At twenty-seven, I was still discovering new sides of myself.
“Why don’t you guys take it easy for a few minutes?” Oscar popped more nuts into his mouth. “Velma usually goes through all my messages for me so I can sort out my week. As soon as she gets in, I’ll have a little tête-à-tête with her and then we’ll have our Monday morning meeting.”
Velma pretty much did everything for him.
We all did.
I nodded and walked back into my office, the one that I shared with Michael. But as I sat at my desk, I realized I couldn’t focus. My thoughts kept going back to Velma. I expected her to walk through the front door at any minute with some crazy story about traffic or breaking her heel or finding some kind of great deal in the garbage bin behind the bakery.
I tapped my finger against the desk and tried to turn my thoughts to something else.
“Have you heard anything from Grayson?” I asked Michael, trying to keep my mind occupied.
Michael twirled his chair toward me, a preoccupied look in his eyes. “I know he got to go home from the hospital. I planned on checking in with him later today.”
At least there was that bit of good news. We’d asked Michael’s friend Grayson, who was CIA, to try to open an encrypted jump drive for us that my deceased father had left. But, in the process, Grayson had been abducted and then barely managed to get away with his life.
We still didn’t have the jump drive, and I still didn’t know what was on it. But I was exceedingly grateful that Grayson was okay.
Thirty minutes later, Velma still hadn’t made it into the office, nor was she answering her phone.
I knew when Oscar walked into our office that he was worried.
“I need the two of you to go check out Velma’s apartment. I’m going to call a couple of her friends and see if they know where she is.”
I rose from my desk and nodded. I’d feel better if we went and checked things out also.
Michael didn’t say anything as he walked beside me. Before we slipped out the office door, Oscar handed us something.
“This is a key to Velma’s apartment.” Warning stained Oscar’s voice. “She gave me a copy, just so someone would have a backup. Use it if you have to.”
Velma and Oscar were closer than I had suspected. I knew the two had a past connection and that Oscar had helped her out of an abusive relationship. But I had no idea that the two were practically family.
I slid the key into my pocket, and Michael and I stepped outside.
As we did, I prayed that the bad feeling brewing in my gut was simply an overreaction.
Velma’s apartment was an older complex known as Anchors Reach. It was located on the river, three stories high, and each unit had a private balcony on the back side and an outside entrance at the front.
“Have you been here before?” I asked Michael as we climbed from his minivan and started toward the building.
“I haven’t.” Michael glanced around. “Nice location, though. I’m thinking I need a pay raise. Oscar’s been holding back on us.”
“Me too.” Although, prior to this, I had thought I was getting paid pretty well.
Perspective.
On the other hand, maybe this was what being frugal could lead to. Since Velma didn’t spend money on food, toilet paper, or clothing, I suppose she could pour her entire paycheck into living here.
That didn’t quite seem to fit the image of Velma that I knew, however.
“I wish I didn’t feel so nervous,” I told Michael as we climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“Maybe Velma’s not feeling well and her phone died,” Michael suggested.
I wondered if he really believed that. Michael wasn’t the naïve type. His street smarts seemed to be ingrained in him like the tattoos across his arms.
He rang the bell, and we waited.
No one answered.
He rang the bell again, and we waited some more.
Again, no answer.
This time, Michael raised his hand to knock at the door while yelling, “Velma? It’s Michael and Elliot. We’re here to check on you.”
When there was still no answer, Michael slid the key into the lock.
Slowly, he pushed the door open.
The good news was that the place looked neat, and there were no signs that anybody had been violent inside.
That only made me feel better for a moment, though. Because I knew that something was wrong.
Michael stepped inside. “Velma? Are you here?”
Still no answer.
We crept inside even farther. I stayed behind Michael, just to be on the safe side.
As we walked through her living room, I glanced around. For someone who was a cheapskate, Velma had found some great deals on the furniture. Though nothing matched, the coral couch had cheerful pillows. It appeared she’d painted a coffee table and bookshelves a pleasant white, and she’d added throws over two other chairs to make them blend in better.
Maybe I should have given Velma more credit when it came to her money-saving ways. In fact, maybe I could learn from her.
“Velma?” Michael called again.
Still no response.
Every step I took deeper into the apartment caused my muscles to tighten even more.
Michael pushed open the door to the bathroom. Empty. He pushed open the door to the first bedroom. Also empty. He pushed open the door to the last bedroom. It was also empty.
Unless Velma was hiding under a bed or inside a closet, she wasn’t here.
And the very bad feeling in my gut only grew larger.
Chapter Two
“Should we call the police?” I turned toward Michael as we stood in Velma’s living room.
Michael glanced around the space once more before sighing. “Let’s give Oscar a few more minutes to see if he touched base with her friends. In the meantime, I want to check out the kitchen again.”
I wasn’t sure what he was getting at since Velma clearly hadn’t been in the kitchen when we passed.
Despite that, I followed Michael and waited for further instructions.
“Check the trashcan,” he told me. “See how fresh anything in there looks. Wear gloves. If something did happen to Velma, we don’t want to mess up any evidence.”
I’d actually brought some disposable gloves with me this time. I slipped them on and used my foot to push the release lever to lift the trashcan top. It popped open, and I peered inside.
I was hoping to see something that screamed some type of answer. Instead, I saw some coffee grounds and a discarded container of vanilla ice cream.
“Anything?” Michael peered over the fridge door.
“Coffee grounds?”
“Touch them. See if they’re warm.”
I didn’t ask any questions, just did as he asked. “They’re cold. There’s an old container of ice cream.”
“Open it. See if it’s molded yet.”
Again, I did as he told me. “No mold.”
He closed the refrigerator and walked toward the sink. A coffee cup sat in the rack beside it, but nothing else.
Michael frowned and turned, crossing his arms over his chest as his gaze scanned the rest of the room.
“What are you thinking?” I tried to read his body language but couldn’t.