Come and Find Me A Novel of Suspense - By Hallie Ephron Page 0,27
the coatrack.
She carried Ashley’s computer into her office, booted it up, and waited until the icons materialized. If Ashley was like most people, she’d have backed up her address book on her laptop. Sure enough, there was the BlackBerry icon. Diana opened it and navigated through the menus until she found Ashley’s contacts. She made a list of about twenty-five names she thought sounded familiar, then started writing an e-mail message.
In the subject line she typed:
Desperately seeking Ashley Highsmith!
That ought to get their attention. The rest of the message she wrote with a light touch, saying she had needed to talk to Ashley, and if anyone had seen her around in the last few days, please let her know.
She blasted the message to the entire list. Seconds later, she heard ding, ding, ding as responses piled into her queue. A glance told her they were error messages for invalid addresses plus a pair of “Out of the Office” automated replies. She watched the message queue but nothing new popped up.
Move on, she told herself. Next, track down other tenants in her building.
That was easier still. She used a reverse-address search to find people whose address was the Wharf View condo complex, where Ashley had lived for the last two years. With a dozen names and phone numbers, she reached for the prepaid cell phone, now fully charged. There was no answer at the first number. Second, third, fourth tenant, no answer either.
On the fifth try, the line had barely rung once when someone picked up. “Hello?” A woman’s voice.
“Uh . . .” Diana had no idea what to say, how to explain without sounding crazy.
“Who’s there?” the woman demanded, her voice was frail and quavering. A hang-up call would probably freak her out completely.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Diana started. “You don’t know me but my sister lives at Wharf View, and you live at Wharf View, and . . . I know this might sound a little bit bizarre, but I’m just trying to find out if she’s okay.”
“Who are you? And how did you get my number?”
“I”—Diana was about to say “Googled you” but stopped herself. Instead she said, “I found your name in the phone book.” Before the woman could think about how unlikely that was, Diana rushed on. “I’m sorry. Did I catch you at a bad time? I’m not selling anything. Really I’m not. It’s just that I need someone to—” Her voice broke and a sob escaped. There was silence on the line as she covered the mouthpiece, getting herself back under control.
“Oh dear, is your sister in some kind of trouble?”
The overwhelming relief that Diana felt at this tiny bit of sympathy gave her back her voice. “I . . . I honestly don’t know.”
There was a little gasp on the other end of the line.
Uh-oh. She didn’t want this lovely woman going into a panic—one of them in that mode was plenty. “She’s a little flaky, you know? And it’s probably nothing, but . . .”
“But you’re worried. Of course you are. Younger or older?”
“Pardon me?”
“Your sister.”
“Younger.”
“Mmmm.” The sound was pregnant with meaning. “Which apartment is she in?”
“Eighty-eight N.”
“River view.”
“Do you have a nice view, too?”
The woman sniffed. “Parking lot.”
Diana’s pulse quickened. “You can see the parking lot? Maybe you can see her car. She drives a gold Mini Cooper.”
“Oh dear. I’m afraid all cars look pretty much the same to me. Though I do remember when it was easy to tell them apart. Cadillacs had fins. Buicks had those funny little holes in the side. And Thunderbirds—”
“You’d be able to tell this car, Mrs.—” Diana paused.
“Fiddler.”
“Mrs. Fiddler. Her car is teeny, and it looks like a miniature bus. Oh, and the body is gold but the roof is black.”
“Goodness. Let me see.” There was a grunt, like Mrs. Fiddler was getting herself up out of a chair. “I’m looking out the window right now.”
Diana crossed her fingers as she waited, though she didn’t know whether to hope that the car was there or not.
“The lot’s pretty empty. Weekday, you know,” Mrs. Fiddler said. “So many people work. But I don’t see a car that looks like a little bus. Nothing gold with a black roof. That would stand out, even from up here. Of course I can’t see all the cars.”
“You can’t?”
“There’s underground parking too. But I can take a walk down there and look around. I can even pay a visit to your sister’s apartment, if you like.”