Abby
.
Again not bothering to say hello, Toots begged, “Please tell me he's all right.”
“I wish I had something to tell. I've called his house, his cell, everything. He hasn't read the e-mail I sent either. I checked. I wish the shit would return my calls.” Abby sounded as worried as Toots.
“No news is good news they say. Have you spoken to your source at the police department? Maybe they've taken Chris in for questioning. I see them do that on television all the time. Maybe they've got him hidden away in one of those interrogation rooms just waiting for him to crack.”
Abby laughed. “Mom, this isn't
Murder, She Wrote
. If Chris were being questioned, I would know.”
“How?”
“Remember, I have that source? If Chris had been brought in, my source would have told me. If anything happens at the police station, my source promised to let me know as soon as possible.”
Toots took a swig of her cold coffee. “I feel so bad for that poor girl's family. If this is a stunt, she ought to be kicked out of the Screen Actors' Guild, or whatever the Hollywood union thing is.”
“We'll have to wait until we hear from either Chris or Laura. I did have my source e-mail a copy of the missing persons report. I looked it over, and it's just what one would expect. Name, address, date of birth, date she went missing, age, location of the person she was last seen with, which said Chris Clay. Said they were both at the Hot Wired Lounge. I'm sitting in the parking lot right now.”
“Abby, you should let one of those cub reporters stake that place out. If a young girl did go missing from Hot Wired, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be there alone,” Toots said.
“Chester is with me. You know how protective he is. I'm fine,” Abby said reassuringly.
“I want you to stay on the phone with me until you leave. If you believe anything untoward is about to take place, I want you to stomp on it and get the hell out of there. I don't have a good feeling about this, Abby.”
“Mom, I could be here for hours. My cell phone battery won't last that long.”
“Abby Simpson, I cannot believe you of all people would not have either a charger in your little MINI Cooper, or a backup battery. I don't like this Abby, not even a little bit. The news is full of women who've disappeared. If something did happen to Laura Leigh, and she was last seen at Hot Wired, it's not your job to investigate. Leave that to the authorities.”
Toots paused, remembering she'd sent for Goebel Blevins, just in case. She hoped like hell she wouldn't need his services, but having him in the same city would be reassuring.
“Mom, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear what you said. I am almost thirty years old, for Pete's sake! I know how to take care of myself, trust me. Remember, I've lived in LA on my own for quite a few years. As I said before, this is probably some stupid Hollywood stunt. I did hear through the grapevine that Laura Leigh might not get the lead in part two of her vampire flick.”
“You're not just saying this to make me feel better, are you?”
“Mom! Stop it already! I am fine. Okay? I am here searching for Chris, not Laura Leigh. I am going to hang up. If I have any new information, I promise you will be the firstâwell actually you'll be the secondâperson to know. Okay. I am hanging up now, Mother. Good-bye.”
Stunned, Toots hit the END button on the telephone. Sophie, Mavis, and Ida all stared at her as if her hair had just turned fifty different shades of green and she had sprouted horns.
“What?” Sophie asked.
“I believe my daughter just hung up on me for the first time,” Toots said, her voice betraying her surprise.
Chapter 4
A
bby and Chester remained at their post in front of the swanky nightclub. As the minutes passed, she became more worried than she'd let on to her mother. She knew Toots meant well handing out advice, but Abby was an adult and knew how to handle herself. She'd call her and apologize. She dialed the number to her mother's beach house. It wouldn't matter how late because Abby knew her mother wouldn't go to bed until she'd heard from her. Abby had to admit it was nice having her and her godmothers close by. She wasn't sure how long they would stay in Los Angeles this time, but under the circumstances, knowing they had her back was comforting.
Her mother answered on the second ring.
“Mom, it's me again. I'm still parked at Hot Wired, and I haven't seen Chris or Laura. I sent a couple of e-mails, tons of text messages, and I've called his house so many times I've overloaded his answering machine to the max. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. I'm sorry I hung up on you earlier. I feel like ...” She wanted to say she felt like her world was slowly falling apart, but refrained. She didn't want to worry her mother or godmothers any more than she already had. Abby was certain they were more than concerned about the situation with Chris and the missing actress.
“Apology accepted. Now, it's after one in the morning, Abby. Why don't you call it a night? I hate the thought of you being out there all alone, with all this uncertainty.”
“I'm fine, I promise. But I am getting concerned about Chris. It's not like him not to respond to text messages. I've sent so many of them, he'll probably think I've gone stark-raving mad, like a stalker or something. He still hasn't checked his e-mail, either, and that is really odd.”
“Do you want me to come to Brentwood?” Toots asked.
Abby had purchased a nice little ranch house in Brentwood. Before she'd been appointed editor in chief at
The Informer,
she had spent most of her free time remodeling her house. It had turned out quite nicely.
“No, it's too far for you to drive. It's late. I'm going home, Chester hasn't had his dinner yet. I will be fine. I just wanted to check in and tell you I was sorry.”
“Promise to call me when you get home? I need to know you're safe before I can even think about going to bed. Your godmothers are still awake, too.”
“Of course I will,” Abby said, then clicked off.
Her mother was just as concerned about Chris as she was though their lines of thinking weren't the same. Abby was wondering about the possibility that Chris and Laura had taken off for a romantic holiday. As an entertainment attorney, Chris found himself escorting some of Hollywood's most sought after actresses to all sorts of events. He'd told her more than once it was a job requirement that he wasn't very fond of, but Abby wasn't sure if she believed him or not. What guy in his right mind wouldn't want a sexy starlet hanging on his arm? Chris denied any attraction to the women he escorted, telling her it was only work to him and that there were lots of other things he would rather do with his evenings, but Abby still wasn't one hundred percent convinced. Yes, she and Chris had gone out on more than one occasion. Yes, she was very attracted to him. And she thought he was attracted to her, too. While neither claimed exclusive rights to the other, Abby was pretty sure Chris felt the same way she did. Abby sometimes felt like they were playing a game.
You show me your feelings, and I'll show you mine,
yet both remained poker-faced, waiting for the other to make the first move.
As she pulled out of her parking place across from Hot Wired, she told herself that if she found Chris, she would tell him how she felt. Well, only if he wasn't involved with the missing actress. If he was, she would continue in her role as nagging younger stepsister even though she'd never really had a sibling-like relationship with him. He'd gone away to college before Abby was old enough to get to know him. By the time he graduated from college, she was in college herself, studying for a career in journalism.
And now she was out searching for him like some lovesick teenager. The streets of Los Angeles had settled down for a few hours as the has-beens, wannabes, and were-nots partied in the dozens of clubs LA offered. The club-hopping traffic would only last for an hour or so more. Come sunrise, all the main highways would have bumper-to-bumper traffic and the infamous LA freeways would become elongated parking lots if a single car were to overheat, stall, or become involved in an accident. It was the perfect time for her to call it a night.
She wound her way through the back streets, heading toward the main highway to Brentwood. Chester, head on his giant paws, yawned. “When we get home, I'm making you bacon and eggs, Buddy.”
Poor Chester,
Abby thought. He was the best friend a girl could ask for. Didn't matter that he was a German shepherd, he was her family. He hadn't made a sound all night, except for the one time she let him out to take care of business. He recognized the word
home.
Rising in the seat, he peered out the open window, searching for the house. When Abby pulled her bright yellow MINI Cooper into the driveway, Chester growled.
She unlocked the dog's seat belt, and he bounced out of the car, running to the backyard. She waited at the gate while he did his thing. If it were daylight, Chester would be searching for squirrels, but for some reason, at night the desire to chase the bushy-tailed rodents completely disappeared.
Inside, with the doors safely locked and Chester at her heels, Abby flipped on several lights as she walked to the kitchen. The solid cherry floors she'd sanded herself glistened in the light, warm and comforting. She pulled down the shades on the French doors that led outside to an enclosed courtyard. She wasn't going to give a Peeping Tom an opportunity, not that she ever had that particular problem, but with everything that was happening, she was on edge.
Her mother's warning was ringing in her ears, and she had to admit it was possible there was someone out there abducting young women. That led to the thought that if there was, maybe he or she only went after Hollywood starlets. If so, she was perfectly safe and could relax again. Mentally kicking her butt for such a terrible thought, she tossed her purse and Chester's leash on the small kitchen table.
“I promised you bacon and eggs, and I'm going to join you.” Realizing she hadn't had a bite to eat since lunch, Abby removed a bright yellow bowl from the cupboard, along with eggs, bacon, and milk from the refrigerator. Using a cast-iron skillet that had a permanent place on the top of her stove, she sprayed the skillet liberally with cooking spray and turned the heat on under it, cracked five eggs into the yellow bowl and added a dash of milk. She whipped the mixture into a frothy pale yellow foam, carefully placed four slices of bacon on a paper towel, tossed it in the microwave, then poured the eggs into the sizzling skillet.
Chester stood beside her, his black nose twitching.
“Smells good, huh?” Abby said as she removed the bacon from the microwave. She stirred the eggs until they were plump and fluffy. “This has to cool, Bud; I like it hot, but I'm afraid you're gonna have to wait a few more minutes.” She scooped a large portion of scrambled eggs onto a paper plate, along with three slices of bacon, and placed it inside the freezer.
She took her plate to the table, Chester still at her heels. While she waited for Chester's dinner to cool in the freezer, she booted up her laptop, hoping against hope to find a reply from Chris. Her cell phone had died as soon as she'd hung up with her mother. Maybe Chris had tried to get in touch with her. She looked over her shoulder at the light on her answering machine, but the red light was as still as the nightânot one single message. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
She removed Chester's meal from the freezer and transferred it from the paper plate to his doggy dish. Chester was very finicky and would only eat from his dish. He wolfed down the bacon and eggs in a matter of seconds, then took several loud slurps of water from his bowl.
“I like a man with table manners,” Abby said to him. His noisy lapping always made her smile.
After she was finished eating, Abby checked her e-mail, still hoping for a response from Chris. She skimmed down the list. Nothing. Checking to see if he'd even read her e-mails, again she was disappointed when she saw the
NOT READ
icon on her screen.
“This is not good, Chester. It's been three days since Laura went missing. If Chris was last seen with her, has he also been missing for three days?” Abby often spoke to Chester as though he could understand her.
As he always did, he tilted his furry head to the side, his deep brown eyes locking with hers. “Woof!”
“Whatever that is in doggy-speak, I agree.”
What Abby wished she knew was if Chris had been missing for three days, too. She hadn't spoken to him in a week, so she had no clue. He worked out of his condo and didn't have a secretary or an answering service he checked in with, so it was a distinct possibility that he was missing as well. Should she file a missing persons report? No, you had to be missing for twenty-four hours. For all she knew, Chris was kicked back on his patio watching the stars.
Maybe he'd removed himself from the world of instant connection for a few days. He and Abby had discussed that very thing at great length. While both admitted they did not know how they survived before the World Wide Web, both agreed it was sometimes too invasive. They'd talked about taking a break from the high-tech world, maybe going away for a few days without a cell phone or a laptop. But that was as far as they'd ever gotten, talking about it. Maybe Chris had taken the much-needed break. Maybe he was simply holed up in his condo with the telephone unplugged.
Deciding there was only one way to find out, she tossed her paper plate in the garbage can. “Chester, my friend, we are going to do a little wee-morning snooping.” Picking up his leash from the table, along with her purse, Abby headed for the front door. Chester followed. “I'll pay you back big-time for this. When things calm down, we'll go visit Coco.” At the mention of the little Chihuahua, Chester ran in circles, jumping up and down as though he were performing in a circus act.
“Soon, Buddy. Right now, I need your protection. Just in case.” With that, she left, not bothering to turn off the lights. The hell with the electric bill. Her salary had doubled since she'd taken the position of editor in chief. She could afford to leave the lights on for a few hours without worrying about the meter going crazy.
Back inside her MINI Cooper, Abby fastened Chester's seat belt, then her own. She'd grabbed her cell phone charger on the way out and plugged it into the cigarette lighter. When she took her phone out of her purse and plugged it in, she saw the lightning bolt in the upper right-hand corner of the screen, indicating a positive charge.
Hoping she wasn't embarking on another wild-goose chase in the same twenty-four-hour period, Abby sped off into the night to search for the man who, even though he wasn't aware of it, held her heart in his hands. At least she didn't think he was aware of it. But that didn't matter. What did matter was that she find Chris. As the hours and minutes passed, she was becoming more creeped out than ever.
Chris's condo wasn't all that far from Brentwood. That time of night, or rather morning, it would only take twenty minutes to get there. Abby's schedule was so screwed up, she knew she'd never be able to work a normal nine-to-five job. Writing for the tabloid press required one to be ready in a moment's notice. Being in Hollywood meant most of the breaking news was late at night or in the wee hours of the morning.
Seventeen minutes after she left her house, she was pulling into the condo's guest parking. Hooking Chester's leash to his collar, she led him out of the car on the driver's side. One door slamming that time of morning was enough. Hopefully, Chris didn't have nosy neighbors.
Abby led Chester down the narrow sidewalk. Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, she practically tiptoed up the two flights of stairs. The sound of Chester's nails clicking on the cement was magnified in the still night air. When they reached Chris's condo, before knocking on the door, she peeked inside the small pane of glass at the top of the door.
She couldn't see much. There were no lights on, but she could tell by the moonlight filtering through that the sliding glass doors were open. Smiling and ready to kick his butt and take names later for causing her to worry, Abby gently knocked on the door so she wouldn't startle him. It was three in the morning, the witching hour, as Sophie referred to it, not the most appropriate time to pop in and say hello.
When there was no response to her light knocking, she knocked harder and was surprised when the door opened. “Chris?” She pushed the door to the side but remained outside. Seeing that she was right, and the sliders were open, Abby entered the condo. “Chris, are you here?” She waited for a minute, thinking he might be in the shower. When there was still no response, she pulled on Chester's leash. “Come on, boy,” she whispered. “I don't feel good about this.”
Carefully, she made her way through the living room without knocking anything over, though she had to admit Chris's furnishings were sparse; there wasn't much she could knock over except for a couple lamps. The moonlight illuminated the terrace. Two deck chairs cast dark shadows on the terrace. Abby dropped Chester's leash to the ground, gave a hand signal indicating he should stay, then stepped outside.