The drive to Becky’s apartment was a blur of panicked thoughts and worst-case scenarios. I saw Loca’s face in every shadow, his voice whispering in the hum of the engine.
I practically fell through Becky’s door when she opened it. The sight of her, usually so vibrant and put-together, now pale and wide-eyed in her yoga pants and a messy bun, shattered the last of my composure.
“She’s gone, Becky,” I sobbed, the tears I’d been holding back finally breaking free. “She’s gone, and I told you! I told you this would happen!” I collapsed onto her sofa, burying my face in my hands. My body was wracked with ugly cries.
“I warned you! I said he would kill her if he found out! He must have… he must have known the second she walked in. Maybe he… maybe he…”
I couldn’t say the words. My mind conju
