Zachary wandered back out to the sidewalk, unwrapping the chocolate bar slowly and eating it. He watched the birds, the clouds scudding across the sky, the few people who were out on the sidewalk waiting for buses or going about their own private business, heads down, paying no attention to anyone else.
As far as he could tell.
After consuming the chocolate bar, he proceeded down the street, still alert for anyone who might be following or watching him. Everything seemed peaceful and nonthreatening. The woman had just been a crazy old woman. Playing cloak and dagger with him. A little excitement to spice up her day. Something to tell her husband when they saw each other at the end of the day. Something to laugh about.
He crossed the street again when he reached the building she had indicated. Red brick. Old. Not exactly dilapidated, but not quite middle class, either. The type of place Zachary might have moved into. Something cheap, without a lot of amenities, that fell within his budget. And if there were several kids living together, they could split up the rent into something that was manageable for entry-level, minimum-wage workers.
He entered the front door alcove. The same as any apartment building entryway. A little glassed-in area with a button panel on the wall, some of them with names scribbled on labels or tape beside the buttons. Room numbers, last names, crossed-out previous occupants.
The easiest approach in an apartment building was just to press all the buttons. Most people would ignore it, or would answer in irritation, or sleep through it. If no one answered the first time, he would try again. Eventually, someone would just give up and press the door release because they didn’t want to be bothered anymore.
He looked at the handwritten labels as he pressed each button in sequence. He didn’t see a Madison, Miller, or Noah. But he didn’t know Noah’s last name and probably neither of them would want their name on a button. Did they have friends who came to see them? Or was it just a place to crash? There was no guarantee that it was Madison’s building. In fact, the odds were against it.
Zachary continued to press buttons and ignore the irritated answers, until he heard the buzz of the door release. He pushed through it and started down the hall. The building was pretty quiet. It was too early for night-dwellers, and those who had stores to open or nine-to-five office jobs were gone.
A man opened one of the doors into the hallway, looking out blearily. He had an unkempt beard and long hair. He was shirtless, but at least had boxers and a dingy robe wrapped messily around him, showing plenty of curly dark chest hair. He had dark skin and very dark eyes. They looked completely black in the dim wattage of the hallway.
“Who are you?” he demanded. He scratched under his arm. “You don’t belong here.”
“Where is she?” Zachary returned, as aggressively as he could manage. He pointed his phone screen at the man, closing in way too fast on his head so that he was forced to rear back before he could see it. “Dumb broad stiffed me! She stiffed me! I’ll teach her she can’t do that!”
The man seemed to be having problems focusing his eyes. He looked at the screen, blinking, moving in and out to get it at the right distance. He raised his eyebrows and shot a glance farther down the hallway, and up. Like he was looking at a room on the second floor.
“How do I know?” he protested. “Hasn’t got anything to do with me, man!”
“You think it’s good business to go around cheating people out of their money? I paid cold, hard cash. I should call the police. I should teach her a lesson she won’t forget!”
“Hey, chill, man,” the man said, his voice low and warning. “Look, if you weren’t satisfied, then take it up with her manager. Don’t go causing trouble. You’ll get the wrong end of that stick.”
“Her manager? She wasn’t with anyone. Just by herself. She thought I wouldn’t be able to find her. Well, I have my ways! I knew where to find her!”
“You’ve got the wrong place,” the man said, shaking his head. Even so, he couldn’t help looking up again. “There’s no one here like that. I’ve never seen her before. You’ve got the wrong place.”
“You said she was here. You said talk to her manager. Who is her manager?”
“I don’t know. I misspoke. I thought you were talking about a girl at the bar down there,” he motioned vaguely down the street in the other direction. “This girl? In the picture? No. She’s not around here.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, man. Seriously. Everything is cool here. No one like that around here. I don’t know who told you she was here.” He tried to close the door.
Zachary stuck his toe in the door, which momentarily prevented its closure.
“Is she in there with you? I’ll call the cops. They’ll come in there and take all your dope and they’ll put her behind bars. You can’t go around defrauding people like that!”
“There’s no one else here.” The man kicked at Zachary’s shoe with his bare foot. Ugly, yellowing toenails. Dark, hairy legs.
Zachary withdrew his foot and let the man close the door. He waited for a moment, watching for other people to open their doors to see what the ruckus was all about. Or to quietly shut the doors that had been opened a crack to allow for better acoustics. There was no sound. Everyone was still, waiting to see what he would do.
Zachary muttered a few times about crazy chicks and being ripped off, retreating toward the front door.
He stopped at the stairway that led up from the tiny lobby area. No elevators. Nothing that was going to break down and need regular maintenance. People who couldn’t make it up the stairs need not apply.
Zachary stuck his head into the stairway first, listening for any movement.
Manager the man had said. That threw a whole different light on Madison’s situation. Maybe the crazy woman with the broom hadn’t been so paranoid after all. Maybe someone asking about girls in the neighborhood was putting himself in a dangerous situation. Maybe Madison wasn’t just a girl staying with her boyfriend or renting with a group of girls. A manager? That meant an organization. Probably a criminal enterprise.
So he was cautious. If the man on the main floor knew that she was upstairs, then her location was well known. And possibly guarded. If Madison were being held against her will, Zachary needed to be very careful in his approach.
He listened at the stairway for a long time. Until he heard someone coming down the stairs at a slow, heavy plod. A man with bloodshot eyes dressed in a long, dark coat came down the stairs. He looked at Zachary, wondering what he was doing hanging around in the stairwell. Zachary stepped forward to the first stair, acting casual, like he hadn’t been there waiting, but was just getting home like any other day. The man’s eyes flicked to him curiously, then he kept going.
Someone who lived there? Or a client? His red eyes could indicate that he was a drug user. Or that he had been up late. He could be completely innocent, nothing to do with the girls. But he didn’t appear to be armed or there to guard anyone—just a guy walking down the stairs.
Zachary only went up two stairs, then turned sideways to give the man plenty of room to get by him. Polite and respectful. Actually, he just didn’t want to get too far up and be knocked down the stairs by the man if he had misjudged the situation. Much easier to fall down two steps than a full flight. Less chance of breaking a bone or being put out of commission.
The man gave a polite nod of acknowledgment and walked past Zachary. He didn’t pause or look back, just kept going out the door.
Zachary climbed the stairs slowly, still listening for anyone else, either coming down the stairs or waiting farther up in the stairwell guarding against intruders. He went slowly so he wouldn’t be out of breath and distracted when he got up the stairs, but would be alert to any dangers.
There wasn’t anyone at the top of the first flight of stairs. As far as Zachary could tell, the stairwell was empty.
He was assuming that the man had been looking up toward the second floor, and not to a higher floor. He had
n’t looked way up, just at a bit of an angle, like he was looking down the hall at his own ceiling.
Just one floor up.
Zachary hoped.
19
He walked down the hall.
It was quiet, like the first floor.
He could hear voices. A discussion, not a fight. Other than that, silence. No one walking around, slamming doors, or conducting business. Night people sleeping. Morning people already gone.
Zachary didn’t see any signs of trouble. No guards. No threats. He looked at the ceiling. No surveillance cameras. There could be peephole cameras, but he didn’t see any that were obvious. The building smelled musty and of leftover cooking smells. Not a high-class place, but not a rat’s nest, either. Low class respectable.
After walking down the hall and back, he tried to decide on the best approach. Friendly like with the woman on the street? Aggressive like with the man downstairs? Waiting until the door opened to decide on an approach?
He decided to start at the apartment the voices were coming from. Might as well start where people were awake, rather than waking people up. They would be in better moods. And if the occupants could quietly point Zachary in the right direction, he wouldn’t need to wake up any enforcers. They could sleep, and he could decide whether to call the police.
He went to the closed door and listened for a moment, but he couldn’t make out any words. It was a woman’s voice. Muted. He still didn’t think it was an argument.
Zachary raised his hand and knocked on the door. Quietly, like a private caller, not like the police, hammering on the door and ready to break it down if the occupants did not comply with the initial demand.
The voices stopped. Zachary waited, listening carefully. He didn’t think that he would have to run, but he needed to be ready, just in case. Not that running was his best skill. He’d never been particularly athletic and, since the car accident, he had done physiotherapy to get him walking again, but running was problematic.
There were footsteps, and then the door opened. Cautiously. Not all the way. A face looked out at him through a gap of several inches. Zachary blinked. He had not expected to see a face that he knew.
“Noah.”
The boy eyed him warily. “I don’t know you.”
“Is Madison there?”
He looked back over his shoulder, a reflex reaction. So Madison was there. “Who are you?”
“My name is Zachary Goldman. I’m a friend of Rhys Salter’s.”
“Rhys.” Noah shook his head, frowning, then remembered. “That re— handicapped boy? What does he have to do with it? What are you doing here?”
“Madison has been reported missing. Her parents and a lot of people are worried about her.”
“Madison doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” Noah tried to close the door.
As with the man downstairs, Zachary already had his foot in the gap, preventing it from closing. “I’ll leave if I can talk to Madison. See she’s okay.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”
Zachary raised his brows. “She needs to talk to me so I can reassure her parents that she’s okay. She’s a missing person. She needs to let people know she is all right.”
“She’s fine. You can tell them that.”
“No I can’t, I haven’t seen her. She could be hurt. Chained up. It could be someone else in there. I need to see her or I don’t know.”
Noah looked over his shoulder again, reluctant. Weighing his options.
“What’s going on?” the female voice asked.
“It’s some guy… friend of your buddy Rhys. I don’t know how he found this place.” Noah rubbed his whiskers, frowning.
“Rhys?”
There was movement behind Noah. Zachary couldn’t see her yet, but she was there. Not being tortured. Not chained up. Just shacking up with her boyfriend.
Noah opened the door farther so that Zachary had a better view of him and of the room behind him. A small kitchen. A girl clad only in a long t-shirt, her hair still rumpled from sleep. Madison.
“Madison. Hi. My name is Zachary Goldman. You know your parents are looking for you?”
Of course she knew that. Did she think she could leave home and they wouldn’t look for her? That they would just shrug it off? Oh well.
Madison bit her lip. She looked at Noah, then at Zachary, not sure what to say. “I just… tell them I’m okay.”
“Why don’t you call them? Let them know that yourself.”
“I don’t want to talk to them. They’ll try to make me go home. I don’t want to go home. I’m fine here. Just tell them that. But… don’t tell them where. Tell them I want to be left alone.”
She looked at Noah again. Careful. Not wanting to say anything that would upset him? Was he abusive? Was he holding her there against her will, and she was afraid to tell Zachary?
There were a lot of ways to detain someone. Ropes and chains were not the only way to keep someone captive. Zachary studied Madison’s eyes. She avoided his gaze. Was she being drugged? Abused? Threatened? He wasn’t sure.
“Your family wants to hear from you. They’re not going to take my word that you’re okay. Whatever you’re running away from, it’s best if you confront it head-on. If it’s a problem with your family, it can be dealt with. If it’s something else…” Zachary shook his head. “They want to help you, Madison. Just talk to them.”
Madison shook her head. She put her hand on Noah’s back. Reassuring? Stabilizing? “No. Tell them I’m fine, but I’m not going back. I’m staying here. With Noah.”
Zachary looked for something that might convince her. But she was firm. And if he pushed too hard or made threats, they might run. It wouldn’t be so easy to find them a second time. He reached in his pocket and brought out one of his business cards. “Call me if you change your mind. Or if you need anything.”
He reached out to hand it to Madison, but Noah snagged the card out of Zachary’s hand and skimmed it onto the floor of the hallway.
“Out,” Noah said firmly.
Zachary withdrew his foot. He didn’t want to push Noah into physical violence, either against himself or against Madison. He had already stirred the pot enough.
The door shut quietly. Not slammed. A bolt and a chain slid across.
Zachary took a couple of deep breaths, standing there and hoping that his heart rate would slow down, now that he was no longer face-to-face with Noah. There was no danger. He had communicated with Madison. He’d been told to leave. He’d withdrawn. Whatever was going on with Madison, Zachary was safe.
He picked up the business card from the worn carpet, considering it for a moment. He slid it under the crack of the door into Madison’s apartment. Maybe she or Noah would just throw it away. But maybe Madison would pick it up and pocket it, and reach out to Zachary when she was not under Noah’s supervision.
When he reached the sidewalk outside the building, he again stopped to breathe and relax. He had another drink to wet his parched mouth before taking his phone out. He dialed Campbell’s number.
“I found her.”
20
Zachary had hoped that the resolution of the case would be a big celebration. He would find Madison, bring her home, and she and her family would be overjoyed. Everything would be resolved. Rhys would be happy. Zachary could go on with his other work, knowing that he had made a difference in one family’s life.
But knowing where Madison was and that she refused to go home was disheartening.
Campbell sent a couple of officers over to talk to her before they could ditch the apartment and find something else. The cops confirmed what she had told Zachary. She said she was there of her own free will. She wanted to stay. She didn’t want to talk to her parents.
And there was no law against leaving. She was a runaway, but she was old enough that the cops knew there was no point in taking her home. She would just leave again. There was nothing to resolve with her parents. There hadn’t been a fight. She h
ad just decided to move in with her boyfriend. Maybe in a few weeks or months, they would have a fight and break up, and maybe then Madison would decide to go home again. Until then, there wasn’t much that anyone could do.
Kenzie had agreed to Sunday dinner with Mr. Peterson and Pat. There was always a discussion over who would drive. Both liked to make the drive for different reasons. Zachary because he found it reassuring and meditative. Highway driving was one of the only times that his brain slowed down and he experienced being ‘in the zone,’ which he imagined was what it was like in most people’s brains most of the time. Able to focus on just one thing at a time, his restless brain watching the horizon and taking care of navigation, leaving the remainder of his brain to think things through.
Kenzie, on the other hand, loved her little red sports car. Zachary had to admit that it was a sweet ride and, in the summer when they could ride around town with the top down, it was an exhilarating experience. But highway driving with the top down just made the wind roar around his ears, and it was still too cold for even driving around town, unless it was an exceptionally nice, unseasonably warm day.
“How about I drive this time,” Zachary suggested. “And next time we go, you can take your car. When it’s warmer.”
“We could go down in separate cars,” she teased. “Then both of us can drive.”
Zachary opened his mouth, trying to corral the one argument that would convince her that was a silly idea. If they arrived in separate vehicles, Lorne and Pat would think that they were fighting. Or that something was wrong. It would use up twice the gas. And they wouldn’t have the pleasure of each other’s company on the way. It just didn’t make any sense.
Kenzie grinned at him. “We’re not going to go in separate cars,” she assured him.
She Told a Lie Page 10