Chasing Shadows (7 page)

I stood for a moment, just looking around the room, as if it might offer some clue to Nadine's whereabouts. It was really quiet in there, which kind of creeped me out. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but the silence of the place was unnerving.

When I reached the living room the first thing that caught my eye was a dark, wet-looking blotch on the floor. At the sight of it, the urge to turn around and run back out the door almost overcame me. I grabbed the doorway to steady myself.

“Please tell me that isn't blood,” I found myself whispering to the empty room.

Not surprisingly, the room had no comment. If I was going to find out what it was, I'd have to examine it, like you see detectives do in the movies. Of course most of that stuff is figured out by forensics these days, but I didn't happen to have a lab at home.

My legs seemed to have turned wooden and it was all I could do to make them move forward. They were shaking so hard by the time I reached the spot that sinking to my knees was no problem at all.

I leaned forward to get a closer look, which told me nothing. Reluctantly, I stuck my finger out and touched it. It was still sticky. Slowly, I raised my finger to my nose and sniffed, not even sure if I'd recognize the
smell of drying blood — if in fact that's what it was. The scent was sweet and familiar, but even so it took me a few seconds to identify it.

“Pop! It's just pop.” I found myself laughing nervously. “Great detecting, Shelby. You've solved the mystery of the missing cola.”

Rising again, I found myself even less composed than I had been a moment before.

No doubt I was weak with relief after the scare of thinking I'd discovered a pool of blood. I made my way shakily through the rest of the apartment, being as careful as possible not to disturb anything — just in case the police ever got involved and had to check the place out. I wondered uneasily if being in there could get me charged with compromising an investigation or something.

It occurred to me then that when I'd touched the spilled pop, I'd also left my fingerprint. I was tempted to wash it up, but in the end I left it as it was. After all, it would be better to explain how my print got there than to justify deliberately tampering with anything in the apartment, even if it was something that likely wasn't one bit important. Changing anything would look a lot more suspicious.

I finished a cursory examination of the place, satisfying myself that Nadine was nowhere inside. I even opened the closets and looked under the bed, though I can't quite describe the terror I felt at the thought that
I might actually find something. I was careful, as I checked through the place, not to touch anything else with my bare hands. Instead, I took a facecloth that was hanging in the bathroom and used it over doorknobs and anything else I touched.

A light coating of dust lay completely undisturbed on the furniture, and the sink and bathtub in the bathroom were dry as a bone. Those things alone suggested no one had been there for a few days, but the fact that the paint trays we'd washed out and left to dry were still all lying on the bathroom floor clinched it for me. No one would have left them there since Saturday. It was too awkward stepping around them. Nadine would surely have moved them before now, if she'd been there.

“She hasn't been here since Saturday?” I found myself asking aloud. That didn't quite fit either. What about the evidence of breakfast on the kitchen counter? That hadn't been there when we'd left on Saturday.

My head started to swim from the effort of putting it all together.

One thing I was certain of by the time I'd finished looking around was that whatever had happened to Nadine, wherever she'd gone, it hadn't been willingly. There were no empty hangers in the bedroom closet, and her luggage set sat undisturbed in a hall closet. On top of that, her makeup bag was lying on the counter beside the sink in the bathroom.

There was no way she'd gone off for days and not taken fresh clothes and makeup. What girl would do that?

The only thing I couldn't find was her purse. That was a big disappointment, because I had it in the back of my mind that if that was in her apartment, it would be strong evidence that she hadn't gone off somewhere of her own free will. Its absence didn't necessarily mean she'd gone somewhere voluntarily, but it weakened the chance that the police would take this seriously if I went to them with my concerns.

I was positive that wherever she'd disappeared to, someone else was responsible. The big question that remained was whether or not she was still alive, and I was trying not to think too much about that.

When I slipped out of the apartment, I pulled the door shut just as I'd found it, so that it looked closed without actually latching. That was partly in case the police did eventually get involved, so they'd find it just the way it had been left, and partly for myself. You never know when a clue will strike you — when you'll realize that some small thing that seemed insignificant at first will take on new meaning or importance. I didn't think there was anything in Nadine's apartment that would need double-checking, but if I changed my mind on that, I wanted to be able to get back in.

I was almost to the front entrance when a door swung open. It was the crazy landlady, and she startled me so badly that I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Did you have a good time up there?”

“I was looking for Nadine,” I stammered, “but she's not home.”

“Not home,” she echoed with her weird little cackle. “No better than she should be, that one. Well, you know what they say.”

“What do they say?” I must have been almost as crazy as she was to ask.

“When the cat's away and all that.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You were up there a long time. A long, long time. And what do you know? Which way the wind blows?”

I didn't know what to say to that. In fact, it was hard to tell if she even remembered what she was talking about. It seemed as though her brain switched topics randomly, so she might have already moved past the subject of how long I'd been upstairs. If not, though, it was likely that she'd heard me walking around up there, even though I'd tried to be quiet. I couldn't very well act as though I'd been waiting for Nadine to answer the door all that time.

“They're all sorry when it's too late,” she muttered suddenly. Her grey curls shook back and forth. “Ask Millie. She'll tell you what happens when you say goodbye
to good goody girl.” Then she stepped back and slammed the door shut.

I shrugged. Whoever Millie was — if she even existed — I sure didn't know her. Anyway, there was certainly more to worry about than a nutty landlady.

It was a relief to step out of the building into the fresh air and sunshine. Glancing at my watch I saw that I'd better hurry if I was going to be on time for work.

Reaching The Steak Place, I caught the familiar citrus scent near the employee door. It reminded me of the partly eaten orange on Nadine's counter.

For some reason, the thought of that orange plagued me for my entire shift. It must have been the last thing on my mind when I went to bed too, because I had a strangely disturbing dream about Ben and Leo feeding me oranges in the kitchen at work.

Only, in my dream, they kept calling me Millie.

Greg wasn't what you'd call impressed when I told him about what I'd discovered in Nadine's apartment, and how I was now certain that something had happened to her.

“Are you
nuts
?” he exploded, anger clouding his face. “What if someone had been in there? Did you stop to think of that? Did you even so much as stop to
think
of your own safety?”

“No one was there,” I said, shaken by his reaction. Greg is always so mild-mannered that it really threw me off to see him so upset. “Anyway, by my estimate, Nadine's been missing for days. It would be kind of strange for someone to kidnap her and then go hang out in her apartment, just waiting to be caught. Be a bit risky, don't you think?”

“What I think is risky is my girlfriend putting herself
in a situation where she could get hurt. Or worse. Let's assume you're right, and someone did take Nadine. Suppose this person had to go back to the apartment for some reason. You walk in and discover the kidnapper and what do you think would happen next?”

“Greg, calm down,” I begged. “Nothing happened. Maybe it wasn't the safest thing to do, but at least I know now that she didn't just go somewhere on her own.”

“You're not planning to go back there, are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“No. At least, I don't think so.”

“You don't
think
so.” He sounded disgusted. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“Well, how about if I need to go back — which I doubt — I'll call you to go with me?”

“Uh-huh? And if you can't reach me and you just feel you have to go right that minute, then what?”

“I'll wait.” I knew I didn't sound convincing. In fact, I didn't quite believe it myself.

“Shelby, this is no joke. If someone took Nadine against her will, you're putting yourself in the middle of a very dangerous situation. It's not petty theft or something. It's the kind of crime committed by someone who's desperate and treacherous.”

Listening to him talk I was struck by how serious this whole thing really was. Not so much that it could
be dangerous to me, but what was happening to Nadine. I kept trying to convince myself that whatever had taken place, she was still alive. At the same time, I knew full well the opposite could easily be true.

“On the other hand, there could still be a perfectly innocent explanation for her disappearance,” he said, but his eyes had shifted so that he wasn't looking directly at me anymore. If you want to convince someone that you really don't mean a word you're saying, avoid looking at them.

“That would be great,” I answered, “but I don't believe it. There's been some sort of foul play involved here, and all we can hope is that it's not the worst-case scenario.”

“Okay, I can see that you're determined to keep looking into this.” Greg sighed — one of those sighs that seems like a question. It wasn't hard to figure out what kind of question he had in mind. No doubt he was wondering how he managed to get stuck with a girlfriend who seems determined to follow trouble around.

“So, what do you have so far?” He sighed again. It was the sound of resignation this time, which was good to hear. The sooner he stopped trying to talk me out of looking into Nadine's disappearance, the better.

“What do you mean, what do I
have
?”

“I know you. You probably have lists of suspects and clues tucked away somewhere by now. Fess up!”

“Okay, from what I know, here's what I think happened. Someone or something made Nadine leave her apartment suddenly, sometime after we worked together on Saturday. By the look of the place, I'm guessing Sunday morning. But wherever they took her, she was still alive later in the day, because she phoned work and quit her job on Sunday afternoon. Only, I think whoever took her forced her to make that call, so no one would be looking for her.”

“Do you have any suspects in mind?”

“There's her boyfriend, Leo,” I said. “He's the most obvious suspect because, as you know, Nadine just broke up with him.”

“Is that it?”

“Well, like I said, Leo is the one with the most likely motive — at least that I know about. But there's also a guy who comes into the restaurant and stares at her. And then there's …”

“Whoa, stop! What's this about a guy who comes into the restaurant and stares at Nadine?”

“Just a customer. It's kind of creepy the way he sits and just looks and looks at her, but he's never said or done anything.”

“How old would this guy be?”

“I don't know. Late twenties, early thirties probably.”

“You don't know anything about him — like his name or anything?”

“No. Just that he's a customer. I've been kind of watching for him through the window in the door that looks out on the dining room. I haven't seen him so far this week, but then he could have been in when I wasn't working. Hey, I have an idea!” I jumped up, excited.

“I don't doubt that.” Greg smiled in spite of himself. “The question is, how safe is it?”

“Well, it's safe for
me
, if that's your worry. Suppose this guy comes in again. I could call you and you could come right over and, you know, follow him to see where he lives or something. Just in case we ever need to send the police to his house.”

“I see.” Greg looked bemused. “Now, I'll need a few more details on this assignment — like
how
I'm supposed to follow him. I mean, specifically, would I follow him on foot, maybe sneaking through hedges and stuff, or will I need to steal a car out of the parking lot?”

“Wise guy.” I swatted him lightly on the arm. “I don't know if he comes by vehicle or not. But, wait! If he's in a car, we just need to get the licence plate number. Then you wouldn't even have to follow him!”

“Uh-huh.” Greg leaned back, tilting his chair, and folded his arms behind his head. “You know what scares me about all this, Shelby? Knowing that you're just as likely to go off after some potentially dangerous person on your own.”

“I thought the lecture was over,” I sighed.

“Yeah, you'd like that, I imagine. No one pestering you about silly little things like whether you're putting yourself in a dangerous spot that could get you killed. What a nuisance I am — bothering you about such insignificant things.”

“It's good that you don't exaggerate,” I muttered.

“Shelby, listen to me,
please
. For once, bring yourself back to earth and pay attention to the facts of what's going on here. If Nadine's disappearance is due to foul play —
if
it actually is, and
if
you're not just chasing shadows — then this is no game. Have you stopped to think about the reasons she might have been kidnapped or whatever?”