Packard walked toward the
door, wiping his hands on a green and white plaid dishcloth. He resembled
Axton, but where Axton was small and scrawny, Packard was taller, beefier, and
almost fifteen years older. The wiry blond hair was obviously a family trait,
but Packard wore his short and full of hair product.
“May I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Rose Strickland.”
I waited, but there was no look of recognition on his face. “I’m a friend of
Axton’s.”
“Jordan,” he said to the
kid, “go finish your homework.”
Darn, I still didn’t know if
that kid was a boy or a girl. Jordan could be used for both, right?
When the kid zoomed out of
sight, Packard narrowed his cold blue eyes. “Listen,” he pointed a finger at
me. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but that little shit has
nothing to do with me.”
My mouth hung open a second
before I snapped it shut. “When you say ‘little shit’ are you referring to
Ax?”
“That’s right.”
His brotherly concern was
underwhelming. “Axton is missing. Like really missing. I’m filing a police
report tonight because it’s been forty-eight hours. He’s in trouble, Packard.”
He threw the dish towel over
his shoulder and rubbed his forehead. “Is it a drug thing?”
“No, and he’s not really
into anything but pot.”
“Hey,” he said, “pot is a
drug. It’s an illegal substance.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed.
Packard was working my last nerve. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but this isn’t a drug
thing.” I peered over Packard’s shoulder as a tiny woman walked up behind him.
“Pack, what’s going on? Who
is this?” she gestured in my direction. Her brows drew together over light
brown eyes.
“She says she’s a friend of
Axton’s.”
I smiled and held out my
hand. “Hello, my name is Rose.”
She stared at my hand a
moment before shaking it. “Hello, Rose. Where’s Axton? Is he with you?”
“She—” Packard started.
“He’s missing,” I said, “and
I’m very worried about him.”
“Would you like some
coffee?”
“Sheila, I don’t want to get
involved in this.”
She gently shoved him aside
and opened the door wider. “You are involved, Pack. He’s your brother.”
I stepped into the house.
“Thanks,” I said, leaving
Packard standing by the door. The faint scent of dinner lingered, leaving a
garlicky smell behind. Whatever they had, it was better than salmon.
The foyer walls were
decorated in soft earth tones and rose into cove ceilings. The wrought iron
banister on my right twisted toward the second story.
“As you heard, I’m Sheila.”
She walked further into the house. “This way.”
I followed her to the homey
kitchen. Copper pans hung on a rack above the island range. Hot pads and a
newspaper lay on the granite counter.
Sheila grabbed a mug from
the cabinet next to the sink and poured me a cup of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”
“Yes to both, please.” I
heard Packard walk in behind me.
“You’d better sit down,” he
said.
It was a half-assed
invitation, but I took it and hopped up on one of the stools at the island.
Sheila passed me the mug and I took a sip. “I take it you haven’t heard from Axton?”
Packard grabbed a stool next
to me and Shelia leaned against the sink. There was a long pause. “Actually,
he did call me a couple of nights ago,” he said.
“Monday night?”
“Yeah.” He waved his hand
dismissively.
My stomach fluttered. “Is
he all right? What did he say? Where is he?”
Packard held up a finger.
“First of all, I could hardly hear him. And second, he never said where he
was.”
“Did he call from his cell?”
“I don’t know. I guess.”
He shrugged a beefy shoulder.
“You didn’t tell me Axton
called,” Sheila said. “What exactly is going on here, Pack?”
“I didn’t tell you because this
isn’t our concern, Sheila.”
“What did he say?” I wanted
to beat this guy like a piñata until he spilled all the information he knew.
“He said he needed help. I
assumed it was financial and told him no. Either that or he was arrested
again. Then we were disconnected. I assumed he hung up.”
“You do a lot of assuming,
Packard,” I said. “Are you sure you didn’t hear anything else? Background
noises, other voices?”
“God,” he snapped, “I
already told you no. I didn’t hear anything else. It was a ten second phone
call.”
Sheila crossed her arms.
“Again, what is going on?”
I gave them the scoop on
Axton’s vanishing act and ended with BJ and Henry breaking into my apartment.
When I finished, both Packard and Sheila were silent.
I sipped my coffee and
waited.
“He gave you his backpack,
but you don’t know why?” Sheila asked.
“The only thing I can figure
is there’s something on the computer or the internal hard drive. His boss,
Eric, is working on it.”
“And this man who broke into
your apartment, he wanted Axton? Did he say why?” Sheila asked.
I thought back to Gold Eyes
prowling around my apartment, touching my stuff, making threats. “No, but I
need to find Axton before he does.”
“He’s probably a dealer.
Axton’s been arrested twice, for God’s sake,” Packard said.
“Oh come on, Pack,” Sheila
huffed out a breath, “he was caught with a joint. It’s not like you’ve never
done it.”
“Hey,” he pointed a finger
at her, “I haven’t made a lifestyle of it.” He was big with the finger pointing.
And okay yes, Ax had been
arrested at routine traffic stops last year. Got popped once because of a
joint and once with a dime bag.
Since Sheila was the only
one who seemed to give a crap, I directed my comment to her. “This isn’t about
drugs and Ax always tells me if he’s going somewhere—even if it’s for a couple
of days. I really just came by to see if you’d heard from him.” I turned back
to Packard. “That’s all he said? You’re not leaving anything out?”
He sighed. “No. Axton and
I aren’t exactly close. If there was something wrong, I’d be the last person
he’d tell.”
“And yet, he called you.” I
set down my mug, picked up my purse, and dug around for a pen and paper. “Thanks
for the coffee. If you hear from him again, here’s my home number and my
cell.”
“Is there anything we can do
to help?” Sheila asked.
“If I think of anything,
I’ll call you. I thought I’d give your mom a call, too. See if she’s heard
from Ax.”
“Absolutely not. She’s an
elderly woman and I won’t have you dragging her into this.”
Sheila sighed. “She’s in
the middle of the Mediterranean anyway. Month long cruise.”
Must be nice. “Then I’m off
to file a missing person report.”
Packard swiveled toward me
and shoved a finger in my face. “Wait a minute, you can’t go to the police
with this.”
I wanted to grab his finger
and twist it, but I batted it away with the back of my hand instead. “I told
you, it’s been forty-eight hours.”
“This can’t get out. The
press will be all over it.” I remembered my mother said Packard was thinking
of running for mayor. Well, guess who wasn’t getting my vote? I was beginning
to understand why Axton didn’t talk to his brother. Packard was an ass.
“Oh my gosh, Pack, I can’t
believe you,” Sheila said. “You’ve gone insane, you know that?”
“I have a certain reputation
in this town—”
“Maybe so, but he’s your
brother,” Sheila said.
The two continued to argue as
I ducked out of the kitchen, down the hall, through the front door and back
onto the brick stoop. I wondered if they even noticed I left.
My last stop for the night,
despite the fact it was after ten o’clock, was the police station. I didn’t
care about Packard or his self-aggrandizing reputation, I just needed help looking
for Axton.
Unfortunately, I left the
police station feeling helpless and dejected. It had been a complete waste of
time. I told my story to some bored desk cop who typed it into his computer.
I was starting to get the impression the police weren’t that concerned about a
missing stoner. But this wasn’t just any stoner we were talking about. This
was my missing stoner. Axton. My bud, my rock, my expert on dorky sci-fi movies
from the fifties. I missed eating off-brand pizza rolls with him, missed
listening to him lecture about the graphics of game design. I missed him translating
English words into Klingon.
Sa’Hut
was his fave. That’s buttocks to
you and me. I just missed him, period.
As I drove home, I was
hyperaware of other cars on the road—making sure no one followed me. And when
I reached my parking lot, it took ten minutes to work up the nerve to run from
my car to the building. I didn’t like this feeling, as if someone was watching
me, waiting for me. It was exhausting.
The next morning at the diner,
Ma was in bossy mode. “No, Jorge, you need more sugar in the glaze.”
Jorge smiled. “Okay,
Ma.”
Ma nodded in satisfaction
and moved over by the grill to stand next to Ray. “Are you using too much
butter, son?”
Ray grunted.
I pulled an apron around my
waist and tied it. Although no unwelcome visitors showed up last night, I
still hadn’t gotten much sleep. I tossed and turned and jumped at every little
noise while my brain spun in circles over Axton. I was tired and cranky, but I
slapped a smile on my face. “Good morning, everyone.”
Jorge waved, Ray mumbled
something, and Ma walked over and hugged me. “How you doing this morning,
toots?”
“Not so well. I still
haven’t heard from Ax, I made a police report last night, and Axton’s brother
is an a-hole.”
“I have a feeling things
will turn out all right.” She squeezed my shoulder. I wished I shared her
optimism.
Roxy walked through the back
door and snarled. She chomped on a wad of gum and I noticed she had a nicotine
patch on her arm. She wore a skimpy plaid skirt and short-sleeved red
sweater. She looked like a crazy Catholic school girl who would kick your ass
with her thick-soled combat boots, even after you coughed up your lunch money.
“How’s that patch working
for you?” I asked.
“How do you think?” She
slammed out of the kitchen.
“Perfectly,” I said to the
swinging door.
I worked steadily until
around eight, when Dane came into the diner. He looked out of place in his
designer suit and leather briefcase. He smiled when he saw me.
“Hey, Rose, you have a
minute?”
“Sure.” I filled my
customer’s coffee cup, then walked behind the counter. Dane followed. “You’re
not staying to eat?”
“No, I have to be in court
in an hour. Have you heard from Axton?”
“No, but he called his
brother a couple of nights ago asking for help. Then they were disconnected.
The same thing happened when he called me.”
“I found out some
information on NorthStar Inc.” He pulled a manila envelope out of his
briefcase. “It’s a company that owns a few local bars and other small businesses
in town.”
“Thanks.” Although my hands
itched to open the envelope, I stuck it under the counter. I had too many
customers and couldn’t afford to get distracted.
“Sure. Rose?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to pass this
information off to the police?”
I quirked my brow.
He sighed. “Yeah, that’s
what I thought. Just promise me you’ll be careful?”
“You bet.”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
It was almost as if he didn’t believe me.
“I swear,” I said, raising
my right hand, “I will be careful.”
“If you need anything at
all, just call me, okay?”
“Thanks, Dane. I really
appreciate all you’ve done.”
“So have I redeemed myself
for shushing you all those years ago?”
I stepped closer to him and
in turn he leaned his head toward me. “Nope. You still have a lot of kissing
up to do.”
He leaned down further, his
lips tickling my ear. “Kissing up, huh? Sounds like torture. But if that’s
what it takes…”
I slapped at his shoulder.
He dimpled and strode out.
I smiled for a good thirty
minutes after he left.
The diner was hectic for the
next couple of hours. Ma ran to the warehouse store while Roxy and I held down
the fort. Traffic finally slowed down by midmorning. When only two customers
remained, Roxy bussed tables and I wiped down the counter. I was scrubbing
away when my ex-boyfriend, Kevin, walked through the door.