12:51 p.m.

 

Day Two

 

“Just a minute. Hang on, Jojo! Just one more minute!” Archer was practically screaming as he ran.

That's the thing with minutes, though. They're always longer than you think. Shorter than you realize.

He watched as Malcolm dragged Jo's limp body into a car. Shouted as Mal got behind the wheel. Archer was able to grab onto the spoiler of the car when the tires started squealing. He tried to hang on, but the vehicle whipped in a tight circle, throwing him onto the lawn. Then rocks and dirt were spit into his face as the car raced out of the driveway.

“FUCK!” he yelled, pounding his fist into the grass. “No! No, no, no, no!”

“What happened!?”

He looked up to see his father jogging across the lawn. Several men trailed behind him, all carrying semi-automatic weapons.

How is this my life? What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck have I done?

“Mal took her,” Archer panted as he climbed to his feet. “He killed the guard on duty, he choked her out, and he fucking took her.”

“I knew I should've kept that boy in counseling,” his dad sighed.

Archer glared and suddenly had an acute idea of how Jo must have felt a lot of the time. One liners and constant quips were only funny when he was doing them at someone else's expense. It wasn't so much fun when it was at his expense.

“Should've drowned him at birth,” Archer growled.

“Calm down,” his father urged. “We'll get her back. He must have some kind of plan, or he just would've killed her out here. We need to think right now – it's the best thing we can do for her. I'm gonna make some calls.”

While Santana did that, Archer walked over and picked Jo's cell phone up off the ground. The wallpaper was a picture from a party, just a couple weeks ago. A group selfie. Archer and Jo were nestled in the middle of the group, him with his arm around her, holding her close. He smiled as he remembered the moment – he'd grabbed her butt, which accounted for the surprised, open-mouthed look on her face.

Then he frowned. That was the same night he'd hidden the coke in her toilet tank. A deal earlier in the night had gone bad and he'd gone straight to her party afterwards, intending to take the coke back to his father in the morning. But then some chick had spilled red wine all over his pants and Jo had offered to wash them in her sink, before the stain could set. She'd been very insistent and he hadn't wanted her to find the drugs. So he'd taken off the pants in her bathroom, hid the coke in her toilet, then walked around the party with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I am the worst fucking person on the planet, and now she's going to die because of me. I never even got to say -

“I have our friends at the precinct looking for his license plates,” his father's voice interrupted his thoughts. “He's disabled the GPS in the car so we can't track him that way, and his phone is off, so that won't work, either. Does Jodi have her -”

Archer waved her phone, cutting off the question before it could be asked.

“No. Fuck. Fuck. Where would Mal go? Does he have an apartment in the city?” he asked, running his hand through his hair.

“Not that I know of, but it seems like he's full of surprises. He'd go somewhere private. Somewhere no one else would be – he can't exactly haul an unconscious girl all around Los Angeles without someone noticing.”

“Krakow's apartment,” Archer whispered.

“What?”

“The dead guy in the trunk,” Archer snapped, glancing down the driveway and seeing Jo's car parked outside the open gates. “His apartment – Malcolm knew him, knows where it is, knows it's empty.”

“You can't be sure – what are you doing!?” his dad demanded as Archer started running down the drive.

“Going there!”

“You don't even know if that's where he is! Just wait, he'll call at some point. Be rational!”

“I'm leaving. Krakow's apartment is on Ventura, I'll message you address,” Archer said.

“This is stupid!” his father yelled.

“Probably! But I can't just sit here. When I send that address, you better send every gun you have after me!” Archer yelled back before sliding behind the steering wheel.

“Please! Just wait a couple minutes, so we can ready a car and we can all go -”

The growl of an engine cut him off and Archer peeled out of the spot. He raced down the winding road, pushing the vehicle to its max speed.

Jo's car was old. A real piece of shit, with two-tone doors and an engine that was barely clinging to life. He was always joking with her that he was going to buy her a car someday, though secretly he'd been serious. Someday, he was gonna buy her the car of her dreams. A vintage Chevelle SS.

Someday, Jo. Someday, I'll buy you the frickin' moon – just hold on. I'm coming for you. Hold on.