Without a Trace
Chapter Two
A scared laugh bubbled in Troy's throat.
He stepped inside.
The furniture in Gabriella's room had been stripped of its personality—everything that made this room hers alone, was gone. The walls were barren, and cold. Her bed was only a mattress on a frame. Pictures, clothes, clutter: gone. The very warmth had been drained. The blood rose to Troy's cheeks. This didn't make sense.
Was Gabriella trying to mess with him? Was this some type of practical joke: to get back at him for the pie gorging? Like, ha ha Troy, you thought I disappeared. A dark feeling passed over him.
He had to call her, figure this out. Ask her what in God's name was she trying to do to him? Troy fumbled with the keys on his phone, his fingers trembled too much. Why was he so scared? Gabriella would never do something crazy. And she loved him; she wouldn't leave. Would she?
Troy pressed the cool metal to his ear, waiting. There was no ring. There was no voicemail. Only a soft click and then an operator informed him this number was no longer active.
Anger. Panic. He threw the door open and raced back down the stairs. He searched the entire house for her. Every closet, every cabinet, every room. He called three more times; and thrice more he received the same message. She was simply not here.
Troy's chest weighed heavy now, finding it difficult to expand and contract like it always had. His lungs worked like a smoker's. He could hear scratches ringing in his ears, as he dizzily tried to regain his composure. He couldn't even think straight.
Where was she?
These were the only words that made sense anymore.