Page 13
“Most people are exhausting.” Rook leaned against the bar. “You’re not. You’re honest, and you see patterns everyone else ignores, like whatever’s happening with Fiona.”
“I don’t know that anything’s happening. I just…” Ethan’s hands gripped the bottle he was holding. “I realize how crazy it sounds, but she would have called. She’s never missed a shift. Grant Voss arranged her date, and he’s connected to three other staff members who left without notice, and everyone thinks I’m overreacting, but the data…”
“Remind me again how long has she been missing?” Rook’s voice dropped.
“Nineteen hours now. Since eight forty-seven last night.”
Rook nodded. “And this Grant Voss. When did you last see him?”
“Tuesday evening. He was at the donor event we had.” Ethan’s precision kicked in automatically. “He approached Fiona during her break, they spoke for approximately eight minutes, and he left before the event ended. In Fiona’s text last night, she mentioned Grant stopped by the table while she was on her date, but I wasn’t there then, so I didn’t see him.”
“Did he approach you at other times?”
“Not on that Tuesday. He offered me consulting work three weeks ago. I declined.” Ethan met Rook’s eyes. “Why are you asking these questions like you’re building a case?”
“I have some experience in these things, and besides, someone needs to.” Rook finished his bourbon. “After the show, meet me at the staff lot. We’ll find Fiona.”
“We can’t just…” Ethan stopped. What couldn’t they do? Search for a missing coworker? Contact her emergency contacts? Investigate connections everyone else dismissed as coincidence? “I don’t even know your last name.”
Rook tilted his head slightly, as if he wondered why Ethan was even asking. “Does that matter?”
“It matters if we’re going to commit what might technically be harassment or unlawful investigation or…”
“Ethan.” Rook’s voice was gentle. “Your friend is missing. Everything else is logistics.”
The second act bell chimed. Patrons drained their drinks and filed back toward the theater. Rook stayed at the bar, watching Ethan with an intensity that should have felt invasive but somehow didn’t.
“Ten forty-five,” Ethan repeated, although he wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit or Rook’s. “Staff parking lot.”
“I’ll be there.” Rook stepped back. “Try to finish your shift without poisoning anyone.”
“That was one time, and the patron specifically requested extra bitters…” Ethan caught himself. “You’re joking.”
“Maybe.” Rook’s expression softened slightly. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”
He disappeared into the theater, leaving Ethan standing alone at the bar, surrounded by empty glasses and abandoned cocktail napkins, his phone still silent in his pocket.
Nineteen hours. Four staff members. One pattern everyone refused to see.
Ethan pulled out his phone and pulled up his spreadsheet. He had ninety minutes until the show ended. Ninety minutes to double-check every interaction Grant Voss had with Garrison staff over the past six months, cross-reference departure dates with Grant’s donor event attendance, and tighten his details to the point that he might be able to convince someone that Fiona’s disappearance wasn’t voluntary.
His hands shook slightly as he typed. The items on his job description could wait. Fiona was worth more than his manager’s dismissal and the theater’s reputation. Even as he typed, Ethan clung to the meeting he’d have when his shift was over. Rook - no last name - made him feel safe for some reason and supported him in a way Ethan had never had.
Together, they’d figure this out. We have to.
Chapter Five
The staff parking lot sat behind the Garrison Theater, separated from the main street by a brick wall that was showing signs of age. Rook leaned against his motorcycle, watching the theater’s back entrance while his shadows coiled restlessly around his boots.
Stay.
They didn’t want to stay. They wanted to slip through the gap under the door, wind through the hallways, find Ethan, and wrap around him until Rook could confirm he was safe. One tendril stretched toward the building. Rook grabbed it and yanked it back.
“He’s fine. He’s working.” The shadow sulked against his leg.
Centuries of hunting corruption, and Rook had never felt this particular brand of anxiety. His shadows had never been so agitated outside of active combat. They rippled across the asphalt, tasting the air, seeking threats that didn’t exist yet.
Yet being the operative word. They already knew service workers were missing, and now it was possible they had a name that could connect them all - Grant Voss. But Ethan was a connection too, being vocal with his concerns about his missing friend, working the same late shifts as other missing people, in a building controlled by those doing the hunting.
