# CHAPTER 2: The Empty Barstool

  Twenty minutes had passed since Annie stepped outside. Laura noticed it first, the way her eyes kept drifting to the side exit, waiting for the flash of copper hair and Annie's familiar smile. She tried to dismiss the unease creeping up her spine. People lost track of time while smoking. Conversations started. Nothing unusual about that.

  Except Annie never took this long.

  "Has anyone seen Annie?" Laura finally asked, pulling away from Daniel mid-dance.

  "Probably still having her cigarette," Daniel said, his hand lingering on her waist.

  "For twenty minutes?" Laura checked her watch again, the fluorescent numbers glowing 11:47 PM. "She went out at 11:25."

  Vanessa, dancing nearby with James, overheard. "Maybe she ran into someone she knows."

  "Or she's avoiding your conspiracy theory interrogation," James added with a smirk.

  But Laura saw the exact moment when her concern registered with them both—the slight narrowing of Vanessa's eyes, the straightening of James's shoulders.

  "I'll go check," Marcus said, already moving toward the exit.

  The four of them followed, pushing through the Friday night crowd that had grown thicker in the last half-hour. The Velvet Room was Seacliff Cove's only real bar; by midnight, it would be standing room only.

  Outside, the temperature had dropped. The fog had thickened, swallowing the streetlights into hazy orange halos. The alley beside the bar was empty except for two strangers sharing a joint near the dumpster.

  "Have you seen a woman with red hair?" James asked them, his voice automatically shifting into officer mode. "She would have come out about twenty minutes ago."

  They shook their heads. "Nobody's been out here but us for at least half an hour," one said.

  "She probably went back inside through the front," Vanessa suggested. "We might have missed each other."

  They circled the building to the main entrance, where a small line had formed. The bouncer, a mountain of a man named Hank who'd been checking IDs at The Velvet Room since they were in high school, nodded at them.

  "Hank, did Annie come back through here?" Laura asked.

  "Reynolds? Nope. Saw her go out the side about half an hour ago, but she didn't come back this way." He frowned. "Everything okay?"

  "We can't find her," Laura said, the words making the situation suddenly more real.

  "Maybe she went home," Daniel suggested, but his voice lacked conviction.

  "Without telling any of us?" Vanessa shook her head. "She wouldn't."

  "Try calling her place," Marcus suggested.

  They returned inside, and Laura headed for the payphone near the restrooms. She fed in quarters and dialed, listening to the phone ring six, seven, eight times with no answer.

  When she returned to the group, they could read the outcome on her face.

  "Let's check the alley again," James said. "More thoroughly this time."

  They went back outside, spreading out to search the narrow space. Laura's eyes scanned the ground, the shadows, not sure what she was looking for but dreading finding it all the same.

  "Here!" Vanessa's voice came from near the end of the alley. They rushed over to find her crouched near the intersection with Harbor Street, holding a silver cigarette lighter. "It's Annie's. The one I got her for her birthday last year."

  Laura took it, turning the engraved object in her palm. A delicate letter A was etched on one side. The metal was still warm.

  "She was here," Laura said. "Recently."

  James examined the ground around them, his police training evident in his methodical approach. "There's no sign of a struggle."

  "Maybe she dropped it while walking home?" Daniel suggested.

  "Annie wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," Laura insisted. "And she lives in the opposite direction."

  "Could she have gotten a ride with someone?" Marcus asked.

  "Her car's still in the lot," James said. "I checked when we went around front."

  "I don't like this," Vanessa said, rubbing her arms against the chill. Her fashionable blouse offered little protection against the coastal night air.

  "Let's keep looking," Laura said. "Spread out, check the street in both directions."

  They moved in pairs—Laura with Daniel, Vanessa with Marcus, while James, the only one with any training, methodically examined the area where the lighter had been found. For fifteen minutes, they combed the nearby blocks, calling Annie's name, checking shadows and doorways. The fog made everything more difficult, limiting visibility to just a few yards ahead.

  When they regrouped outside The Velvet Room, the worry had deepened into something more substantial.

  "I think we should report this," Laura said.

  James hesitated. "It's only been about an hour. She's an adult. The department won't consider her missing yet."

  "But with what she was saying earlier—about the town records and disappearances—" Laura began.

  "That's hardly evidence of anything," James interrupted. "Look, I'm concerned too, but there are protocols. Let me call the station and at least let them know we're looking for her. Someone might have seen something."

  He went to the payphone while the others waited, the tension growing between them.

  "This isn't like her," Vanessa said, her usual confidence faltering. "Annie doesn't just wander off."

  "Maybe she wasn't feeling well and took a taxi home," Daniel suggested.

  "Without her purse?" Laura countered. "I saw it still in the booth when we went out to look for her."

  They fell silent as James returned, his expression grim. "There's no one available to take a report right now—there's a situation at the north end of town. Sheriff Riley said to call back if she doesn't turn up in a few hours."

  "A few hours?" Laura's voice rose. "She could be anywhere by then!"

  "Laura." Daniel's hand settled on her shoulder. "James is right. Annie's probably fine. She might have run into a friend, or decided to walk to clear her head."

  "In this fog? Alone?" Laura shook her head. "And why would she leave her purse behind?"

  "I say we go to her apartment," Marcus suggested. "Maybe she had a headache or something and just wanted to get home."

  "But her car is still here," Vanessa pointed out.

  "It's only six blocks," Marcus said. "She walks all the time."

  The idea provided a direction, something concrete to do. They gathered Annie's purse from their booth—Laura noting with unease that Annie's house keys were still inside—and headed out toward the residential streets of The Heights.

  The fog had become so thick that it was difficult to see more than ten feet ahead. Streetlights created eerie spheres of illumination that they passed through like stages of a dream. The usual sounds of the town—distant foghorns, the surf against the harbor wall, even their own footsteps—seemed muffled and distorted.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Does anyone else feel like we're being watched?" Vanessa whispered, moving closer to James.

  Nobody answered, but Laura noticed how they all walked a little faster, how they kept looking over their shoulders at shadows that seemed to shift when viewed directly.

  Annie's apartment was on the second floor of a converted Victorian on Maple Street. The porch light was off, and all the windows were dark. Laura rang the bell anyway, then knocked. They waited, the silence growing heavier.

  "Maybe she's asleep," Daniel said, but his voice lacked conviction.

  Laura retrieved Annie's keys from her purse. "We should check, to be sure."

  James nodded. "I'll come with you."

  They entered the darkened apartment, James instinctively moving ahead of Laura as they navigated the familiar space. Laura flipped on lights as they went, revealing rooms that were undisturbed and empty.

  In the kitchen, a mug of coffee sat on the counter, a lipstick smudge on its rim. Laura touched it. Stone cold.

  "From this morning," she said.

  "Bedroom's empty," James called from down the hall. "No sign that she's been back here tonight."

  They returned to the others waiting anxiously on the porch.

  "Nothing," Laura said. "It doesn't look like she's been home since she left for work this morning."

  "Now can we file a report?" Vanessa asked James, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her designer purse.

  James nodded slowly. "I think we should. This isn't adding up."

  They walked to the police station, which was fortunately only a few blocks away. The fog had begun to take on a faint blue-gray tinge, a sign that dawn wasn't too far off. Laura checked her watch: 1:32 AM. It had been over two hours since Annie stepped out for that cigarette.

  The station was quiet, with just a single officer at the front desk. He looked up when they entered, recognition dawning on his face.

  "Collins," he nodded at James. "Bit early for your shift, isn't it?"

  "I'm not here on duty, Peterson. We need to report a missing person."

  Peterson's eyebrows rose. "Who's missing?"

  "Annie Reynolds," Laura stepped forward. "She disappeared from outside The Velvet Room around 11:30 tonight. We've searched the area and checked her apartment. No sign of her."

  Peterson pulled out a form and began to fill it in, his movements unhurried. "So she's been gone for about two hours?"

  "Yes," Laura said.

  "And she's what, early thirties? No history of mental health issues or substance abuse?"

  "She's thirty-two," Vanessa cut in. "And no, nothing like that."

  Peterson sighed. "Look, I understand you're concerned, but adults go missing for a few hours all the time. They meet someone, they decide to take a walk, they get caught up in something. Department policy is to wait at least 24 hours before filing an official missing persons report, unless there's evidence of foul play."

  "But—" Laura began.

  "Is there any evidence of foul play?" Peterson asked, looking at James.

  James hesitated. "No. No signs of a struggle where she was last seen. But she left behind her purse with her keys and wallet inside. And her car is still at The Velvet Room."

  Peterson made a note. "That's unusual, but not definitive. I'll log this as a welfare concern for now. Officers will keep an eye out for her on patrol, and I'll make sure Sheriff Riley sees this in the morning."

  "That's it?" Laura couldn't keep the frustration from her voice.

  "For now, yes," Peterson said, not unkindly. "Go home, get some rest. Call her friends, check other places she might have gone. Chances are she'll turn up with a simple explanation."

  As they left the station, the group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. The adrenaline that had propelled their search was fading, leaving behind exhaustion and a hollow sense of helplessness.

  "What do we do now?" Vanessa asked, her voice small.

  "We keep looking," Laura said firmly. "I'll take her apartment in case she comes home. The rest of you should get some sleep. We can meet up again in a few hours and continue searching in daylight."

  "I'll stay with you," Daniel offered.

  Laura shook her head. "No need. I have a shift at the hospital this afternoon anyway. I might as well stay up."

  They split up at the corner of Main and Elm, each heading to their respective homes with promises to check in by phone in the morning. Daniel lingered, his concern evident.

  "You sure you'll be okay alone?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," Laura assured him, though she felt anything but. "Really. Go home, get some sleep."

  He hesitated, then pulled her into a brief hug. "Call if you need anything. No matter what time."

  Laura watched him walk away, his figure quickly swallowed by the fog. Then she turned and headed back toward Annie's apartment.

  Inside, she settled on the couch, wrapping herself in the crocheted throw that Annie's grandmother had made. The apartment was eerily quiet. Laura switched on the television for company, the volume low, the flickering light casting strange shadows on the walls.

  She must have dozed off, because she awoke with a start to static on the TV screen. The station had signed off for the night. Laura reached for the knob to turn it off, but froze when she heard a sound from the kitchen.

  The soft, metallic click of a door latch.

  "Annie?" she called, hope surging. "Is that you?"

  No answer, but another sound—a drawer sliding open, then closed.

  Laura rose, moving cautiously toward the kitchen. "Annie, if that's you, you scared the hell out of us tonight."

  The kitchen was dark. Laura's hand found the light switch, and fluorescent light flooded the room.

  Empty. The drawer beside the sink was closed. The back door was locked from the inside, just as they'd left it earlier.

  Laura exhaled shakily, attributing the sounds to an old building settling, or her own dream-addled imagination. She turned to go back to the couch—

  And stopped.

  The mug of cold coffee that had been on the counter was gone.

  In its place lay Annie's silver locket, the chain broken, as if it had been torn from her neck.

  And on the refrigerator door, written in what looked horribly like lipstick the exact shade Annie had been wearing, were three words:

  THE HOLLOW AWAITS