The One He Never Held novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Black Book

We ran.

Damian took the ballroom stairs two at a time and I followed with my shoes in my hand.

We hit the side door as red taillights turned the corner at the end of the alley.

Tim was standing on the pavement with his arms hanging.

"I couldn't stop it," he said. "The driver just picked her up like a bag."

"Van," Damian said.

We followed the black car north along the lake with Tim driving too fast.

We lost it at the third red light.

At the Sorensen gate, the guard shook his head before we spoke.

"Miss Sorensen is in bed, sir. Doctor's orders."

"Let me see her."

"Mr. Sorensen says tomorrow."

Damian's phone buzzed in his hand.

He put it on speaker. Lionel's voice came out warm and sad into the dark.

"Son, I'm very disappointed. You embarrassed her in front of the whole city."

"She's asleep, and she needs rest. We'll speak when your head is clear."

"Put her on the phone."

"Good night, Damian."

The line went dead.

Damian stood still with the phone in his fist.

I touched his sleeve.

It was the first time I had done it on purpose.

He looked down at my fingers.

"We go home," I said. "We can't break down that gate tonight."

"Then what do we do?"

"We wait, and we're ready when she calls."

The flat above the café was cold and dim.

Tim made tea and lay down on the couch.

Damian sat at the kitchen table with his jacket off.

I sat across from him. Neither of us drank anything.

At ten to three, the street door downstairs rattled.

Then it banged, three times, small and desperate.

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