The landing was made of the same concrete as the stairs, a no-nonsense iron railing added to keep tenants from taking a nosedive to the parking lot. Alex’s heels clicked along the walk as she passed the windows of different apartments, some decorated with potted plants, one with a cat sitting on the sill, catching the afternoon sun.
“Hey, you passed her door,” Thorn said, gripping Alex’s elbow and halting her progress. “It’s this one—3B. Haven’t you ever been here before?”
“No,” she said.
He regarded her with a startled look, which he shook off with effort as he reached past her and rapped on the metal door. They waited expectantly for several seconds, then he knocked again, this time so hard, the curtains in the next apartment parted and an elderly woman peeked out. Alex smiled reassuringly at the woman who snapped the curtain shut without changing her expression.
“Friendly place,” Alex murmured as she watched Thorn take his keys from his pocket. He found the one he was looking for and inserted it into the lock. The door opened easily, soundlessly.
“Nat?” he called into the dark room.
No answer. He propelled Alex inside and closed the door behind him; they were instantly swallowed by darkness. She stepped backward and ran into him. He clutched both her arms and steadied her, then dropped his hands and patted the wall, looking for the light switch. The room was suddenly flooded with light.
Alex ran her hand up and down her arm where Thorn had touched her. He had his back to her and was leaning down to press a button on the answering machine. As his recorded voice filled the room, pleading with Natalie to pick up the receiver, Alex looked about, registering a beige sofa, tan carpet, creamy drapes, ivory pillows. The place was exceptionally neat.
Thorn had left three messages, each one reflecting increasing alarm. He flicked off the machine after the final message and faced Alex.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
“Maybe we should call the hospital—”
“I already did that. I also called the emergency clinic and the police, who told me to call back in twenty-four hours if I still haven’t heard from her.”
“Then maybe we should go back to your place and wait. I know this may sound silly, but I have a feeling there’s a perfectly logical explanation—”
He waved aside her assurances. “You’re her best friend. What about her family?”
Alex was immediately uncomfortable with the tag of “best friend,” although technically, she supposed it fit. Natalie had lived in Cottage Grove for less than a year and had worked in the shop just six months; as far as Alex could tell, she had few female friends. “You’re her fiancé,” she shot back. “If you don’t know about her family, how in the world would I?”
“Don’t you women talk to one another about things like that?”
“Don’t people about to commit their lives to one another exchange a little family information?” she countered.
He cast her an irritated glance and sighed. “I know her mother is dead and she’s estranged from her father. I know that she invited less than a dozen people to the wedding and half of them were from the flower shop. That’s all I know.”
“Well, Thorn, believe it or not, that’s all I know, too. Let’s go—”
“Not yet. First we’ll take a look around here for a note or some kind of indication as to where she might be. You take the bedroom, I’ll take the living room and the kitchen.”
Alex found the bedroom at the end of a short hallway. Like the living room, this.room was tastefully decorated in a bewildering array of beiges, but unlike the bulk of the apartment, it was amply lit with a large window and a skylight making artificial illumination unnecessary.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dresser and winced. The dress had not been her choice. The color did not flatter her dark eyes and hair and tended to wash out her skin tone. She had argued that it looked too bridelike, sure that Natalie would immediately switch her to bright blue or pink, but Natalie had just smiled and said, “It looks expensive. I like it!”
“It is expensive,” Alex had said, gulping when she got a look at the price tag. There was no swaying Natalie, however, and in the end, Alex had put a down payment on the yards and yards of flounce and fluff, knowing she’d never wear it after Natalie’s wedding.
Ah, she thought now. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of jeans and a tank top.
She felt like a trespasser as she opened a few drawers, coming away with the distinct impression that many items were missing. A peek in the closet confirmed that suspicion. There was a long rectangular impression left in the plush carpet that had to have been left by a suitcase. The clothes rod was half-bare.
So what? Natalie had packed for a three-week honeymoon in Hawaii. She’d talked of little else for the past month. She’d painted a picture of tropical nights and fragrant orchids, a picture only slightly marred by her continual reference to the first-class air tickets Thorn had booked and the deluxe suite they would enjoy once they got there.
A final glance around the room revealed a telephone by the bed and another answering machine. The telephone had a different number printed on the receiver, meaning Natalie had two separate phone lines. The message light was not blinking, but for some reason, Alex pushed it anyway. A mechanical voice informed her it would replay messages.
A male again, but not Thorn. This voice was lower pitched, older. “Nat, honey, you win. Meet me at Otter Point, we’ll go from there.”
Otter Point was on the Oregon coast. Alex had been there many times, though she’d never stayed in the luxurious hotel overlooking the cove, not with the prices they charged, not on her salary. But the beach was free and she loved to climb the black rocks and listen to the pounding surf. She rewound and replayed the message, glad that Thorn hadn’t heard it, undecided as to how to relay this piece of information.
“Play that again,” Thorn said from the doorway.
Alex swiveled around. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were like lasers as he stared at her, one hand on the doorjamb, the other in his trouser pocket. “Play it again,” he demanded.
She played it again.
“Damn her,” Thorn said.
“Now, Thorn, don’t jump to conclusions,” Alex cautioned.
“Jump to conclusions!” he yelled. He regained his composure and added, “I’m afraid I don’t see too many ways to interpret that message. Besides, you haven’t seen what’s in the hall closet.”
“Maybe that was her dad on the phone,” Alex said.
Thorn looked doubtful, but he said, “Play it again. Please.”
She played it yet again. The words were nebulous enough to leave the possibilities wide open, at least in Alex’s mind.
“I don’t think it’s herfather,” Thorn said. “He sounds old enough, but there’s some other quality to his voice I can’t pin
