I went on cheerfully as if she hadn’t said anything at all. I found this was the best way to deal with her — really the only way that didn’t involve heavy meds or jail time. “Do you happen to have Packard Graystone’s phone number? You know, Axton’s brother?”
She clicked her teeth. “Yes, Rosalyn, I know who Dr. Graystone is. Why on earth would you need his phone number?”
I rolled my eyes and held back a sigh. Nothing was ever easy. “Axton’s gone missing and I was wondering if Packard had heard from him. I just want to be sure Ax is all right. Oh, and I need his mom’s number, too.”
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this, Rosalyn. You might worry them unnecessarily. He’s probably out getting high.” She whispered the last two words.
“Fine, Mom, just forget it.”
“All right, Rosalyn, calm down. There’s no need to get upset.”
“Do you have their numbers or not?”
“I don’t know. It may take some work to get them.”
She waited two beats for me to tell her how grateful I was. I left her waiting.
“Be here for dinner tomorrow, eight sharp. I may have them by then.” And she hung up on me.
Well played, Mom. Well played.
The campus of Huntingford City College covered three acres of land. There were a total of six trees, the leaves of which had started turning red and gold at the tips, and one gently rolling hill amidst its four squat buildings.
I won’t bore you with the specifics of my ethics test. I was bored enough for all of us. As soon as class let out and I cleared the door, I called Axton’s home number. The minutes on my phone were racking up and my bank account was not going to be happy.
“Speak,” Joe answered, followed by a wheezy laugh.
“Joe, it’s Rose. Have you—”
“Rosalita. Hey man, didn’t I see you the other day?”
“No, Joe, it was this afternoon. Have you heard from Axton? Or the man in the suit? Did he come back?”
“Negative, Rosary.” He wheeze-laughed again and hung up.
The wind picked up to a gust and the temperature dipped as I walked past the lighted parking lot toward my car, which was parked on the street. I had just thrust my hands into my jacket pockets when a hand grabbed my arm and jerked me backward. I yelped and struggled to pull away. Fear flooded my system. The yelp became a scream. I spun around, finally yanking my arm out of my assailant’s grip.
Two good Samaritans hollered from across the lot, a thin African-American guy with a backpack in one hand, a cell phone in the other, and a woman in her forties wearing a baggy sweater over a broomstick skirt. They sprinted toward me, but my attacker didn’t flee. He just stood there, his hands raised in surrender.
“Are you okay, hon?” The woman’s gaze shifted between me and my assailant.
“This man came out of nowhere and grabbed me.” I got a good look at him for the first time. A little over six feet with attractive bland features and clunky black glasses. He wore a white button-down and khakis.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you’re Axton’s friend, right?”
I glared at him. “I don’t know you.”
“We’ve never met. I just started working with Axton in the IT department. I’ve seen a picture of you on his desk. I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Gunderson.” He held out his hand. I didn’t shake it.
I stood on the sidewalk, my heart still pounding, my body still shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline. “What the hell were you thinking? You don’t accost people in a dark parking lot. Especially women you don’t know.”
The guy with the cell phone finally spoke. “Are we good here or what?”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think there was a misunderstanding.”
“I’m so sorry,” Steve said to me. He turned to the man and woman who’d come to my rescue. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched her like that. I just wasn’t thinking.”
The woman jabbed her finger at him. “You don’t grab women, period. It’s not cool.”
Steve nodded. “You’re right. Will never happen again, I swear.”
“Thank you both,” I said.
The man mumbled something as he walked off and the woman gave Steve one last dirty look before leaving.
I turned to him. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know your name.”
I was still irritated, but told him anyway. “It’s Rose.”
He wrapped both hands around the strap of his messenger bag. “I’d been working late and was ready to go home when I saw you. What’s the deal with Ax? Eric’s pissed that he didn’t come in today. We had a real problem with the servers being down and had to reroute through a proxy server which filtered stuff out.”
“I’m sorry?” I had no idea what he was talking about. My lack of understanding — and interest — must have shown on my face.
“I’m boring you, aren’t I? Yeah, my girlfriend never wanted to hear shop talk, either. Well, my ex-girlfriend, really. We just broke up.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said after an awkward pause.
“Thanks.” He stared at me for a moment. “You know, you don’t really seem like Axton’s type.” I think he realized he might have insulted me, or Axton, or the both of us, so he tried to backtrack. “What I mean is—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “I’m not Axton’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, I thought…I mean he has a picture of the two of you on his desk, so I just assumed…”
“Axton’s my friend.” I felt a mixture of sadness and guilt as I said it. I hadn’t pressed him about the backpack. I should have insisted he tell me the details about the club. I knew he’d been acting unAxton-like in the diner, but I’d let it slide.
A blast of wind whipped my hair skyward. “Wow, it’s getting cold out here.” I rubbed my hands along my arms.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. Can I walk you to your car?”
“Yeah, thanks.” We walked toward the street in front of the campus. “Hey, Axton went to a club the other night. Do you know anything about that?”
“No.”
“Did you notice him acting weird yesterday? Nervous?”
“No.”
I went through my spiel — backpack, mystery man, yada yada. Maybe I should record this little speech because repeating it was getting old.
“I can’t get into his computer,” I said. “Do you think you could?”
“Yeah, probably.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But are you sure he didn’t just leave for a few days?”
While Ax had taken off a time or two in the past, he’d always called to let me know where he was and when he was coming home, and he’d always taken his backpack. “I’m sure. Do you want to meet up tomorrow and take a crack at Axton’s computer?”
“Like for dinner, or something?” He smiled. “I know this Italian place, they make an authentic osso buco—”
“How about I bring it by after I get off work?”
Steve’s smile lost a few watts. “Sure. You know where the IT office is, right?”
“Basement of Blake Hall. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I drove home, I kept checking my rearview mirror to make sure no one followed me. Yep, definitely becoming paranoid.
Feeling drained and more concerned about Axton by the minute, I slogged up the stairs to my apartment, sifting the keys in my hand to find the right one. But before I could slide it into the lock, a mountain of a man opened my front door. He loomed above me, his dark hair slicked back from his face. His crooked nose had been broken in at least three places and a long jagged scar ran close to his left eye.
He said nothing, but a deep voice from inside my apartment said, “Come in, Rosalyn.”
Chapter 7