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“I’m, ah…meeting a friend out. I have to pick up my dog. Take him for a long walk. Check in on campus. Then later, go out.” I’m stumped on his fixing my bloody tire and therefore a mumbling mess vomiting out unnecessary minutiae.
“Have a good night. I’ll let you know if we pick up any leads.”
He disappears to the far side of the helicopter. I back away, my brain mush. The growly man fixed my tire.
“Thank you.” The weak expression isn’t quite enough.
CHAPTER11
112 Hours Missing
Ryan
Pre-dawn stillness reigns over Haley Street. The bright yellow bungalow sits at the corner of an intersection with no parking allowed along the front and side, so I drive into the narrow driveway and park. On this spring morning, sunrise won’t occur for another hour, but there are traces of gold along the horizon to the east.
Locating Alex’s address had been easy. One online search easily accomplished the task. I searched out of curiosity, looking to see how protective of her privacy she is. The answer had been not at all. She set her Instagram and Facebook as public accounts. She is trusting, and the bright yellow painted brick of her bungalow corroborates my conclusion. The young professor studies the darkest side of human nature and yet maintains a sunny outlook. Having fought in battles and witnessed men blown to shreds, I both admire that ability in her and wonder over her naivety.
With practiced ease, I stack one coffee cup on top of the other and tap lightly on her front door. She said she wakes early, but knocking shortly after six on a Saturday morning constitutes a gamble. A shrill, loud bark erupts.
She doesn’t ask who is at the door before swinging it open. Annoyance at her lack of situational awareness surfaces, and I push past Alex into her den. She holds a coffee mug in her hand, so I keep my extra.
“Is everything okay?”
A small, curly haired, brown dog barks and jumps, his nails scratching my unprotected calves. It’s the weekend, and my shorts and running shoes offer no protection from the yapper.
“Trace, down.”
The little dog disregards her command, so I bend down and offer my hand. The barking ceases as the tip of his nose wiggles while he sniffs.
“How’d you know it was me?”
She lives in an exposed house on what I imagine is a busy intersection during most of the day, and she didn’t check the peephole.
“I—”
“What would you have done if I charged in?”
She closes the door and twists the lock. “If you must know, I saw you through the window as I approached the door. Is everything okay? Or is early morning coffee delivery a standard service for Arrow consultants? Sort of like tire replacement?”
“Sullivan’s PR person has been effective at getting the word out. Sophia’s disappearance is inUSA Today, and it’s all over the news. And he released your name as a consultant on the case.”
“Oh.” Alex glances back out the window. “What made him change his mind about the press?”
“Our lack of next steps.”
“Why mention me? Is that standard?”
“I asked him that exact question, and he said his PR person said it emphasizes he’s using all resources, including private means, to locate his daughter. He ultimately agreed to it because he assumed it would help your career.”
“He’s not wrong.” Her brow furrows, and I wonder if she is worried about a media storm. We’ve already received a few media inquiries at Arrow, all messages left overnight.
“Well, I wanted to give you a heads-up.” The dog is calmer, so I rise from my crouched position.
“You could have texted me.” She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. Her body language is clear. She’s not buying my story.
“Yes, but that would have made coffee delivery challenging. Uber Eats isn’t available this early.”
Her tank top clings to her breasts, and the thin material does little to hide the perky nipples. An untied silk robe hangs loosely from her shoulders, and her pajama shorts expose those long, sexy legs. Thick cream socks cover her feet and rise to her defined calves. Her Saturday morning outfit is both adorable and sexy, a combination I didn’t know existed.
