more and more.
I had tried her closest friends. Sherbet was cruising the streets with his patrol officers. Spinoza was hitting any and all shops within a reasonable radius.
How much money did she have?
I thought hard, forcing my mind to go back a few days, before my trip to Vegas. Yes, I had given her and Anthony $20 each. A twenty wasn't much.
I gripped my keys and turned for the door, nodding to myself. Twenty bucks was just enough for -
My phone rang again.
It was Spinoza.
"Very good news, Sam," he said gently. "I've got someone here you might be interested in seeing."
"Oh, God," I said and sank to my knees.
"She's with me, Sam. Safe and sound. We're at the bus station in Buena Park. Do you know the one?"
I buried my face in my hands, pressing the phone against my ear. "Yes."
"We'll be here waiting."
I clicked off and let the tears flow, sitting there on my knees, my face in my hands.