Marcus

"Fuck," Evie exclaims, her voice laced with frustration. "Marcus, what the hell are we going to do? How are we going to find Melanie?"

I stab my fingers through my hair, gripping at the strands in frustration. "I don't know," I admit, despair coursing through me like a poison. "Where is Melanie?"

"Hang on," Evie interjects suddenly, her voice tense. "Daniel is calling me."

Despair morphs into anger in an instant. "If he's touched even a hair of Melanie's..." I begin, my voice low and dangerous.

But Evie cuts me off before I can finish my threat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she says quickly. "He'll regret it. Call you in a sec."

With that, she hangs up, leaving me staring at the blank screen of my phone, frustration boiling inside me like a cauldron of rage. Without hesitation, I start calling Melanie's phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Her phone is off.

Frustration turns to desperation as I scroll through my contacts, my thumb hovering over Mallory's number. Should I call her? Let her know that I can't find Melanie? No, I shake my head fiercely. I shouldn't worry Mallory yet. But maybe she could tell me where to look for her?

Just as I'm about to give in to the urge to dial her number, my phone rings. It's Evie. I answer immediately.

"Marcus," Evie's voice comes through the line, breathless and urgent. "Melanie sent him a text last night," she explains, her words heavy with significance. "Telling him to not bother her anymore. And he hasn't been able to reach out to her ever since."

I scoff, disbelief mingling with anger. "Do you believe him?" I demand, my voice tinged with bitterness.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Evie admits reluctantly. "But why would he call?"

"To throw us off his tracks," I snap, frustration seeping into every word. "Isn't it convenient that he called to let you know he can't reach out to Melanie after she told him she doesn't want anything to do with him?"

"What are you saying, Marcus?" Evie asks, her tone tinged with disbelief. "Do you think Daniel knows where Melanie is?"

"I wouldn't put it past Daniel," I say grimly, my grip tightening on the phone. "Maybe he's holding Melanie somewhere."

Evie's response is immediate, her tone filled with disgust. "No," she retorts firmly. "Daniel is a manipulative piece of shit, but he's also a coward. He wouldn't do something like that."

I grunt in response, my hope dwindling with each passing second. "I hope you're right," I mutter under my breath.

"I am," she insists, her tone firm. "But something must have happened with the therapist. Something really unnerving for Melanie to send that message to Daniel and disappear like that."

I scoff, skepticism creeping into my voice. "If she ever sent it."

"Fair point," Evie concedes, her voice softening. "But something must have happened with the therapist, not Daniel."

"Do you have the therapist's number?" I ask suddenly, a spark of hope igniting within me.

"No," Evie replies, her voice tinged with frustration. "I don't."

"Okay, that's okay," I reassure Evie, my voice strained with determination. "We'll find a way to get in touch with Melanie."

"Okay," Evie replies, her voice breaking slightly.

"Hey, it's okay," I say softly, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. "We'll find her."

"I should have gone with Melanie last night," Evie says, her voice filled with regret. "Or listened to you when you said I should call her again."

I pinch my eyes closed, trying to push back the surge of frustration. "If Melanie didn't want to talk, she probably wouldn't have answered even if you insisted," I say, trying to ease Evie's guilt. "And seeing Daniel's therapist seemed like something Melanie should have done on her own. It's not your fault."

"Thank you for saying that," Evie responds, her voice grateful but still tinged with guilt.

"I will find Melanie," I declare, determination seeping into my voice. Though in truth, I don't know if I'm trying to convince Evie or myself.

"Maybe we should go to the bar where Melanie met the therapist," Evie suggests suddenly. "Maybe someone there can help us."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "Wait, what?" I ask, taken aback. "Melanie met Daniel's therapist at a bar?"

"Yeah," Evie confirms.

"We did," Evie admits, her voice heavy with regret. "But it was the bar Melanie went to that night to get Daniel and drive him home, so we thought it held some significance."

I curse under my breath, frustration boiling inside me. "Which bar?" I demand.

"The Juke Joint," Evie replies, her voice tense.

"Okay," I say, trying to stay calm. "I'll meet you there when it opens. For now, I'll stay here, waiting for Melanie."

"Okay," Evie says, her voice determined. "I'll see if Melanie is at her parents' house."

"Good idea," I respond, relief flooding through me. Maybe she is just at her parents' place. Makes sense. "Keep me updated."

"Sure, you too," Evie replies before we hang up.

I sit down on the floor, my back leaning against Melanie's front door. I have a few hours ahead of me until the Juke Joint opens. Closing my eyes, I try to calm the racing thoughts in my mind. Where could Melanie be?

Minutes stretch into hours, but there's still no sign of Melanie. My phone buzzes, and I quickly check the message from Evie. "Melanie isn't at her parents' house," it reads, my heart tightening in my chest. I feel so damn helpless.

Just as the time ticks closer to the opening of the Juke Joint, I stand up and dust myself off. With determination fueling my steps, I make my way to the elevator and ride it downstairs. Exiting the building, I walk to my bike and mount it, the engine roaring to life beneath me as I ride towards the Juke Joint.

As I park my bike outside and dismount, I hear someone calling, "Marcus!" I turn around and see Evie running towards me.

Evie stops in front of me, her expression anxious. "Any sign of Melanie?" she asks, her voice filled with worry.

I shake my head, a sinking feeling in my chest. "No," I reply, my voice heavy with disappointment.

Evie looks towards the bar and then back at me. "Ready to go in?" she asks, her tone determined.

I nod, steeling myself for what we might find inside. "Yes," I say, my voice steady despite the unease gnawing at me.

Together, we walk into the bar. Inside, there's hardly anyone present, just the bartender and a waitress. We make our way towards the waitress, and I pull up a photo of Melanie on my phone.

"Excuse me," I say, catching the waitress's attention. "Did you see this girl here last night?"

The waitress shakes her head apologetically. "Sorry, I wasn't working last night," she says. "But the bartender was. You should ask him."

Nodding in understanding, Evie and I make our way over to the bartender. I show him the picture of Melanie and ask, "Did you see her here tonight?"

The bartender's expression darkens, concern flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, I did," he confirms. "What's wrong? Did something happen to her?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Evie responds, her voice tense. "She hasn't been in touch since last night when she met the therapist of a... friend."

The bartender lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "She wasn't meeting a therapist last night," he says with certainty.

Evie and I exchange puzzled glances. "What do you mean?" I ask, my confusion growing.

The bartender leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The girl you're looking for met with some woman last night, but she definitely wasn't a therapist. If she was a therapist, I'm a physicist."

"Why do you say that?" Evie asks the bartender, her brow furrowing with concern.

The bartender chuckles, shaking his head. "I reckon therapists don't wear 9-inch heels and dresses that barely cover their asses when they meet someone for work," he explains with a wry smile.

My eyes widen, and I turn to Evie, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. "Who was that woman?" I ask urgently.

"I don't know," Evie admits, her voice tinged with concern.

I turn back to the bartender, my mind racing with questions. "Did they leave together?" I ask, hoping for some clarity.

The bartender shakes his head. "No," he replies. "Your girl left a lot earlier than the woman she was meeting."

"Are you sure?" Evie interjects, desperation evident in her voice.

The bartender nods confidently. "I'm sure. I talked to her as she was leaving. You see, your girl was here last week, picking up some scum who pretended he was drunk. I wanted to let her know that he was faking it."

Instantly angered, I exclaim, "That piece of shit!"

"Thank you," Evie says to the bartender, her voice tight with emotion.

The bartender nods. "No problem. I hope you find her soon," he says sincerely.

"Thank you," I reply, my gratitude genuine, despite the fury that consumes my insides.

Evie tugs at my arm, urging me to leave the bar. As we step outside, my mind is overwhelmed with questions. Didn't Melanie actually meet Daniel's therapist? Why not? And who was that woman? Did something else happen, or did Melanie just disappear after she learned that Daniel wasn't drunk that night?

I look at Evie, whose eyes are welling up with tears. She asks, "Now what?"