The Prison Project [-Editing-]

12: Trey

Yep.

This one will definitely be edited later.

But for now, here's Chapter 12.

12: Trey

“So, uh,” I start anxiously, “do you have a plan for finding them? Because I don’t. At all.”

Howie and I have been driving for about two hours now, the desert still never-ending. The sky is beginning to get darker as the sun sinks lower and lower behind the craggy mountains that outline the horizon.

“Well, it’s not much, but I was thinking we should find a library, read up on recent kidnappings and see if we can find a pattern anywhere,” Howie replies.

I nod. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“I hope it is,” Howie says sadly, obviously missing his little brother.

I smile sympathetically at him. ”Believe me when I say that I know how you feel.”

Howie glances over to me and smiles back. And then, we sit in silence. Not an awkward silence, like every other moment of silence in my life, but a comfortable silence. A calming quiet, the kind that makes you feel understood; safe. I’ve never felt like that with anyone besides Linley. I’m just glad I have someone here with me who understands what I’m going through, and wants to help me get through it as much as I want to help him get through it.

Eventually, the sun sinks behind the mountains, leaving Howie and I in darkness. I decide to rest my head against the window and try to get some sleep. I would ask Howie if he would like me to take a turn driving, but since he saw me destroy Linley’s truck, I don’t believe he will be letting me take control of his vehicle any time soon. I close my eyes and drift into a peaceful sleep. But unfortunately, it does not last.

“Hey, Trey,” Howie says, shaking me. “We’re here.”

I mumble and sit up blearily. “And, where is here, exactly?”

He examines his surroundings, looking as if he has already forgotten what town we have just pulled into. “We’re in Reno,” he finally finishes. I nod and climb out of the car, gathering my backpack up in my arms as I do so. Howie locks the car behind us as we proceed toward a motel. We check in and get to our room, the both of us collapsing onto opposite beds as soon as we see them.

“We’ll go to the library tomorrow,” Howie says, yawning. “But for now, I think we need to get some sleep.”

I nod in agreement and curl up onto the bed, falling asleep within seconds, not even bothering to get ready for bed, too tired to do anything reasonable at this point.

• • •

When I wake the next morning, Howie is still sleeping soundly. And so, I decide to get up and get dressed, maybe grab some breakfast from the café next door. Yawning, I pull on some clothes and tennis shoes, then grab the spare room key and leave Howie to his sleep. Cold, morning air hits me as I step out into the faint sunlight. Upon entering the café, I choose a seat by the window and order some coffee. After a few minutes, a waitress brings it out to me. Just as I take my first sip, Howie steps into the building, his hair rumpled and his clothes wrinkled. He spots me, smiles sleepily, and comes over to me.

“Morning,” he yawns, sinking into the seat across from me.

“Morning,” I reply, perking up a little as the first few drops of coffee make their way into my system.

“Sleep okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. So, the library, right?”

He nods. “Hope you like reading, cause we’re going to be there all day. All day every day for the next few weeks, if needed.”

“Anything to find them.”

He smiles sadly and looks down at the table. “Exactly.”

He orders a coffee to go, and we depart from the café, heading straight for the library. When we enter, we approach the reception desk and get all the information that we can on where to look for kidnapping records. We end up sitting at the back of the library, me piled with books on recent crimes and Howie sitting at one of the computers.

“Let the researching commence,” he says brightly before turning towards the computer and typing furiously. I laugh a little to myself at his eagerness before grabbing the first book and flipping open to the first page.

Howie and I spend hours upon hours sitting in the library and researching. After the fifth book, I begin to feel a little hopeless. I look up and note that it is already three in the afternoon. We’ve skipped lunch and the library will be closing in just a few short hours. But I won’t allow myself to give up or get discouraged. Just think, I think to myself. This is for Linley. You’re doing to this to save Linley. And with that one thought, I pick up the next book and begin to read, a newfound fire blazing within me.

As I flip to the first page, Howie flinches a little in his seat.

“Whoa, you okay there, Howie?” I ask.

He stares at the computer screen, mouth slightly agape.

“Trey,” he says quietly. “I think I found them.”

I immediately jump to my feet and look to the computer screen.

“Look here,” he says, pointing to an article that he was reading. “It says that the woman was taken by three people in black suits, who stuffed her into a body bag. One of the witnesses states that several members of their party were injected with something that made them pass out.”

“It has to be them,” I say. “Three of them? In black suits? A body bag? An injection? All signs point to them!”

“The last sighting of them was two weeks ago, in Arizona,” Howie says, reading a little further down. As he’s scrolling, there is a fuzzy picture of them, their figures blurred, but still obviously them, nonetheless. Howie and I look at each other.

“Arizona?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

He nods. “Most definitely.”