Bullet Train to Murder | ONC novella ✓

13 | the search

The phone buzzed in Dane's hand, the persistent trill a jarring counterpoint to the tense silence clinging to the room. He snatched it up, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. "Mr. Thompson? Where in the world have you been?"

The line crackled with static before a voice, hesitant and breathless, filled the receiver. "Mr. Wade? I apologize for the delay. I was out of town for some work. Bad network, you know, couldn't get a signal."

Dane practically growled into the phone. "Might as well have thrown it off a cliff, Mr. Thompson, because Paige has gone missing." He could feel the rage simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to erupt.

"What?!" The response was immediate, a jolt of surprise momentarily replacing the practiced neutrality. "But I haven't even been to your house yesterday! Where could he have gone? Did he try to contact you?"

"He's been off the grid since yesterday evening, around four. I just had a bad feeling so I decided to cut my shift short. Came home to find the house empty." Dane's voice hitched slightly, betraying the rising panic clawing at his throat.

"Oh Goodness. This is terrible. Give me a moment, Mr. Wade. I'll be right down at your house." The urgency in Mr. Thompson's voice now seemed a touch too pronounced, a shade too theatrical.

"Despite your little story, Mr. Thompson, I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with you," Dane countered, his breath catching in his throat. "Paige wouldn't just go off with anyone. It had to be someone he knew, someone he trusted."

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken accusations. Dane could almost see Mr. Thompson on the other end, scrambling to maintain his composure, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

"Mr. Wade," Mr. Thompson finally managed, his voice regaining a semblance of control, "I understand you're worried sick, and rightfully so. But please, believe me, I have nothing to do with this. I'll be there in a flash. We'll find him together."

Dane wanted to scream, to hurl accusations, but a sliver of reason held him back. Hanging up abruptly, he tossed the phone onto the couch, the clatter echoing in the stillness.

He launched himself into a restless pace, his legs churning through the motions as his mind raced. Strangers were a rare occurrence at their doorstep. The few times they did appear, Paige was always meticulous about confirming their identity before even opening the door. The possibility of him willingly leaving with someone was slim to none.

Unless...

A horrifying possibility wormed its way into Dane's mind. Perhaps Paige had been distracted, engrossed in something, and had simply assumed the knock at the door was Mr. Thompson returning early. The thought sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him, the air suddenly thick and suffocating.

Dane's heart pounded in his chest as he considered the implications of that thought. If Paige had mistaken someone else for Mr. Thompson, it meant that whoever had taken him was someone familiar to him, someone he trusted. But who could it be? The list of people close enough to Paige to gain his trust was short, and Dane wracked his brain trying to come up with a name that fit.

Just then, the doorbell rang, shattering the oppressive silence that had settled in the room. Dane hurried to answer it, his steps echoing loudly in the hallway. Mr. Thompson stood on the doorstep, his normally composed demeanor now replaced by a look of genuine concern.

"Mr. Wade, I'm so sorry about all this," he began, but Dane cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"No time for apologies. We need to find Paige," Dane said, his voice clipped with urgency.