The Acadia Killer

Chapter 34

By the time I got back to the beach house, the sun had decided to peek out, which I was thankful for. Michelle's car was in the driveway, and I knew she was as anxious to talk to me as I was to talk to her.

I rushed up the steps to the front door, an armful of court records in hand, and I was surprised when I noticed the door was open. Michelle was a diligent door locker. She never left anything open, especially with Michael Henry on the loose.

I stepped inside the house slowly, half expecting to see Michael Henry standing inside, but there was no one around.

"Michelle!" I hollered into the house, setting my things down on the kitchen table.

No answer.

Maybe she was in the shower? I knew that was a ridiculous thought, but I had to check everything just to make sure.

I ran up the stairs and looked in every room. Nothing.

"Michelle!" I yelled again, but still no answer came.

She was not in the house, but her car was there, and the door was open. Either she went outside and left the door ajar, or someone had taken her.

I ran back outside, hoping she was just out in the field where there was a small greenhouse back behind the beach house. Maybe she was just collecting some vegetables for the kitchen. I hoped. I crossed my fingers and toes. I ran as fast as I could to the greenhouse only to find it also empty.

"Michelle!" I screamed out, glancing everywhere in a circle around me. "Michelle, where are you?!"

I pulled my phone out and called her. She always answered by the second ring, but this time it kept ringing. I thought about how we shared location via Apple, and I thought I could track her that way, but then I realized I could faintly hear the phone ringing inside the house, and I fell to my knees and started to cry.

She'd been taken by Michael Henry. That was the only logical explanation. But why? He already had a fall man in jail for his killings. Why would he risk continuing? Unless he wasn't planning on killing her at all. Maybe he was just finding a way to lure me out.

I did my best to compose myself and then I jumped to my feet and ran back into the house, searching everywhere for a gun. If Michelle had brought one with her and Michael Henry got it, which was likely the case, I had to find one somewhere else. And knowing Michelle's husband, he had one stashed somewhere in the beach house for emergencies. I knew it. I just had to locate it. And I couldn't call Jim because he'd have everyone and their grandmother out searching for Michelle, and she'd end up dead because I didn't come alone.

Reaching the kitchen, I pulled out every drawer and opened every cabinet, looking behind cereal boxes and under utensil organizers. I wasn't getting anywhere.

I ran upstairs and hunted through the closets only to find nothing. I went through the bathroom drawers. Nothing. I was starting to think I was on a wild goose chase and would end up never finding anything. Finally, I thought to myself, where would I stash a pistol if I was expecting an intruder in the middle of the night? I pounced on the floor and looked under the bed. There it was, strapped to the underside of the bedframe. A Remington .45 caliber pistol with a spare magazine. Jim had helped me immensely without even knowing it.

Now I just had to figure out where the hell Michael Henry had taken Michelle. I needed a plan and a backup plan in case the first one failed.

Doing this without Blake's help was going to be an absolute nightmare. I thought about calling Ranger Carson, but what would I say? My friend has been gone for a short amount of time that doesn't meet the qualifications to say they've gone missing or been kidnapped? I didn't see anyone kidnap her so the police wouldn't assume that. I thought about all the usual questions police would ask and my answers weren't good enough. Still, I felt like I needed to tell somebody. If Blake wasn't in jail, I would be leaning on him for the answers and the plan, but now I had nobody and I was going to have to figure it out on my own. That absolutely terrified me.