true problems between them.
On her front porch, he took a deep breath and lifted his hand to knock. She didn’t answer, so he tried one more time to call her cell phone. Still no answer.
Steeling his resolve, he tried the door handle, oddly reassured to find the door locked. Alyssa always locked the door when she was gone. Using the key, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The heavy scent of pine cleaner layered with ammonia assaulted his senses. With a frown, he flipped on a switch, flooding the foyer with light. “Alyssa?” His voice reverberated loudly through the room. He stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind him.
Her town house was always impeccably neat and clean, but the thick scent of the cleaner nearly choked him. It was as if the entire place had been doused in the stuff, which was odd, since Alyssa normally used vinegar to clean because it was better for the environment. He poked his head into the kitchen and living room, finding them both empty. The windows were all closed, but the air-conditioning wasn’t turned on. Alyssa preferred fresh air from open windows, especially in the summer. Gage forced himself to walk down the hall, his footsteps echoing loudly on the hardwood floor. The pine scent mixed with ammonia grew impossibly stronger.
Her bedroom door hung partially open. Holding his breath, he pushed it the rest of the way until he could see her bed, neatly made. Discovering she wasn’t home didn’t sit well with him.
Where could she be? He knew Alyssa’s Christian values wouldn’t allow her to spend the night with a man. And if she wasn’t with Mallory, or at work, where could she be?
The ammonia scent made his head hurt, so he opened the windows as he walked back through her town house. A sick feeling settled in his gut. Something wasn’t right. Maybe he should call Jonah Stewart. His childhood friend was a detective with the Milwaukee police, and he had connections that would help in looking for Alyssa. But how long had she been gone?
She might not be missing at all. For all he knew, she was with some nursing friends from work. Or visiting a sick friend. He decided to wait here in the town house for her. Surely she’d come home sooner or later.
In the kitchen, the blinking light of the answering machine snagged his gaze. His messages to her would be on there, but what if there were others? A clue to her whereabouts?
Ignoring a flash of guilt, Gage rewound the tape and hit the play button. The first message came through almost immediately.
“Alyssa, this is Kristine from Trinity Medical Center. You requested a two-week personal leave of absence. You know the summer is our busiest time of the year because of increase in trauma patients, but since you sounded desperate, we’ve agreed to grant your leave.”
Stunned, Gage hit the stop button on the machine. A two-week leave of absence? Why in the world would Alyssa desperately need two weeks off? The only family she had left was her sister, Mallory.
Maybe there really was a sick friend somewhere.
He hit the play button again. Aside from the messages he’d left, there were no other messages. Not even one from Mallory.
Gage turned away from the machine. Idly, he opened her fridge. The contents were spartan, no milk or anything that would spoil. Butter, ketchup and mustard, along with a jug of water, were left inside. He closed the door.
The house had been closed up tight and there was nothing to eat. Where had Alyssa gone? The last time he’d spoken to her was just two days ago when she’d called him from work, anxious to get together. Idiot that he was, he’d been thrilled by the idea that she’d wanted a chance to mend their relationship. Then she’d mentioned having grave concerns over his taking on the Jefferson condo project. She knew his construction company had been awarded the contract to build the new Riverside Luxury Condos owned by Hugh Jefferson. Condos that had been hotly debated within the city government for well over a year. She claimed there was something dangerous going on, and she begged him to cancel the contract.
He’d scoffed at her concern. First of all, he needed that contract. And besides, what could be so bad about building condos overlooking the Milwaukee River? The idea was ludicrous.
Until now. Alyssa’s empty town house caused tension to slither like a snake through his belly. He didn’t have any concrete reason to believe she was in danger, but the persistent worry wouldn’t quit. Had something happened to her? Had he failed, again? The image of his dead mother swam in his mind and he shoved it away with effort.
Failure wasn’t an option. Not this time. Because he knew his heart and soul wouldn’t survive if he failed to find and protect Alyssa.
THREE
Since leaving wasn’t an option, Mallory restlessly limped around her penthouse condo, searching for clues to jar her memory. Oddly, there wasn’t an overabundance of personal items lying around. She discovered she had an eclectic taste in music ranging from rap to jazz. Several new-wave art prints were splashed on her walls. Nice, but she couldn’t shake the awful feeling she was looking at her things through a stranger’s eyes.
Bone-weary, she fought off an encroaching wave of fatigue. She blinked and forced her eyes to stay open. There had to be something here that could make her remember who she was. Or why she continued to feel an overwhelming sense of doom. Hoping to find more personal items, she headed down the hall, toward the bedroom.
On the dresser she found a framed snapshot of her and Alyssa. She picked up the photo, surprised to realize just how much they looked alike physically. Alyssa was easy to identify, since she was conservatively dressed and wore her long blond hair pulled back in a French braid. Alyssa’s expression was full of joy, and she proudly wore a modest diamond on the third finger of her left hand.
In contrast, Mallory wore a slinky rose-colored dress, and despite the bright smile on her face, there was a certain sadness reflected in her eyes.
Who’d taken their picture? A man? Gage?
Mallory set the photo down with a grimace. This unhealthy fascination with her sister’s boyfriend had to stop. She needed to focus her attention on filling the cavernous blanks in her memory. On searching for the person whose blood stained her jeans.
Alyssa’s boyfriend was definitely off-limits.
The huge bed was softly inviting, but she refused to simply go to sleep when she had no idea what was going on. Or why she might be sad in contrast to her sister’s happiness.
Her control slipped and suddenly she couldn’t stand wearing the uncomfortable and blood-splattered clothes another minute. She stripped everything off as quickly as humanly possible.
After a good hour in the bathroom, scrubbing her skin until it was almost raw, she felt much better. But finding something appropriate and comfortable to wear wasn’t easy. She rooted through drawers, searching until she found a clean T-shirt that didn’t fit too snuggly and a comfortable pair of yoga pants.
On the opposite side of the bed, a bundle of rose-colored silk on the floor caught her eye. Intrigued, she leaned down and picked up the garment, fingering the fabric thoughtfully. It was a gown, cut daringly low. She had no memory of wearing it, or of leaving it lying crumpled on the floor, as if she’d changed in a hurry. She lifted the dress and glanced around the otherwise neat room. From what she could tell, she wasn’t normally a slob.
Had she worn the
