“Who does?” she retorted. “You just make it up as you go. But we call the shots.”
“I’m not so great at making decisions.” I shrugged. “Much better at taking orders. I’m a great follower.”
“I don’t buy that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
“I don’t know.” I put the car in park and stared down the front door to the building, resolving myself. “But if we can’t call the police, I would just feel better if we could bring in some other ‘grown-ups,’ for lack of a better word. And since it’s my coworker and my guilt, it’s my call.”
“And your funeral, I guess.” Sloan replied with a sigh. “I’ll check in later.”
***
My heart was pounding when I arrived at my desk. I had a big conversation in front of me, and didn’t know how long it could wait. My job was riding on how this discussion went. They certainly didn’t have the whole story yet.
I opened my schedule on the computer and felt better instantly. My first patient had cancelled, leaving an opening. One just big enough to get this over with. I hoped.
I rushed down the hall to my boss Dr. Seymore’s office and timidly knocked, requesting a discussion. She graciously invited me in and gazed down at me, curious, as I took a seat in front of her desk. “So what can I do for you? Has Grant made it in yet?
I took a deep breath, trying to do a final thought-gathering. I planned to lay out a detailed description of events, starting at the very beginning. An articulate chronological explanation, certain to get her up to speed and on our side.
That wasn’t quite what came out.
“Grant’s been kidnapped and it’s all my fault,” I gushed uncontrollably.
Dr. Seymore’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened and shut. Then she crossed the room to close the door behind me, never taking her eyes off me.
She returned to her seat and took her own deep breath. “What are you talking about?”
I let it all out. It wasn’t the coherent exposition I had hoped for, but it got the job done. I started with the appearance of Sloan, the dipping my toes into investigations. That before I knew it, I was facing down an angry businesswoman with a gun. Then just when everything had settled down, half the local mob was arrested and we were given most of the credit.
But now Grant was missing, and there was evidence to suggest he had been spying on me, possibly for the same mobsters. And that he had something to do with the chopped finger that was found. I finished up with finding the ransom note and the futile discussion with his parents.
Dr. Seymore looked grim as I wrapped up my rambled detailing. “That’s . . . quite a story.”
She sat back in her chair, quietly pondering for a long minute. Then she leaned forward and scribbled some notes on a legal pad. The wait was brutal.
She looked back up at me. “You told me the other day he had texted you that he was home sick. Was he already missing, or was that the truth?”
I averted my eyes. “I thought I was covering for him. Fellow intern and all.”
“I see.” She scribbled something on her pad. “And this . . . evidence . . . that he had something to do with the finger. A note, you said? Did he show it to you?”
I shook my head. “I found it. In his desk.”
“So you were searching in his private belongings, before anything even happened?”
“No. Well, not exactly.” Strange direction to take. “Honestly, I was just looking for a candy bar. The note was just laying there, in his drawer.”
“So he offered you a snack?”
“No, he was already gone. But I thought he was just playing hooky. I had to take over his patients for the day and didn’t have time to eat anything.”
“So you were helping yourself.” She narrowed her eyes a little. “And do you have a habit of stealing from your coworkers?”
What is happening here? “Of course not. It was just, I was . . .” I started to stammer, embarrassed and confused. I felt my face redden.
Dr. Seymore looked back at her notepad, moving on. “So the ransom note, left on his computer. I assume you went to his house trying to find him? Trying to help?”
I sighed in relief. “I did. I started to get worried when he was gone the second day.”
“But you didn’t say anything to me, to anyone, choosing instead to ‘cover for him,’ as you put it.” She pressed her lips together before continuing. “And I certainly didn’t give you his address. You obtained it through other means, I guess?”
I nodded. “A friend.”
“A . . . mutual friend?”
I lowered my head a little. “No.”
She made another note on her pad. “And when you found this ransom note. Last night, you say. You then tried calling his parents? I understand Grant has nothing to do with his family. Hasn’t for many years.”
“Well . . . that’s not entirely true. It seems he’s recently been in disagreement with them, but they’re definitely in touch. We thought they should know.” I forced myself to stop nervously fidgeting with my sleeves. “And we wanted to have a backup plan on the ransom. Make sure we could get them to pay if we had to.”
Dr. Seymore scoffed. “And what would possibly make you think they could pay? We’ve discussed Grant’s meager background extensively in the past.”
I gulped. I didn’t want to be the one to explain all this. But there was no choice. “That story is not . . . entirely true either.”
Dr. Seymore looked taken aback. Amazingly, she seemed more stunned at this than at any other facet of the story. “What part?”
“Well, all of it.” I averted my eyes once again. “He actually comes from a wealthy family. Very wealthy. And definitely never lived on the street.”
She gazed at me coldly. “So many secrets, I see. All a big joke on the boss. And Grant confided this to you?”
I tried to keep from squirming. “No.” I could see where this was headed.
She leaned toward me a little, inquisitive. “Then how did you know about this wealthy family?”
I knew I needed to stick to short, sweet answers at this point. Why am I suddenly on trial? “A . . . friend told me.”
“This private investigator friend? The one that has drug you into this whole mess?” She pursed her lips again. “I take it you’re still working with her, then.”
“Not actively, no. I have taken a break from the investigating business.”
“Doesn’t really seem like it, now does it?” She dropped her pen on the notepad and pushed them both aside. “As I see it, so far you’re snooping around in your coworker’s desk. In his private bedroom. Stealing from him. Digging up his personal history. Hiding the fact that he’s missing and lying about it. To me. What if something really is wrong?”
“That’s why I’m here.” I leaned forward, earnest.” I’m certain there is.”
“Then we need to call the police. What you probably should’ve done in the first place.”
I shook my head and reached toward her, desperate to get things back on track. “I know. I want to. But the ransom note specifically says no police. We can’t.”
“I see.” She grabbed her pen and made another note.
I held my breath as she sat back again and studied me, her face expressionless. Surely she understands the gravity of the situation.
“I’ll have to get back to you on this,” she finally said, smoothing her skirt as she stood to hover over me. “You should really get back to work.”
TEN
It hadn’t taken very long.
By lunchtime I was parked down the street behind my apartment building, waiting for Sloan. She had agreed to meet as soon as I sent a mayday signal. I wanted to sneak in through the backdoor in the basement to avoid the possibility of reporters that were sometimes still lingering out front. I couldn’t take facing them. Not toda
y.
Sloan appeared at my car window within minutes. She pressed a bottle of wine to the glass and gave me a sad smile. “Brought reinforcements.”
I slid out of the car, grabbing my depressing little box of personal items on the way. I hadn’t had much of a presence in my student-extern desk. Just a handful of organizational tools I had supplied on my own.
“You don’t even like moscato.” I straightened with a sigh, emotionally exhausted. “Go ahead, you can say it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. And you’re right. That's why I brought another friend.” She held up a brown paper bag, undoubtedly disguising whatever ingredients went into a martini. “But it’s not about me. I’m not the one who got fired today.”
“I’m not fired,” I retorted. “Just on a leave of absence. A very, very brief one. Very.” I started walking to avoid her annoyingly sympathetic expression. “I’ll be back at work in no time. Just in time to get my hours in so I can graduate, in fact. It won’t be a problem.”
I just have to figure out how first.
“So why did you get sent home, exactly?” Sloan spoke carefully, as if afraid of upsetting me. “They’re mad you’re trying to . . . help your coworker?”
I sighed. “More like blaming me for his disappearance. Which I took full responsibility for—”
“And which I told you is crazy,” Sloan interjected. “It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”
“Whatever.” I waved her off. “But to them, none of this would’ve happened without me. And they’re right. There would be no dismembered finger—”
“We can only assume,” she interrupted again.
“Sure,” I conceded. “No media circus harassing everyone at work. And now Grant’s disappearance. I’m at the center of everything. And a major liability.”
Sloan was aghast. “They said that?”
I nodded. “I’ve brought ‘undue attention and danger to their doorstep,’ according to my boss. So she just thought it would be best if I weren’t there for a little while. Let everything cool off a bit.”
“I see.” Sloan raised an eyebrow to me. “And you believe her? That you’ll just go back when this thing settles down?”
I took a deep breath, not wanting to face the question. “I have to. But to be safe, I think getting Grant back is really my only chance. If everything turns out fine, surely they’ll let me finish my internship.” I cringed. “Even if I don’t get to keep the permanent job they offered me for after graduation. That’s gonna be gone for sure.”
Sloan narrowed her eyes. “You want that job, we’ll make sure you have it. We can dazzle them with our brilliant resolution to everything. Don’t you worry.”
I nodded. I couldn’t truly believe her, but her confidence did make me feel better. We’ll figure something out.
“So I take it they don’t want to help find Grant?” she continued. “Is she at least going to call his parents?”
“Wants nothing to do with it. Grant lied about his family from the very beginning. So she feels it’s really none of their business to call parents they aren’t even supposed to know existed.”
“One way to look at it, I guess.” Sloan pondered this as we started up the back stairs to my apartment. “And they agreed we shouldn’t call the police? That actually surprises me.”
“Another liability, as she sees it.” I shrugged. “If they make that call despite the kidnapper’s warning, and things go wrong . . . let’s just say the prospect of being held responsible was suboptimal to my boss. Said that decision belonged to his family, and they are choosing to stay out of it. She will respect their wishes.”
“Well, for once I happen to agree with corporate thinking. Or at least the result of it.”
I shrugged and glanced to Sloan as we approached the landing. “Guess it’s just us then.”
“It’s easier that way. No messy wannabe authorities in our way.” Her eyes narrowed, quizzical, as she looked past me down the hall. “Isn’t that your door?”
I whipped my head to see a rotund female figure dart down the hall, away from my apartment. A folded piece of paper was attached to the door with red tape.
“Can I help you?” I called after them.
The woman glanced back before continuing on, headed for the front stairs. It was my landlord. I frantically tried to recall her name but couldn’t place it.
“Sorry, in a hurry,” she called over her shoulder.
We sprang toward the door and snatched down the paper. I gave it a once-over and handed it off as I rushed in the woman’s wake. I could see her head bobbing a flight down when I reached the top of the stairs.
“Can’t we talk about this?” I called down.
She continued on without a glance.
“Please,” I tried again. “Let’s work something out.”
Reluctant, she paused her escape to glance up and meet my eyes. “Look. You’re a nice kid, but I just don’t need the headache. Getting complaints left and right. People traipsing in here uninvited, harassing people outside. I just can’t renew you. I’m sorry.”
The woman ducked her head and continued down the stairs, moving away as quickly as her bulky frame would let her. I watched her, fascinated, until she disappeared at the bottom. Then I turned back to a wide-eyed Sloan.
“Can’t say I’ve ever had a landlord run from me before,” I said with a half-smile, trying to lighten what I knew would be a terrible mood once this sank in. A foul, wretched mood to match my terrifically horrible day. Good thing she brought wine.
Sloan’s face contorted strangely.
“It’ll be okay.” I shrugged and started back down the hall toward her. “I’ll figure something out.”
She bit her lip and took a breath, hesitating.
My face fell instantly. “What now?”
She reached a finger out and pushed my door open an inch. “Did you happen to leave your door unlatched?”
What? I leapt forward and shoved the door open, slamming it against the far wall. I sucked in a breath at the view. Beyond the threshold lay a wasteland of my meager belongings. The contents of my living room lay in a chaotic pile on the floor.
We walked through in silence. The bedroom and bathroom were in similar condition, but everything seemed intact and present. I hadn’t had much of value to begin with.
My stomach roiled as I returned to the shambles of my living room. “At least nothing’s taken, I think.”
“Laptop?”
“In my car. That was lucky, at least.” I tore my gaze away from the rubble. “Guess we call the police?”
Sloan took in the room once more, then shook her head, decisive. “Security can handle all that. I don’t think we should hang around here.” She grabbed our bags off the kitchen counter and tossed mine over. “We’re going to my place.”
***
“Don’t tell me you changed your mind about moving.” I glanced back at Sloan, still hovering in the doorway of her apartment.
Her face informed me that was most definitely not the case.
We inched further inside and surveyed the now-familiar scene. The contents of her large open room, previously stacked in neat boxes, now lay like rubble on her hardwood floor and rugs. Pots and pans adorned the tops of the piles. Empty cardboard was thrown to the perimeter.
“Not you too,” I managed to eek out at a whisper.
Sloan stayed mute, just staring. Calculating.
“I just don’t believe it,” she finally blurted. “I’m so careful . . . ” She leaned down and picked up a picture frame. She gazed at it sadly, fragments of glass tinkling to the floor.
A noise at the back of the apartment made us both look up. Muffled thud. Then a toilet flush.
They’re still here.
“Don’t. Move.” Sloan dropped the photo and sprinted behind us into the kitchen, dodging piles of
overturned boxes. She crouched below the counter and disappeared.
I froze, unsure whether to obey or run. Is she hiding?
“What the . . . ?” Sloan exclaimed from behind the island. Her head popped up above the countertop, face drained of color as our eyes met. “Let’s get out of here.”
Before I could make my feet move, the bathroom door flew open and a figure began to move forward through the darkened back. We didn’t have time to flee. I stopped breathing as I watched.
One last step brought his face into visibility.
“Just love what you’ve done with the place.” Lucas beamed his megawatt grin at the two of us. “Knew you’d end up copying my style one day.”
ELEVEN
Lucas and Sloan stared each other down. I gasped, finally breathing again. There was no danger here. No intruder.
But my heart continued to race, regardless.
Lucas is back.
I would never have admitted it to Sloan, but my thoughts had wandered to her would’ve-been-brother-in-law a time or two since he disappeared. Months back he had helped us put the murder-for-hire businesswoman behind bars, and immediately hopped on his motorcycle and headed out of town without explanation. Leaving only memories of his impossibly handsome face to haunt my dreams.
“You,” Sloan accused, gaping at the toned silhouette across the room. I couldn’t tell if she was confused, angry, or relieved. Probably all three.
Unconcerned, Lucas shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans and swaggered closer. He studied us closely for a moment, his amusement not well hidden.
I watched both of them, waiting for someone to say something.
“And what style is that?” Sloan finally said. “Trash heap? You’re right, that does ring a bell.”
His grin officially broke loose. “Good to see you too.”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s no coincidence you finally show up again, right now.” She stalked closer to him. “You can’t tell me you just happened to resurface right as everything is going to hell.”
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