Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us #1) - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,132

with a receptionist. He asked for Tabitha Mathews.

He was informed that they had no patients, past or present, by that name.

Zevris numbly thanked the woman, lowered the phone, and ended the call.

That ice, heavy and unforgiving, was still inside him, permeating him, but his heartbeat only quickened. A terrifying notion lanced through his mind. Had she left him? Had she bided her time until the right opportunity had arisen so she could escape? He’d forced her into this, after all, and—

No. He immediately dismissed that thought for what it was—a symptom of panic. Tabitha was his lifemate. His trust in her was total, his love for her was true, and he knew that her love for him was real. She hadn’t run away.

There were other clinics in the area. She’d likely gone to a different one because of preference, or maybe because of something to do with the complex, convoluted health insurance system that only granted her a choice of certain approved providers.

He called the next clinic on the list and was given a similar answer as the first.

Releasing a strained breath through his nostrils, he tried calling Tabitha again. Her cheery tone on her prerecorded voicemail greeting was equal parts endearing and torturous now. It was a struggle not to crush the phone in his fist.

Zevris cycled through all the walk-in clinics within a ten-mile radius. A couple had Tabitha on record as a patient, but the hope that news had inspired was short-lived—both clinics also confirmed that she’d not been in today.

As his heart took on thunderous volume, Zevris engaged the phone-locating application and searched for Tabitha’s phone. Even when he took the risk and used his neural transceiver to hack the program and bypass its security, it could not discern the location of her phone. That failure only further supported that her phone wasn’t powered on.

Forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths, he threw on his boots, laced them, and stepped out through the front door. Tabitha’s car was neither in his driveway nor hers, suggesting she was not near. But he had to keep a clear head, had to cover all the possibilities, even those that seemed unlikely. Battling the urge to sprint, he walked to the front door of Tabitha’s residence and rang the doorbell.

As he waited—knowing she wasn’t there—he brought up a search for nearby hospitals and emergency rooms. He rang the bell again as he called the first place listed.

There was still no answer at the door, and the receptionist placed him on hold right after answering. He’d never heard music more obnoxious than that which played while he returned to his dwelling; the low sounds often cut out completely, while the high notes blared with piercing power that created feedback loops in the phone’s speaker more than once.

He was back in his kitchen by the time he was taken off hold, with Dexter staring at him from a reclined position on the living room floor.

That emergency room didn’t have any patients by Tabitha’s name. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved by that information or terrified. He wanted to find her, needed to find her, but if she was in a hospital…

That would mean she wasn’t fine, wouldn’t it?

For the next half hour, he called every emergency room and hospital listed. With each ended call, his dread grew heavier, his fear grew colder, and his chest and throat grew a little tighter. She was out there somewhere; she had to be. But where?

His breaths were short and ragged when he called OHSU Hospital. He was already anticipating the next place he’d contact afterward even as he dialed. He navigated the automated answering system, fighting back his mounting frustration with the primitive, unintuitive interface, until finally getting through to a living person.

“How can I help you?” the woman on the phone asked.

“I’m looking for a patient,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time. “Tabitha Mathews.”

“Just a moment, sir.”

Thankfully, there was no hold music this time, just the muted clicking of a keyboard and vague voices far in the background. But every passing second felt like one step closer to losing Tabitha. One step closer to her just being…gone.

“I’m not seeing any patients registered under that name.”

Something squeezed around Zevris’s heart, crushing it. His tongue slipped out to wet his dry lips, and his voice was rough when he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman replied. “Have a good—Oh, hold on a second! I’m so, so sorry, sir. I