Lost Like Me

Lost Like Me Excerpt (from Chapter 2)

Danny Anderson

At 2:15 a.m., Danny Anderson picks up the emergency key under the flowerpot next to the front door and enters his girlfriend’s house, his hand shaking as he turns the key. Danny’s worried about Julia. He’s been trying to call for the last hour but can’t get through.

Why isn’t she answering?

Upon entering the house, Danny notices a light emanating from down the hall. A sense of relief washes over him. Walking toward her room, Danny assumes he’ll find Julia in bed, exhausted from her late night out with the girls.

But that’s not what greets him when he walks through her doorway.

The lamp on the nightstand sheds light on a half-empty mug of cocoa and a half-eaten Twinkie. Fuzzy slip-on slippers lie tossed on the floor in front of the table. The clock radio, on the other nightstand, is tuned to the local station, the volume on low. On the bed, the pillows sit propped up and the covers thrown down, with a closed mystery paperback novel on top of the sheets. The chair next to the bed holds a patterned sundress and a white sweater folded over the back, along with a canvas purse. It looks as though she’s gotten up to use the bathroom and will be back any minute.

The bathroom door, though, stands partly open, with the lights off. Danny flips the switch, wondering if she’s in the near dark, sick to her stomach after a night out drinking. A used bath towel hangs over the edge of the tub. The counter holds a curling iron and hairbrush, along with assorted cosmetics. But Julia’s not there. She’s not in the spare bedroom, either.

“Julia! Where are you?” he shouts, wandering through the kitchen and living area, although it’s obvious she’s not there. “Julia!” Considering she may have decided to throw in a load of laundry when she got home, Danny descends the wooden steps to the unfinished basement and strides across the cement floor. Something brushes against his legs, startling him. The house isn’t empty.

Julia’s cat, Cleo, is home. Alone. Danny wonders what the hell happened to Julia. Her car sits parked in the driveway, but she’s obviously not in the house.

Maybe she stepped out for some reason.

Danny exits through the front door and jogs up and down the road, looking for some sign of Julia. She knows a few of her neighbors, but it’s too late to be visiting anyone. Besides, there are no lights on at any of the houses.

I should have called the cops when she told me someone was following her the past few weeks.

Julia had repeatedly said she felt someone watching her. She didn’t provide any evidence to prove her suspicions. But now, her abruptly abandoned house, along with the possibility of a stalker, confirms her fears were justified.

Danny goes over the scenario in his mind several times before picking up the phone and dialing 911 to report Julia Brenner missing. He prays they’ll believe him when he insists something has happened to her, although he’s not sure the provincial police in Lake Kipling will respond immediately to a report of a 24-year-old woman missing after a Saturday night out on the town with her friends. But he hopes the bizarre circumstances surrounding her disappearance will make the cops take him seriously.

“It looks like she’s been snatched right out of bed,” he exclaims, his voice quavering. The story he tells the dispatcher convinces her to send a couple of officers to 66 Clapton Ave. in the nearby village of West Kipling just after three o’clock in the morning.

* * *

Officer Aaron Parker

A disheveled young guy with dirty blond hair, in his mid to late twenties, greets the uniformed officers.

“You’ve gotta find her. Before it’s too late. Please…” The anguish on his face seems genuine, but there’s a nervousness just below the surface.

“We’re here to help,” Officer Logan Murphy assures him, indicating Danny should take a seat on the couch. “We need to ask a few questions about your girlfriend and when she was last seen.”

“No. You need to look for her right away,” Danny insists, remaining rooted at the front entrance. “She was just here. The cocoa wasn’t completely cold. We can’t waste time.”

The two officers exchange a look, trying to determine exactly what’s going on. “What do you mean, she was just here?” Officer Murphy asks. “Were you with her?” He’s likely thinking this could be a domestic situation that got out of control. Has he hurt her? Did she run away from him?

“No, but she was here,” Danny persists. “Her car’s in the driveway. And she should be in her room. But she’s not.”

Aaron Parker’s gaze follows Danny’s eyes to the hallway. A soft light casts a glow. For a moment, he’s afraid of what they might find.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Logan Murphy moves past Danny into the living area.

“Friday night.”

“Not tonight?” Aaron Parker clarifies. “Can we have a look around?”

“No.” But when he raises his eyebrows, Danny adds, “I mean, no, I didn’t see her tonight, and yes, you should look in her room. But we need to hurry and find her before she gets any farther away.”

Officer Murphy follows his colleague down the hall to the open bedroom, and they take in the scene. “Have you checked the whole house? Could she be in the basement?”

When Danny confirms that he’s been through the house several times, Officer Parker asks, “And were the doors locked? What about the windows?”

“Yes, everything was locked up tight, with the curtains and blinds closed. Are you going to go look for her?” Danny appears increasingly agitated with each passing minute; sweat is forming on his brow.

“What about her cell phone?”

“No. She couldn’t find her phone Friday night. I thought maybe she’d forgotten it at work. So I called her home number, but I couldn’t get her. It rang busy the first couple of times, then no answer.”

“Can you think of any place in the village she might be?” Aaron Parker leads the way back to the front door. “Anyone she might be with?”

“No, there’s nowhere for her to go. Her friends and family live in Lake Kipling.” Danny’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two officers, as though hoping they’ll come up with a reasonable explanation for Julia’s absence.