Logan sensed something was wrong the moment he stepped into the hallway. Maggie had her back to the wall, her short-term boyfriend nuzzling into her neck. She giggled and pushed him off, straightening out her dress and smoothing down a strand of hair when she saw him.
“Hey, Logan.”
“Hey.”
There was no need to stop. He had no interest in meeting the guy, and from the way he turned his back on him, it seemed the feeling was mutual. He continued down the dark, grimy corridor, making a beeline for his apartment.
It was the busted lock on Maggie’s door that stopped him.
“Is everything okay?” he called back, watching Maggie’s expression for hints of wanted help. But there was nothing. She simply nodded, then giggled again as the scrawny man returned to her neck.
Something didn’t seem right.
“What happened to your lock?” he called.
“What do you mean?” Maggie asked.
“You didn’t need to bust it. The super probably has a spare key.”
“I didn’t bust anything. We only got here a minute before you did.”
Logan froze when he felt the fear in the room. Without further hesitation, he drew his gun and pushed open the door, taking cover behind the doorframe. He heard the footsteps behind him and held out a palm to stop them.
“Jenny is in there,” Maggie said weakly.
Thinking the worst, Logan entered the apartment. He moved quickly, sweeping from room to room while covering his back. The first deadly clue was in the wheelchair. It had been upturned and was now lying vacant in the living room. Sweat formed on Logan’s brow as he feared for Jenny. He moved to the next room, desperate for a sign – any sign – that she might still be here. But as he cleared each room in the small apartment, the facts became harder to deny. The broken lock and the toppled wheelchair told him all he needed to know.
Someone had been here, and they had taken Jenny.