Free Gabriel by Naima Simone

so tired,” he whispered. He tipped his head back, stared at the ceiling, and
     wondered where the merciful God was he’d heard about all his life. “How much more
     do You expect me to take? At least tell me what to do, how to go on,” he prayed— begged —for the first time in over a year, his voice cracking.
    No answer .
    No surprise.
    He dropped his head, and tears stung his eyes. Fear surged up in his chest, and he
     blinked furiously. If he started crying, he might not ever be able to stop. He scrubbed
     his palms over his face, pressing them to his burning eye sockets before dropping
     his hands between his spread thighs.
    He needed…
    He squeezed his eyes closed, wrapped his arms around his head.
    He just… needed…
    …
    I bet that damn cell phone is in the bathroom drawer again.
    Leah grumbled a few choice words for Gabriel’s sporadic habits of answering his phone—make
     that not answering—as she unlocked the front door of his condo. She stepped inside, and silence
     greeted her. Utter, eerie silence. She frowned. Pale moonlight streamed in through
     the living room windows, providing the only illumination in the dark apartment. But
     he must be here. And it was only—she glanced down at her wrist—nine o’clock. Way too
     early for him to be in bed.
    Gabriel would probably snap at her again for abusing the “emergency key,” but she
     was willing to risk his bite. He’d been on her mind since she’d returned to Mal, Rafe,
     and Chay to find him gone. The three men had been vague about why he’d left, and since
     leaving the crime scene a couple of hours earlier, Gabriel hadn’t been answering his
     phone.
    As she passed the living room, she paused to toss her purse on the couch and not for
     the first time shook her head at how empty and soulless the room—the entire condo—remained.
     Gabriel had been staying—couldn’t really call what he did “living”—here for two years,
     and not one picture, knickknack, or even a magazine littered the table or mantelpiece.
     It was a huge difference from the home he’d bought for his family in Sudbury. A home
     frozen in time. If she walked into the large foyer today, festive decorations would
     still decorate the walls. A towering Christmas tree, its artificial branches green
     and vibrant, would still dominate the living room.
    Gabriel had abandoned the pretty house but had forbidden her or his friends to remove
     even one ornament from a branch or a single gift from under the limbs. The rooms remained
     preserved as if a husband, wife, and son would one day walk through them again.
    She continued down the condo’s hall and tried to shush the disquiet crawling in her
     belly. So damn quiet . But it didn’t mean anything. He might have a deadline. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well.
     Maybe—
    She shook her head. It had been months since she’d last swept a bottle out from under
     his bed. Or found a weapon under his pillow…
    “Damn,” she whispered and hastened down the hall toward his bedroom. The door was
     open, and she didn’t hesitate to step into the darkened room.
    What the hell?
    Pearlescent beams competed with stygian shadows for dominance. Pockets of dark enshrouded
     the corners of the room and half the mattress, which was lurching off its box spring
     like a drunken sailor. Black gave way to gray, revealing a busted lamp, the alarm
     clock, and bed covers scattered all over the floor.
    Fear flared hot and brilliant. Oh, God. Where is Gabe?
    “Tell me! God, please tell me what to do, how I’m supposed to go on.”
    The broken whisper reached her ears seconds before a shadow within the shadows moved.
     Her heart stuttered. Maybe she made a sound. Maybe the wail in her soul somehow sneaked
     its way past her constricted throat. She didn’t know.
    The hunched figure beside the tilted mattress lifted its head, and blue eyes burned
     in the darkness as if an inner fire blazed behind them like a bright SOS.
    She moved forward,