Once the police involvement in whatever happened here tonight got out, the killer—and there was a killer, or kidnapper, orwhateverout there somewhere—would know someone else besides him and Raymond had been in the restaurant.
How long would it take that person to find Leah?
CHAPTER TWO
Monday, August 11
Gerard/Morris Apartment
Chestnut Street, 9:30 a.m.
Leah parted the slats of the blinds and peeked out the window. Her heart sank. The car was still there. Fear crept up her spine, making her shiver.
That car had been there all night. Two-door sedan, black. She couldn’t determine the make. Nothing sporty or particularly sleek. Generic…nondescript.
The first time she had spotted the vehicle was late yesterday, just before dark. After getting home from the nightmare would-be blind date, she had gone straight to bed. Ended up sleeping a good portion of the day away. She hadn’t even bothered to call Isla and tell her what happened. Surely the detective had gotten in touch with her by now. Frankly, she was surprised her friend hadn’t called her and asked what the heck happened.
Didn’t matter. Isla would be home tonight anyway. Leah could tell her everything then. This was not the kind of conversation to have over the phone. It was too bizarre…too personal.
She cradled her mug of coffee, wished the caffeine would kick in. This was her second cup, and she really, really needed the boost. Detective Lambert would be here at ten. She’d spent hours last night searching for news about Raymond, but she’d found nothing. No mention of him at all, actually. Not a single word about an incident at the Chop House. Did that meanRaymond really was on vacation? She supposed she would find out when the detective arrived. More knots twisted in her belly. On some level, she understood that somehow this was not going to turn out well. The whole situation was far too strange. As much as she wanted to believe there would be a logical—if not reasonable—explanation, she didn’t believe that to be true.
She’d already missed a shift at the library, and she’d had no choice but to call out today as well. So much for adding to her savings. But work was the furthest thing from her mind just now. She wanted—no, sheneededto understand what had happened in that restaurant kitchen. To the man she’d gone there to meet. The idea that she had fallen asleep and somehow dreamed the whole incident was absolutely ludicrous.
The buzzer sounded, warning her that she had a caller at the entrance to the building. Bracing herself, she crossed to the door and picked up the handset of the intercom mounted on the wall.
“Yes?”
“Detective Lambert here for our appointment, Ms. Gerard.”
“Come on up.” She pressed the button that would release the door lock for the detective. She desperately wished to never see him again, but there was no hope for that until this thing was figured out. Her head still swam with uncertainty each time she replayed the events of last night. A tiny part of her had even started to wonder if she was losing her mind.
No, she saw what she saw. This detective needed to figure out what had happened. That was his job.
Maybe, if she was really lucky, he had news that would clear up this terrible mess. Doubtful, but she could hope. Leah hung up the handset and readied to open the door. Depending on whether he took the elevator or the stairs, he’d be here fairly quickly. The apartment she and Isla shared was on the second floor. It wasn’t very large, but it was affordable for two students juggling jobs and student loans to get their educations. Sheand Isla were the same age, but unlike Leah, her roommate hadn’t taken a break before continuing her education. By this time next year, Isla would be moving on from medical school to an internship while Leah would be hoping to land a position teaching English literature at a university. She should have completed her undergrad degree and this master’s years ago, but a bad decision she never again wanted to think about had gotten in the way.
A knock on the door made her jump, even though she’d known it was coming.
She checked the view finder. Detective Lambert, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed, stared back at her. She opened the door and propped a smile into place. “Please, come in.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” he said. He stepped inside and surveyed the space.
Leah closed and locked the door. She always did so without thinking, but with the possibility that someone was watching her apartment, she was uncomfortable even with it locked. For a moment she wondered how the detective was sizing up her place. Small, but nice—nicemeaning well maintained and in a good location. There wasn’t much on the walls as far as photos or decor of any sort. Who had the time? The furnishings were a mishmash of what she and Isla had each owned before Leah had moved in. Since their styles were completely different, there was no true theme to the decor. Just a mix of Isla’s ultramodern pieces and Leah’s slightly more traditional stuff. Actually, the place had looked better—cleaner design-wise—before Leah added her things. The apartment had been Isla’s for several years when she and Leah met and became roommates.
She gestured to the living room area. “Have a seat.”
Though the detective crossed the room and paused at the sofa, he waited until she settled there to lower into one of the chairs. He chose the traditional overstuffed, upholstered onethat belonged to Leah instead of Isla’s modular leather-and-chrome one. The sofa and chairs were clustered near the one double window in the room. In Leah’s opinion, that rather large window was one of the most important features of the space. She loved that she could watch the people on the sidewalks and the comings and goings on the street whenever she wanted, since they lived in such a vibrant neighborhood.
She really enjoyed living in this city. Hadn’t regretted her move here five years ago for a single moment. Well, at least until Saturday night. She had to admit a brief bout with regret after that disturbing event.
“Did you find him?” she asked the man watching her intently. Perhaps that explained the unexpected meeting. She braced herself for bad news.
“Well—” he crossed one leg over the other, settling his ankle atop his knee “—that depends on how you define the word. We did find evidence that he had a vacation planned. At some point before the scheduled flight, he changed it to Sunday afternoon rather than the middle of the night on Saturday, which, for what it’s worth, lends some credibility to your story of a date. We also learned that he did not make the flight. His assistant has not heard from him. He has not checked in to the hotel in Los Angeles, and he is not at home. Based on a search of his residence, he had packed for the trip, but his suitcase still sits on the bed.”
Regret and dread funneled through her. She had sincerely hoped he would be found on vacation in Los Angeles and would admit that he’d decided to stand her up but hadn’t possessed the guts to even send a text. Although she had known better, she had still, deep down, hoped she’d imagined or dreamed the whole thing.
“Heismissing, then.” Of course he was. She had seen him dragged across the floor, blood leaking from his head. He was missing and injured…possibly dead.
“Yes. Raymond Douglas is officially missing. Since there has been no ransom demand, it’s unlikely that he’s still alive—based on what you allegedly witnessed. Whatever the case, be aware,” he warned, “that this information has not been released. The few details we have are not to be shared under any circumstances. I tell you this only because I need your full cooperation.”
