of two things at that statement: his mother, and the words written in blood on Sara’s wall: Conniving Abandoning Bitch. Then his face had flushed with guilt.
Jerry had asked Steve about any family or friends Sara had in the area. Steve said he’d never met any friends or family, or really anyone related to Sara. They had worked together for a year, but Sara never had anyone come to the office, no one ever called her, no one ever picked her up or brought her anything. Steve said he’d always thought she was just a private person.
Jerry replayed that comment over in his mind. She was private alright. What was she hiding? He went into the bathroom, got into the shower and tried to wake himself up. While in the shower he made up his mind. He was going back to Sara’s building today, and he was going to call the two cab companies he was waiting to hear back from.
In his bedroom, his cell phone rang.
Jerry finished his shower, scrubbed off and got dressed, checked the kitchen for food, and ran out of the house with a frozen breakfast sandwich just barely warmed up. He’d eat when he was dead. No wait, that was supposed to be he’d sleep when he was dead. Well then he’d eat when Sara was found.
He checked his phone on the way out to the car. Three missed calls from Craig and a missed call from Bayside Taxis, plus one message. Three missed calls from Craig? That’s a little weird, especially since it was 3 in the morning in Hawaii. He backed out of his driveway and tried to check the time of the calls at the same time but almost hit a small tree, so he put the phone in his lap and concentrated on driving. The drive to the Mariana Day apartment buildings only took him 6 minutes on the freeway, his phone forgotten in his lap.
As he pulled into a stall, his intention was to sit and listen to his message and maybe call somebody back, but before he even turned off his engine he saw a man with crazily-spiked, brown, bed-head hair walking up the walk to the building. Quickly, he threw his door open, yelled “hey!” and ran to catch up with the man. His phone, forgotten on the seat, began to ring.
As Jerry ran, the man’s eyes frantically scanned the grounds as if he were looking for a place to hide. Jerry opened his hands in front of him. “I just want to ask you a question about my friend who disappeared.”
Jerry pulled to a stop a few feet from the man and racked his brain for the guy’s name. “Hey, thanks. My friend lives across from you and she’s still missing.” Wysong, that was it. Chester Wysong .
Chester nodded. “You came that night. You were in a tuxedo. You were in the stairwell when that detective asked me what I saw.”
Jerry smiled. This guy’s powers of observation and recall were great. “Yeah, I was. I came from a wedding, that’s why I was wearing a tuxedo. Sara was my friend.” Is my friend, damnit . Jerry wasn’t sure where to go from here. What to ask. But he didn’t need to worry. Chester seemed glad for someone to talk to. And the next thing he said chilled Jerry’s bones.
“That guy came back yesterday and the day before. The cop-looking guy.”
Jerry’s brain seemed to freeze and all his thoughts and movements suddenly came in slow motion. He forced out a word. “What?”
“You know, the guy with the American flag tattooed on his arm? He was here again yesterday and the day before.”
With effort, Jerry unstuck his lips. “Did you call Gagne?”
“I did. I told him.”
Jerry looked around suddenly. What if the guy was here, right now?
Chester looked around too, his voice lowering almost to a whisper. “Nah, he didn’t come till the afternoon the last two days. But maybe we should go up to my apartment.”
Jerry nodded, glad to go, but his eyes still crawled over every bush and hiding spot.
Up on the second floor, Jerry waited while Chester unlocked his door. Chester slid the door open a foot and peeked into his apartment. After what seemed like an age,
Jerry had asked Steve about any family or friends Sara had in the area. Steve said he’d never met any friends or family, or really anyone related to Sara. They had worked together for a year, but Sara never had anyone come to the office, no one ever called her, no one ever picked her up or brought her anything. Steve said he’d always thought she was just a private person.
Jerry replayed that comment over in his mind. She was private alright. What was she hiding? He went into the bathroom, got into the shower and tried to wake himself up. While in the shower he made up his mind. He was going back to Sara’s building today, and he was going to call the two cab companies he was waiting to hear back from.
In his bedroom, his cell phone rang.
Jerry finished his shower, scrubbed off and got dressed, checked the kitchen for food, and ran out of the house with a frozen breakfast sandwich just barely warmed up. He’d eat when he was dead. No wait, that was supposed to be he’d sleep when he was dead. Well then he’d eat when Sara was found.
He checked his phone on the way out to the car. Three missed calls from Craig and a missed call from Bayside Taxis, plus one message. Three missed calls from Craig? That’s a little weird, especially since it was 3 in the morning in Hawaii. He backed out of his driveway and tried to check the time of the calls at the same time but almost hit a small tree, so he put the phone in his lap and concentrated on driving. The drive to the Mariana Day apartment buildings only took him 6 minutes on the freeway, his phone forgotten in his lap.
As he pulled into a stall, his intention was to sit and listen to his message and maybe call somebody back, but before he even turned off his engine he saw a man with crazily-spiked, brown, bed-head hair walking up the walk to the building. Quickly, he threw his door open, yelled “hey!” and ran to catch up with the man. His phone, forgotten on the seat, began to ring.
As Jerry ran, the man’s eyes frantically scanned the grounds as if he were looking for a place to hide. Jerry opened his hands in front of him. “I just want to ask you a question about my friend who disappeared.”
Jerry pulled to a stop a few feet from the man and racked his brain for the guy’s name. “Hey, thanks. My friend lives across from you and she’s still missing.” Wysong, that was it. Chester Wysong .
Chester nodded. “You came that night. You were in a tuxedo. You were in the stairwell when that detective asked me what I saw.”
Jerry smiled. This guy’s powers of observation and recall were great. “Yeah, I was. I came from a wedding, that’s why I was wearing a tuxedo. Sara was my friend.” Is my friend, damnit . Jerry wasn’t sure where to go from here. What to ask. But he didn’t need to worry. Chester seemed glad for someone to talk to. And the next thing he said chilled Jerry’s bones.
“That guy came back yesterday and the day before. The cop-looking guy.”
Jerry’s brain seemed to freeze and all his thoughts and movements suddenly came in slow motion. He forced out a word. “What?”
“You know, the guy with the American flag tattooed on his arm? He was here again yesterday and the day before.”
With effort, Jerry unstuck his lips. “Did you call Gagne?”
“I did. I told him.”
Jerry looked around suddenly. What if the guy was here, right now?
Chester looked around too, his voice lowering almost to a whisper. “Nah, he didn’t come till the afternoon the last two days. But maybe we should go up to my apartment.”
Jerry nodded, glad to go, but his eyes still crawled over every bush and hiding spot.
Up on the second floor, Jerry waited while Chester unlocked his door. Chester slid the door open a foot and peeked into his apartment. After what seemed like an age,
Similar Books
