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“No, she’s not, which is unexpected.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even if Ms. St. Laurent doesn’t come in, she always calls and lets us know her agenda,” Fawn explained. “We haven’t heard anything from her today.”
“When was the last time you saw or heard from my sister?”
“She was here mid-morning yesterday,” Fawn replied. “She advised of a personal appointment she set for mid-afternoon. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“Who was the appointment with?” He pressed.
“I don’t know. I was away from my desk when the call came in,” she explained. “One of the other girls took the call.”
“And Zsanine didn’t give any specifics as to where she was going or when she expected to return?”
“From what I understand, in the brief exchange, before she left, it was a new development near the outskirts of town. I don’t remember if she ever said what the name of the development was.” Fawn started to feel even worse behind every question. It reminded her of how much information she didn’t have and should have had.
“Is there any way you can track that phone number?” Brigham asked, his voice insistent.
“Maybe,” Fawn replied. “If the call came to the office and not her personal phone, I should be able to retrieve it from our computerized records.
“We need that number, Fawn.”
As soon as Fawn provided the number, the line was disconnected, and the new number was dialed. Brigham kept the phone on speaker so everyone could hear the results. They were all hopeful, although neither of them spoke that hope aloud. That sense of hope was immediately dashed when the three tones blared, advising that the number they’d been provided was not a working number.
“Did she give us the wrong number?” Shareef asked, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. He looked to his brothers. Increased angst could be heard in his rising tone. “It had to be the wrong number, right? Call her back and get the right number.”
Brigham didn’t want to be dismissive of his brother’s request even though he thought there was no point. He did what Shareef asked, called Fawn back, who confirmed the telephone number as she’d given it the first time. Mustapha could see the wind go out of his youngest brother's sails when the number was confirmed.
“Now, what are we supposed to do?”
