Genre Scribes: Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #50 — Banquet

Kelvin pushed away from the hospital’s CCTV repeater feed, in Emma’s tiny office, and gave Amy his full attention. Her arms were full of sandwiches and junk food, he assumed from the vending machine down the corridor.

“It’s all I could get, the canteen doesn’t open for another hour,” Amy said as she dumped the food on the desk.

Before he could tear the film from one of the sandwiches, his mouth was watering, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He shovelled the sandwich down in no more than four bites. “God, this is good.” It didn’t matter that the bread had formed a slight crust, or that the rest of his fuel was in chocolate bar form, this was manna to him. After days on a mountain without food, anything was going to look like a gourmet banquet.

Amy watched in mock horror as he inhaled another stale sandwich. “Try not to bite your fingers.”

“I think I’d rather…,” he trailed off. Out of the corner of his eye, Kelvin spotted Harvey on the monitors. His boss was looking around the parking lot. No, not looking, scanning. Something didn’t sit right in Kelvin’s gut, and it wasn’t the stale bread.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked. A tight mask chased all softness from her face.

The truth was he didn’t know if anything was wrong. His instincts had let him down ever since he’d gone undercover in the Consortium. Sébastien’s duplicity had gone undetected by Kelvin’s notoriously infallible instincts for more than a year. “Probably nothing.”

Amy’s features didn’t relax. “But, possibly something.” It wasn’t a question.

Kelvin cocked his head toward the door, concentrating on the barely audible footfalls heading their way. His training had taught him how to heighten his senses. The steps were sure, steady, and unmistakably Harvey’s. “Harvey,” he said to keep Amy calm as he unlocked the door and let the man in.

“She here?” Harvey demanded without any preamble. Worry etched the normally stoic man’s face.

Amy stiffened. “Emma? She left with you. Don’t you have her pickup?”

Shit shit shit. That feeling in Kelvin’s gut grew so heavy he was sure it was filled with lead.

“I dropped her at her place and went to pick her up an hour ago.” Harvey scrubbed a hand over his face. “She wasn’t there, nor in town. She isn’t answering her phone.”

Fuck. This was on Kelvin. He’d already dragged Amy into his clusterfuck of a world, and now his boss’s doctor friend, too. Though, going by Harvey’s current state, Emma meant a whole lot more to him than that.

Kelvin had to fix this, he had to hunt Sébastien down and kill that fucker.