Caught In The Crossfire

Chapter 3

The Next Day

By the time Max got up, made his bed, had a shower & got dress & had his breakfast. It was time to pick up Miranda.

He arrived at Miranda's apartment early, Max knocked on Miranda's door, there was no answer. 5 seconds passed, then 10 & then another 15, so he waited & thought back to the night before & tried not to wriggle around in the hallway like an overexcited teen. He knocked again, a little more sharply. No answer. He glanced down at his watch, 6:55. Another 30 or so seconds, another knock & finally he called out.

"Miranda?" Was that a muffled thump, maybe her getting out of bed, tripping over her couch, coming to the door? No, still no answer. "Hey, it's Max. You better not have gone to the station without me, Miranda, it's not even 7 yet!" Another minute passed & all was silent apart from some gulls who were waiting for their next meal. He knew how exhausted she was, knew she was probably just dead to the world in bed. He pulled out his phone & scrolled to her name but with his finger poised above the call button, a text from her came through - COULDN'T SLEEP. WENT BACK TO THE STATION. SEE YOU HERE? M X. "Miranda," he growled, frustration making his jaw clench & his muscles twitch. He would force her to sleep today, he swore to himself. funny, he texted back, I WAS LITERALLY JUST ABOUT TO CALL YOU. OR BREAK DOWN YOUR DOOR. I'M ON MY WAY.

***

He didn't feel right stepping into the station. The vague uneasiness that he'd felt & that had magnified in the car ride to the station & it had continued to get worse instead of better, until he physically felt it, an tight knot in the middle of his torso, a knot that made his stomach spasm when he looked towards Miranda's desk.

Her chair was empty. Her jacket wasn't there. Her computer was off. Stop it, he told his heart which had started stammering against his sternum. His scared blue eyes started to scanned the bullpen, before he walked to the break room, looked inside, saw it was empty. Then he turned around, scanned the bullpen again. There were only a handful of cops there, David & Alberto were among them & they were all hunched over their desks, all absorbed in whatever had drawn them to the building before 7:30.

He walked back over to her desk, rifled through a drawer, tried to understand where she could be. He moved in a circle around the bullpen, peering down hallways, pacing back to her desk. He'd been there, what, 3 minutes? 5 minutes?

"Hey," he said, trying to get David & Alberto's attention but the word came out in a strangled whisper from his too-tight throat. "Hey," he tried again, a little louder but Alberto was on the phone dealing with something important & David was bent over a stack of papers & neither one responded. "Hey," he tried once more, & it was only when every head in the bullpen whipped around to stare at him that he realized he'd yelled it. Alberto & David looked hugely annoyed. He didn't care. "Where's Miranda?"