The night was a thick, oppressive blanket when I finally arrived at the designated pick-up spot outside the airport. The streetlights cast long, distorted shadows, making the familiar surroundings feel alien and menacing. I pulled my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing faintly in the darkness. 11:47 PM. My flight had landed on time. Keith was supposed to be here.
I double-checked the text message I' d sent him before my flight took off from Reykjavik. 'Landing 10:30 PM PST, Terminal 5, Gate 27 pick-up.' Clear. Concise.
I tried his number. Once. Twice. Each call went straight to voicemail. His voicemails were full. Then I tried Kandice' s number, just to be sure. It also went straight to voicemail. My frustration simmered, a low, burning heat in my stomach.
Minutes bled into half an hour. Then an hour. The chilly night air began to seep through my light jacket, and a shiver ran down my spine. The last shuttle bus had left. The crowds had thinned. I was alone.
Finally, I hailed a passing taxi, the yellow beacon a welcome sight in the desolate night. The driver, a hulking man with a thick neck and eyes that seemed to miss nothing in his rearview mirror, grunted a greeting. I gave him Keith' s address.
The exhaustion of the long flight, coupled with the emotional drain of Keith' s call, began to take its toll. My head ached, a dull throb behind my eyes. I leaned against the window, trying to rest, but sleep wouldn' t come. My stomach churned, a knot of unease tightening with every mile.
Suddenly, a loud, jarring honk from the car behind us jolted me upright. My eyes flew open. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. We were no longer on the main highway. The taxi had turned onto a dimly lit, unfamiliar road, lined with abandoned warehouses and overgrown lots. Panic clawed at my throat.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, a tremor running through it.
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his lips twisting into something that wasn' t quite a smile. He said nothing.
My hand instinctively fumbled for my phone. It felt heavy and cold in my palm. My thumb flew to Keith' s contact, the emergency speed dial I had set up years ago, a relic from a time when I believed he would always be there.
The call connected. I heard muffled voices, laughter, and the distinct clinking of glasses. My breath hitched. It sounded like a party.
"Keith?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.
"Who' s this? Keith' s busy," a woman slurred. It was Kandice. Of course, it was Kandice.
"He' s celebrating!" another voice chimed in drunkenly in the background, a man' s voice. "Keith, tell them about the residency! Dr. Blackburn, folks, just got his new class of residents approved!"
"Oh, darling, it' s nothing," Keith' s voice, amplified by the phone, was sickeningly fond. "Just a little professional advancement. All thanks to my lucky charm here."
"Lucky charm!" Kandice giggled, a sound that made my skin crawl. "Keith, tell them what you promised me if I got through this rotation without incident."
"Anything, my dear, anything," he drawled, the words making my stomach clench. "Except a vacation to the Maldives. We' re working too hard for that. Maybe a spa day. Or a weekend getaway with our new residents."
"A weekend getaway!" another voice, a female resident, squealed. "Away from all the stress! Sounds like fun. Will we be taking the private jet, Dr. Blackburn?"
"Anything for my favorite team," Keith chuckled.
"Don' t you mean your favorite protégé?" The same resident joked.
"Oh, hush, you!" Kandice giggled again. "Julia, I hope you' re not listening to all this nonsense. Keith is just being silly."
My blood ran cold. She knew I was on the line. She always knew.
"Anyway," Kandice continued, her voice syrupy sweet, "I gotta go. Dr. Blackburn is about to give me a private lesson on…"
The line went dead. Kandice had hung up.
A wave of nausea washed over me. I pressed my palm against my mouth, trying to stifle the sound of my rising gorge. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the feeling away.
The driver' s eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. His face was obscured by the dim light, but I saw the cruel glint in his eyes.
"Almost home, lady?" he asked, his voice rough. "Or maybe we make a little stop first?"
My heart pounded. I tried to calm my breathing. "No," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "Just take me home. And you' re going the wrong way. The address is…"
"Extra charge for the detour, then," he interrupted, his eyes still fixed on mine. "And for the wait. Cash only."
A cold dread settled in my chest. He wasn' t taking me home. He was taking me for everything he could get.
"How much?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.
He named a price that was three times the standard fare. I didn't argue. I just pulled out my wallet, my hands trembling slightly as I counted out the bills.
He stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, a dark, deserted street bathed in the anemic glow of a distant streetlamp. My hand didn' t hesitate. I threw the money at him, opened the door, and scrambled out. I didn' t even grab my carry-on bag from the backseat. It didn' t matter. Nothing mattered but getting away.
I ran. My feet pounded on the cracked pavement, the wind whipping my hair around my face. The rain had started, a cold, biting spray that soaked my clothes instantly. I didn' t know where I was going, but I ran. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached, my chest heaving with every ragged breath.
I glanced back. The taxi' s taillights lingered for a moment, two crimson eyes watching me from the darkness, before finally turning a corner and disappearing.
My legs gave out. I stumbled, falling to my knees in a puddle, the sharp sting of the cold water doing little to numb the ache in my heart. Tears mixed with the rain on my face. I couldn' t tell the difference anymore.
My phone vibrated. A new message. From Kandice.
It was a picture. A selfie. Kandice, her face flushed with a fake blush, perched on Keith' s lap. His arm was around her waist, his head thrown back in laughter. In the background, a bottle of champagne stood half-empty on a table piled with food.
The caption read: "Someone's a little jealous, aren't they? Don't worry, Dr. Blackburn is all mine tonight! PS: He says hi!"
Another message popped up instantly. This one from Keith. "Sorry, sweetheart. Car trouble. Had to drop Kandice off first. I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't wait up."
I stared at the two messages side-by-side, the glaring contradiction burning into my brain. Car trouble. Right.
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. It was a silent laugh, swallowed by the rain, but it echoed loud and clear in the hollow chambers of my heart. The coldness inside me was deeper than the rain, sharper than the wind. Something had just broken. And this time, it felt permanent.
