Happy Husband, Happy Life: Chapter 3
If Antonio had to smell burnt coffee any longer, he was going to be sick.
He had been sitting in the waiting room of the police station for an hour at this point. The bright lights blared down on him, the old upholstry on the seat dug into the back of his arms, and a phone rang behind the now abandoned front desk. And yet, in the past twenty minutes, nobody had returned to speak to him. They said that Quinton had to be "missing for at least twenty-four hours to take action". And even then, he was still an adult.
Antonio sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He had called Samuel a few minutes ago, and he promised to be there as soon as possible. He lived fifteen minutes away, but every minute seemed to drag by like nails on chalkboard.
With every tick of the clock on the wall, Antonio's mind began to wander. What if Quinton was hurt and couldn't move? What if the animals in the woods had already gotten to him? What if he was dead already and it was far too late? What—
The police station door practically slammed open. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood in the doorway, hi chest heaving and his left hand curled into a fist by his side. His bright blue eyes simmered with rage. Antonio's shoulders relaxed.
An officer practically ran to the front desk, her eyes wide. "Sir, can I—"
"I need to speak to an officer," the man said, his tone clipped.
The officer's hand still hovered over her holster. "Can I get your name?"
The man cleared his throat. "Samuel Duvall," he answered. "My brother Quinton is missing."
"Okay," the officer replied. her arms now resting at her side. "I'll go get the officer in charge." She dissapeared from behind the desk again, running down a hallway hidden by a locked door.
Samuel sighed and pushed his dark blonde hair back from his face. He turned to Antonio, his lips pressed in a thin forced smile.
"Hey Antonio, how are you doing?" he asked, exhaustion creeping into his voice.
Antonio stood and walked to Samuel. "How do you think?" He huffed. "I'll be better when something actually happens."
Samuel laughed humorously. "Maybe something will happen now."
True, Samuel was one of the most prominent players on the college's football team. His face was plastered on almost every advertisement for the games. It would look bad for them to ignore the fact that his brother was missing and nothing was done.
"Mom called me," Samuel muttered. "She was in tears. I think she and Dad will be here in a few hours." He pulls his phone out. "I don't know if Nat knows yet."
Antonio winces at the mention of Quinton and Samuel's younger sister. Natalie was only fourteen, so it wasn't like she was too young to understand what was going on. But at the same time, she shouldn't have to deal with something like this at her age. None of them should.
The door behind the desk opened. Samuel and Antonio stiffened as an officer walked out. He held his hand out, and Samuel took it in a firm handshake. Antonio bit down so hard on his lip that he started to taste copper. Though judging by Samuel's clenched jaw, he wasn't pleased by the sudden friendliness either.
"What's going on with my brother's case?" Samuel asked.
The officer cleared his throat. "Well, sir," the officer said, his voice creaking with hesitation. "According to policy, the person has to—"
"I know about the procedure." Samuel's voice was low, his words clipped. "But my brother wouldn't run off like that."
"Well he is an adult. So he can come and go as he pleases."
Samuel inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes slipping shut for a second. Antonio's shoulders tensed. Even the officer clenched his jaw.
"I understand that he's an adult," Samuel huffed.
The officer nodded. "Right, so you understand that we—"
"No," Samuel snapped. "I don't understand. So you're just gonna drag your feet and waste ample time to find my missing brother? Is that what I'm hearing?"
The officer's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"And if—God forbid—if my brother shows up dead, it would look terrible if people found out you shrugged your shoulders when concerns were first raised." Samuel's lips twitched in a hint of a smirk. "Who knows? Maybe I might not want to stay here. I might want to transfer to someone else."
Silence settled between the two men. Antonio's eyes widened, and Samuel looked at him with a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. Could that work? Would they actually give a damn now? Antonio's heart pounded in his chest.
The officer sighed. "Yes, Mr. Duvall. We'll send an alert out and start up a search party."
Antonio bit down on his lower lip. Finally! He muttered a small "thank you" before stepping out of the building, the cool morning air slapping him in the face. The sun glowed faintly from behind a wall of clouds. They were dark today; maybe it would rain soon. Antonio sighed before sinking onto a bench, his shoulders slumped. He buried his face in his hands as his chest began to ache.
Was Quinton okay? Wait, that was a stupid question; of course he wasn't okay. Was he hurt? Hungry? Scared? Was he even—no, don't go there. He had to be alive. Quinton was a fighter; he wouldn't be dead.
Raindrops landed on the sidewalk around his feet with a soft plop. Antonio blinked rapidly, tears welling up in his eyes. Quinton was supposed to be home by now. They were supposed to be sitting at the wobbly kitchen table eating Antonio's burnt pancakes or complaining about upcoming papers. Why couldn't they have that?
The door to the police station slammed shut. Antonio jumped and spun around to see Samuel descending the entryway stairs two at a time. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked up to Antonio, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Antonio quickly wiped the back of his wrist across his eyes.
"So?" Antonio asked, wincing internally at the slight waver in his voice. "What are they going to do?"
Samuel shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "They said they're gonna head to the frat house first. See if they can get anything there." He sniffed. "I've…uh…I've gotta call Mom and Dad now. Update them on things."
Antonio nodded stiffly. He had never interacted much with Quinton's fraternity brothers, but he'd go to the house if he needed to. He stood, his knees popping and head spinning.
"Are you going to be okay to drive?" Samuel asked. Now that he was closer, Antonio could see the redness in his eyes.
"Yeah," Antonio replied. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll see you there in a few."
Antonio doesn't remember driving to the moderately sized fraternity house. All he knew is that he was at the station one moment, and the next his car window was being knocked on by a guy with shaggy blonde hair in his eyes.
"Hey Antonio." It was strange not being called Toni by these guys.
Antonio gave a thin-lipped smile. "Hey."
The guy—who he now recognized as Tyler—hovered his hand awkwardly near Antonio's back before it dropped to his side. He nodded toward the backyard before walking away; Antonio followed.
To their credit, the guys in Quinton's fraternity gave him little flack over him being bi. Or the fact that he and Antonio were dating. But even after a year, there was still hesitance on back pats and even the occasional awkward side hug. It was stupid to think of that now, but it was still something that made Antonio's stomach clench.
A group of young men huddled around a water cooler. They spoke in mutters and whispers, stopping entirely once he and Tyler passed. Someone dug around the shrubbery separating the frat house from the woods. But for the most part, people were walking around the edge of the woods, the branches reaching out like thin fingers pulling them in.
Tyler walked up to a tall, burly man and shook his hand. He was older, maybe in his mid-to-late thirties. Bags hung under his dark blue eyes, looking as though he hadn't slept for days.
"Antonio," Tyler said "this Theo, our house director."
The older man nodded at Antonio in acknowledgment. "Nice to finally meet you. Quinton's talked a lot about you."
Antonio nodded back. Quinton had spoken a bit about Theo to him when after he came out to his fraternity brothers. Because even though they mostly seemed to be accepting, there were a few that called him derogatory names and avoided him like he had a disease. Theo had been his rock during those times, because according to Quinton, his dad didn't quite know how to help.
"Any sign of him?" Antonio asked, wincing internally because he already knew the answer.
Theo shook his head. "Nope." He cocked his head toward the woods. "Come on. The boys told me Quinton took the shortcut through there."
Despite the lack of darkness, the woods separating the fraternity houses from the apartments Antonio and Quinton called home unnerved him. It was several blocks wide and had remained largely undeveloped. Thorns snatched at Antonio's ankles as he snaked along the thin path between the trees. Leaves rustled in a soft whisper as he and a few other fraternity brothers passed. He and Quinton were never really outdoor people; Quinton didn't like all the bugs, and Antonio hated the vastness of the wild. But he could suck it up for Quinton. He may have drunkenly stumbled off the path, and then what?
"You sure he took the path through here last night?" Antonio asked, his voice pitching at the end.
Tyler nodded. "Saw him go in myself."
Why would he go in an unlit area so late? There could be bears or coyotes!
"He liked coming out here at night sometimes," Tyler continued. "Said he liked how he could see the stars a bit better."
Antonio swallowed dryly. "But why alone?"
Theo shrugged. "He was drunk. People do dumb things when they're drunk."
The three of them fell into silence, save for calling Quinton's name. But all they got in return was the hum of cicadas and the occasional chirp of birds. Antonio's head spun, looking for something anything to let him know that Quinton was okay. But what if he wasn't? What if some animal had gotten to him and the next thing he saw was Quinton's slack face or reddish-brown hair on an unmoving head? What if he fell into the creek and drowned? What—
A notification popped up on Antonio's phone. He stared at the words, his brain taking far too long to register them.
Antonio's AirPods are ready to pair with Quinton's iPhone
His heart sank to his feet. No. No, no, no! His eyes darted around the woods for a glint of light. If his phone was here, then where was he? All he could see was dead leaves and twigs!
A glint of light bounced off a small pile of green and brown leaves. Antonio's head cocked, and it glimmers again. His throat tightened as he stumbles toward the mound, ignoring the shouts of Tyler and Theo. There's no way…
But as Antonio dug away the leaves, his ears began to ring as his fears were confirmed. There, under the mix of decaying and fresh greens, lay a phone encased in a blue, translucent case. A photo of a gray tabby stared up at Antonio from the case with adoration. His breath hitched in his throat; it was Earl, Quinton's cat he had since he was fifteen. The screen was shattered, the cracks making something that looked like a spiderweb.
Antonio's breath stuttered as his hands traced the next item: a wallet. Antonio's shaking hands opened it to find the small weathered corner where the ID would go. Except Quinton's ID wasn't in it. His cards and his cash remained, but not that.
And underneath both items lay something that made a wail claw up Antonio's throat. There, caked in dirt and decayed plants, was Quinton's favorite jacket. The left elbow still had a hole in it despite him begging Quinton to patch it or get a new jacket. Quinton would pout and retort that it was his favorite and that he couldn't just part with it after so many years.
"This jacket has seen me through thick and thin," Quinton would say. "I'll toss it when it's shredded."
Antonio grit his teeth, trying his best to keep the cry in his throat. He clutched the items to his chest, tears plopping onto the ground. A small whine escaped, turning slowly into sobs.
He barely registers the sound of feet crunching under twigs until a hand lays on his shoulder. Antonio jumped, his shoulders refusing to relax even as Tyler came into his tear-filled vision.
"What'd you find?" Tyler asked.
Antonio gripped the items close to his chest like they were too precious for anyone else to see. He stood, wetness still blurring his eyes. But something burned faintly in his chest, something that said an unmistakable truth. Quinton hadn't been robbed; he'd been taken.
