Lance should have washed his hands of April, but her texts and calls about Tyson had riled him, and he’d spent two hours sitting in the hotel hallway, trying to talk her into staying away from him. Then the guy had shown up at her house and April told Lance she’d call him back.
Sick, he’d gone back into the hotel room and tried to sleep, putting his phone on silent, but thoughts of her smoking dope with Tyson, and maybe doing worse, along with all the things that had happened tonight, kept him awake like he’d guzzled Red Bull.
Then his phone vibrated, and he went into the bathroom and snapped up the call. “April?” he whispered so he wouldn’t wake his family.
He heard a yelped scream, then sobbing broken by a bad connection. “Lance . . . tower . . . please help!”
Lance slipped back into the hallway, careful to close the door quietly behind him. “April? April, I can’t hear you!”
The phone call cut out; he’d lost the connection. His mind raced. If Tyson was taking her back to the tower, she could be in real danger. He had to rescue her from the insanity of this doper who wouldn’t leave her alone. Maybe now she’d listen. Maybe she’d never use drugs again.
He slipped back in and got his mother’s keys off the dresser. Neither his mother nor Emily woke up as he went out.
From the parking lot, he texted April — On my way.
He hoped the threat of his coming would settle Tyson down.
Lance prayed as he drove.