The police now know everything we know. They’ve taken Alexia’s phone along with Riley’s to try and decode some things or to trace finger prints previously found on them. I still have that number though. It’s been three days, and they’ve been holding information back from us until they can confirm anything. And since Alexia has nothing against her right now, they can’t hold her.
The guys and I have done our best even though we have no clue where to begin. Rian and Zack tell me it’s too much of a risk to repeatedly call or text that number. They say bad things could happen.
Zack sighs and slams his phone into the tan couch, letting his head fall into his free hand. He scoffs at something and it catches me and Rian’s attention. “Is something wrong?” I ask and I immediately mentally smack myself.
Zack lifts his head in a way that would make it look as if it were too heavy. It’s really shocking to see him like this. He’s always been the strongest out of all of us, both physically and mentally. Now here he is slouched over and weak looking. I purse my lips tightly together as his heavy eyes meet mine, which I assume look just the same. “I can’t trace the number.” He sighs.
“I gave up on that yesterday.” Rian sounds in.
“I don’t know where to start with anything to look for her. I’ve called home and she isn’t there either. They’re looking though.” I search my mind through the files. “Aren’t the police supposed to be doing that?”
“Yes.” Zack answers. “I think they wanted to do finger printing first, though.”
“Fucking idiots,” I hear Rian whisper under his breath as he shakes his head. A moment of silence passes before he lifts it again to break up the deafening quiet. “Has Jack gotten anywhere?”
“Other than to the store for comfort food, no.” I scoff slightly. Jack has taken this probably just as hard if not harder than me. He and Riley were best friends since they were younger. They’ve known each other longer than I’ve known either of them, which is only by two years, but still.
As of by cue, Jack comes through the door with empty hands but a clustered mind. “Jack, hey –”
“Let’s go.” He says and turns on his heels, stalking back out. The guys and I exchange a glance but follow him anyways. He leads us to a rented car and as we drive, he clutches the steering wheel, white fingers and red eyes. Rian sits in the passenger seat, demanding answers from this unusually cold Jack. The ride exceeds fifteen minutes before we realize the same car has been following us the whole time very closely.
“Jack, who’s behind us?” I demand, my voice weak and as pale as his knuckles.
“The guys.” He answers shortly.
“Tell us what the fuck is going on or we’re calling them.” Rian demands, pulling his phone from his pocket and Jack sighs heavily but keeps his mouth shut. “I’m not bluffing.”
But before Rian can pull up the number or make any more threats, the car slows down and pulls into the police station.
“What’s going on?” Vic shouts as we all get out of our cars and follow Jack. I’ve never seen him with this kind of emotion. I can’t tell if he’s angry or determined or numb, or maybe even crazy.
A growl like sound is produced in the back of Mike’s throat and he thrusts his arm to Jack and swings him around. “Tell us Jack!” Mike’s eyes are wide and wild and his mouth waters for the thirst of this oh so desperate and important information.
Jack yanks his arm away and glares at him. “They called me.”
“And?” Jaime chimes in, half frustrated that none of us were also notified.
“I don’t know –” Jack starts.
“How don’t you know?” Tony half shouts.
“All I know is they said it’s urgent so stop wasting your time questioning me and lets go question the ones who actually have a damn clue of what’s going on right now.” Jack spins on his heels and takes long strides through the door with us closely behind. The woman behind the desk recognizes us and sees the urgency and calls back to someone who then rushes through the door to my right.
His hair is dark as his pale hand waves us to follow him down the bland hallway. He leads us to an office like room with four other men in there with us. All of them are obvious police workers.
“What the hell is going on?” Zack mutters from under his breath.
“We’ve found her.” One of the men says, his hands folded neatly behind his back. My fingers and toes tingles and my stomach rolls inside of me.
“Where is she?” I ask as I jump out of my seat, tears brimming on my eyes. Vic catches his breath in his throat.
The black hair man holds up a thin finger. “We also found out what happened.” I take my seat quickly and look around at the guys. Some of them are leaning forward with interest and curiosity and some of them are looking straight ahead as if they’re deer that was caught by headlights. Tears brim on my eyes as I draw my attention back to the crow-like man. “Are you prepared for this?”
“We’re ready.”
The men rustle papers around and read over them quickly, making the small seconds in between ever so excruciating that I think I might blow up.
He sighs. “She did not simply just run off, which although it was obvious, it’s our job to prove so. Your friend, Alexia?” He looks at the other men and they nod in assurance that he has the right name. “She was part of this, and I’m sorry.”
A blonde haired man clears his throat. “We found Riley about two hours west from here in a very old, very dull house with a man.” He purses his lips. “She was found unconscious, nude, and chained to the basement floor. Her surroundings weren’t in any better condition.”
He flips through his manila folder and places a few photographs in my hands to look through and pass around to the guys. I hear his voice, I really do. But as soon as I see where My Riley was, all sense of everything is gone as I witness her most recent home.
The floor is both a combination of concrete and dirt. The dirt fills the many cracks and hiatuses that separate the chunks of concrete. There’s a good number of pillars surrounding and spot with a chain on the ground, rusted and broken up. My tears drown out any voice I could have given as I roll through the pictures. The next one shows a bruised and tattered ankle that despite my wishes to deny it, belongs to My Riley. It’s swollen and I feel my heart start to beat faster and I quickly hand off the photograph.
I groan at the next one. It’s her. It’s Riley. But it’s not her. Her beauty is smothered in her swollen cheek, bloodied lip, bruised temple, and bloodied nose. Her eyes are closed, supporting the fact that she was found unconscious. My stomach churns some more and I hand this photo off, leaving my hands empty.
“The man who worked alongside with Alexia is being charged with assault, rape, and –”
“Rape?” Vic shouts and from the corner of my eye I see him lunge from his seat. My hands ball into fists and start shaking.
“And your friend is being charged with association.” He continues on anyways, ignoring our reactions. “Now, if you need some time before we identify this man, I can have us leave the room, have some water brought to you.”
“No.” I say loudly. This is the most powerful I’ve heard my voice be in a long time. “Now.”
The man tightens his lips together into a tired, flat line as he flips through the manila folders. He gives us one last glance before placing the photograph onto the table right side down.
“The man is in custody,” He reassures as Vic lunges toward the picture, giving me no time to tell my legs to move. I doubt they would be working anyhow. I hear air hitch in Jack and Vic’s throats. Jack’s eyes are wide and his teeth are clenched, his knuckles turning snow white.
“Jack,” I call in hopes of getting the photograph passed to me next. He nods, eyes blank as he steals it from Vic and places it into my shaking hands. I flip the picture right side up to myself and come face to face with the bastard himself.
“As -”
“Ashton.” I interrupt the suited man.