Inside the basketball arena's locker room.
Durant sat there with a dazed expression, wringing his hands. He kept looking up at the locker room entrance.
On the wall, the hands of the clock ticked forward, each movement seemingly pulling Durant's heart down with it, sinking deeper and deeper.
Just then, the follow-cam director pushed the door open and hurried in.
Durant shot his head up and asked nervously, "Did you find him?"
The director sighed silently.
Durant had been asking that same question over and over, countless times, ever since they discovered Owen had slipped out of the hotel.
"Sorry, Kevin. Still no word from the police."
The director shook his head. He wanted to curse someone out himself.
'Not playing in the game is one thing, but for a whole person to just go missing... If something happened, how would they explain it to Old Owen? The production team would be held responsible!'
Durant glanced at the clock.
