Dr. Daddy's Virgin - Page 230

“Well, good morning, Mr. Zinn,” I yawned, as I reached out to pat Howard’s head. He blinked twice, then turned and hopped down off the bed and sat on the floor, staring up at me. I took a quick peek at the clock and saw that it was 4 in the morning. I looked down at Howard and sighed, “Breakfast, already?”

Howard mewed once, then turned and swished his tail as he stalked toward the kitchen. I slid out from under the warmth of my comforter and slipped into the fuzzy robe laying on the foot of my bed. It was entirely too early to be up, but I knew that it was unlikely that I’d be able to go back to sleep even if I stayed in bed. I consoled myself with the fact that I could probably get all of the History class’ papers graded before I had to leave for school.

In the kitchen, I started the coffee before I dished up Howard’s breakfast, and when I went to pick up his food bowl, I yelled, “Howard! What the hell?”

Draped across the bowl was the headless body of a mouse. Howard looked at me, then looked away as he began furiously grooming his head with one paw. The mouse was fairly small, but it had obviously met a rather gruesome end. I wasn’t sure what creeped me out more, the headless mouse or the fact that I knew that where there was one, there was likely to be others.

“Way to follow directions, buddy,” I grimaced. I lifted the small gray corpse by its tail and walked to the back door. “But seriously, Howard, this is not a good way to wake up. Next time leave it by the back door, okay?”

I shuddered as I flung the decapitated mouse into the garbage pail just outside the back door, and quickly returned to the warmth of the kitchen. Howard had hopped up onto the counter and watched intently as I scooped out his breakfast kibble and mixed it with half a can of wet food.

“I’m surprised you’re still hungry,” I said, as I set the bowl down in front of him and watched as he dived in. I poured myself a mug of coffee and took it into the living room, where I sat on the couch, flipped open the file of History papers I’d left on the coffee table, and picked up where I’d left off.

I’d worked my way through half of them by the time my alarm went off, and when I went to shut it off, I remembered that I hadn’t checked my phone. I pulled it off the charger and looked at the screen. There was an Amber Alert with Nina’s name on it and three calls from Blake, but only one message. I listened to it, and before it was half over, I was dialing Blake’s number.

“Hello?” Blake answered groggily.

“Blake, it’s Emily,” I said breathlessly. “What the hell’s going on? Did you find Nina?”

“Oh, Em, hey,” he said, as he tried to get his bearings. “No, I drove around for a couple of hours, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

“I’m assuming the police issued the Amber Alert,” I said.

“Yeah, they said it’s unlikely she’s been kidnapped, but the alert would mean that people would be actively looking for her,” he said.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer my phone,” I said. “I should have left it on.”

“How were you supposed to know that Nina would run away?” he sighed.

“Do you really think she ran away?” I asked.

“You saw how pissed she was at me last night before we left,” he replied. “She can be a hothead when she’s mad.”

“Indeed,” I mused, as I tried to think of all the places where high school kids hung out. “Did you try the back of the Mall?”

“Yep, and the arcade, that dump of a convenience store over on Lincoln, and the high school parking lot,” he said wearily. “No luck.”

“What about her phone? Did you try to find it?” I asked.

“The cops did a search of her number and tried to use the Find My Phone feature, but apparently she turned it off,” he said.

“You want me to come over?” I asked.

“Nah, you’ve got school, and I’ve got to get to the station,” he said.

“Blake, your daughter is missing,” I said softly. “I’m sure they’d give you a day off, if you asked.”

“So I can do what? Sit around the house and be pissed at myself for going out last night and pissed at her for being so goddamn irresponsible?” he shouted into the phone. “No thanks!”

“You don’t have to yell at me,” I said quietly. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

I waited for him to speak again, but as the silence lengthened, I began to wonder if he’d hung up.

“Blake?”

“I can’t believe I’m such an idiot,” he said. I could hear the emotion in his voice. “I should have stayed home with her and talked it out.”

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