Diners, Dives & Dead Ends (5 page)

“So?”

“Most likely he’ll come home
soon.  They usually do.  If you haven’t heard from him in forty-eight hours,”
she stressed that part, “then you can make a report.” 

This time I didn’t argue
with her, even though irritation churned in my stomach.  I was about to turn
and leave when someone called my name.

“Rosalyn?  Rosalyn
Strickland?”

A man walked toward me from
the main hallway branching off the foyer.  He had very short brown hair with a
hint of wave to it.  He carried a briefcase and the tailored navy suit he wore
complemented his light blue eyes.  Not my type, but yummy in a corporate way.

He caught up to me and
smiled.  He was handsome before that smile appeared, but after…  Let’s just say
there were dimples involved.

“It is you.  Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” I said, not
knowing who the hell he was. 

“You don’t remember me, do
you?” 

“Um…”

He laughed.  Those dimples
returned, and they were darn cute.  “I’m Dane Harker.”

I shook my head.  “I’m
sorry…”

“We went to school together
until I moved away in eighth grade.”

“Ah, okay.”  I still had no
idea who he was.

“I sat right behind you in
Mrs. Henky’s sixth grade class.  I wore hideous glasses, had a mouthful of
braces.”  He pointed to his face. 

Then I saw it, the nerdy boy
who used to shush me.  He’d really changed.  “Right, Dane.  How’ve you been?”  I
suddenly was very conscious that I hadn’t yet showered, wore no makeup, and my
blonde hair—one of my best features—was pulled up in a half-assed ponytail.  I
touched it nervously.  I wondered how he even recognized me.

“I’ve been well.”  His smile
widened.  “So what are you doing here?”

A light bulb went on over my
head.  Maybe this guy could help me.  “Are you a cop?”

“No, an attorney.  I was
here to see a client.”

“Oh.” 

“But I know some.  Cops, I
mean.  Do you have a parking ticket or something?”

“No, nothing like that. 
Thanks, though.  It was good to see you.”  I turned toward the door, but his
voice drew me back.

“Rosalyn.  I may not be a
cop, but if you tell me what’s wrong, maybe I could help.”

“I don’t think you can.  And
I couldn’t afford you anyway.”  My gaze slid over him, from head to toe.  “You
look expensive.”

He laughed.  “I am
expensive.  But for an old friend, I’ll give a discount.  I haven’t had lunch
yet and I’m starving.  Buy me burger and I’ll listen to your problems.”  He
shifted the briefcase from his left hand to his right and glanced at his
watch.  “I have forty-five minutes.”

I shrugged.  “I could use
someone to bounce ideas off of.”

We wound up at The Burger Barn
down the street from the police station.  I got the Barnyard burger with special
sauce and tater tots and Dane got a triple Moo with curly fries.  Once we
tucked ourselves into a yellow plastic booth, our food in front of us, Dane
took the lead.

“What are you up to these
days, Rosalyn?”

I raised my chin and sat up
a little straighter.  “I go by Rose.  I take night classes at the city college
and work at Ma’s Diner as a waitress.”

“Wow, I haven’t eaten there
since I was a kid.  Are the pancakes as good as I remember?”  He got a faraway
look in his eyes.

“Yeah, they’re delicious.” 
He hadn’t even flinched.  A point in his favor.  Usually when I mentioned my
occupation to people from my old life, they shifted their eyes away in embarrassment,
as if I’d blurted out I had a yeast infection instead of the fact I served
flapjacks for a living.  

He pulled himself back from
short stacks of yesteryear to the present.  “What kind of trouble are you
having?”  He had his burger in one hand, a curly fry in the other and alternated
bites, burger, fry, burger, fry.  Seemed he had a system.

“My friend, Axton Graystone,
is missing and the police won’t take a report until he’s been gone forty-eight
hours.”

He nodded.  “That’s standard
procedure.  And I think I remember Axton.  Scrawny kid, blond hair?”

“That’s him.”

Sucking on his strawberry
milkshake, he narrowed his eyes.  “Is Axton related to Packard Graystone?”

“Yeah.”  I swirled a tot in
pool of ketchup.  “They’re brothers.”

“I see Pack at the country
club from time to time.  He’s got a mean golf swing.  How long has Axton been
missing?”

“Since last night.”

“Have you contacted his
family?”

“Not yet.”  I shared all the
crazy of the last two days including the Post-it I found and the man in the
woods.

“You have no idea who the
mystery man is and all you have to go on is this NorthStar Inc.?”  He’d
finished eating and now leaned back, wiping his hands on a paper napkin.

“I don’t know where Ax is or
where he went last night or if NorthStar has anything to do with his
disappearance.  And I have no clue why this guy wants Axton.”

He propped his elbow on the
table and looked at me like he could see right through me.  Uncomfortable with
that level of scrutiny, I shifted in my seat.

“Do you want me to look into
this company for you?” 

“I told you, I can’t afford
you.”

His light blue gaze never
left my face.  “You’ve already paid me with a Moo burger,” he said with a
smile.  “I haven’t had a Moo in years.”

The way he said Moo sounded
naughty.  I stared at a cartoon picture of a cow on the wall next to us. 
“Sure, that would be great.”  I glanced back at him.  “Why are you doing this
for me?”

“It’s the least I can do.” 
He gathered up the trash and put it on the tray.

“No, the least you could do
is nothing.”  Why would some guy I barely remember go out of his way for me? 
And no, I wasn’t always this suspicious, but the last couple of days made me
wary.

“Fine.  I may have had a
very small crush on you back in the day.  It was probably all that time I spent
staring at your head.”

“You were always telling me
to shut up.”

“You were noisy,” he said. 
“And it got you to turn around and look at me.”

I laughed.  “That’s
diabolical.”  I grabbed my purse, pulled out a pen and a piece of paper then
wrote down my home and cell numbers.  “Here.”

A half smile teased his
lips.  “See, I got your number.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got yours.” 
I scooted out of the booth, dragging my purse behind me.

Dane did the same, except
without the purse, and slipped on his suit jacket.  He pulled a white business
card and a gold pen from his pocket and wrote something on the back of it. 
“Here are my numbers—business, home, cell.  If you need any help or get into
trouble, give me a call.”

I shoved his card in my
pocket as we left The Burger Barn, then crossed the street at the light.  A
large black SUV with tinted windows slowed to a stop across the road.  I remembered
seeing one just like it outside the diner the day Axton disappeared.

Black SUVs weren’t a rarity. 
I saw them all the time.  But ever since Axton gave me his backpack, I’d been
paranoid about everything.  I blinked as the car drove off and thanked Dane for
his help. 

As I watched him walk away,
the wind tugged at the edges of his suit jacket and lifted his tie, which he
caught and held down with one hand.  Tilting my head, I admired the view.  He
sure hadn’t been this cute in grade school.

Standing in the middle of
the street, Dane turned around.  “Hey, be careful.  You don’t know what kind of
trouble Axton’s in and I don’t want you to wind up missing, too.”

My phone was beeping when I
got back to my apartment.  I dropped my purse and yanked the phone from its
charger, hoping it was a message from Axton.  It wasn’t.  It was from my
ex-boyfriend, Kevin. 

Punching the delete button,
I put Kevin from my mind and tried to work up the courage for what I had to do
next.  I reminded myself I was doing this for Axton.

I took a deep breath and
dialed the number.

“Hey, Mom,” I said when she
answered.

“Rosalyn?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  Why?”

“Something truly
catastrophic must have happened.  Why else would you be calling?”

I went on cheerfully as if
she hadn’t said anything at all.  I found this was the best way to deal with
her—really the only way that didn’t involve heavy meds or jail time.  “Do you
happen to have Packard Graystone’s phone number?  You know, Axton’s brother?”

She clicked her teeth. 
“Yes, Rosalyn, I know who Dr. Graystone is.  Why on earth would you need his
phone number?”

I rolled my eyes and held
back a sigh.  Nothing was ever easy.  “Axton’s gone missing and I was wondering
if Packard had heard from him.  I just want to be sure Ax is all right.  Oh,
and I need his mom’s number, too.” 

“I don’t know if I feel
comfortable with this, Rosalyn.  You might worry them unnecessarily.  He’s
probably out
getting high
.”  She whispered the last two words.

“Fine, Mom, just forget it.”

“All right, Rosalyn, calm
down.  There’s no need to get upset.”

“Do you have their numbers
or not?”

“I don’t know.  It may take
some work to get them.” 

She waited two beats for me
to tell her how grateful I was.  I left her waiting.

“Be here for dinner
tomorrow, eight sharp.  I may have them by then.”  And she hung up on me. 

Well played, Mom.  Well
played.

The campus of Huntingford
City College covered three acres of land.  There were a total of six trees, the
leaves of which had started turning red and gold at the tips, and one gently
rolling hill amidst its four squat buildings. 

I won’t bore you with the
specifics of my ethics test.  I was bored enough for all of us.  As soon as
class let out and I cleared the door, I called Axton’s home number.  The
minutes on my phone were racking up and my bank account was not going to be
happy.

“Speak,” Joe answered,
followed by a wheezy laugh.

“Joe, it’s Rose.  Have you—”

“Rosalita.  Hey man, didn’t
I see you the other day?”

“No, Joe, it was this
afternoon.  Have you heard from Axton?  Or the man in the suit?  Did he come
back?”

“Negative, Rosary.”  He
wheeze-laughed again and hung up. 

The wind picked up to a gust
and the temperature dipped as I walked past the lighted parking lot toward my
car, which was parked on the street.  I had just thrust my hands into my jacket
pockets when a hand grabbed my arm and jerked me backward.  I yelped and struggled
to pull away.  Fear flooded my system.  The yelp became a scream.  I spun
around, finally yanking my arm out of my assailant’s grip. 

Two good Samaritans hollered
from across the lot, a thin African-American guy with a backpack in one hand, a
cell phone in the other, and a woman in her forties wearing a baggy sweater
over a broomstick skirt.  They sprinted toward me, but my attacker didn’t flee. 
He just stood there, his hands raised in surrender.   

“Are you okay, hon?”  The
woman’s gaze shifted between me and my assailant.

“This man came out of
nowhere and grabbed me.”  I got a good look at him for the first time.  A
little over six feet with attractive bland features and clunky black glasses.  He
wore a white button-down and khakis. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I
didn’t mean to scare you, but you’re Axton’s friend, right?”

I glared at him.  “I don’t
know you.”

“We’ve never met.  I just
started working with Axton in the IT department.  I’ve seen a picture of you on
his desk.  I’m Steve, by the way.  Steve Gunderson.”  He held out his hand.  I
didn’t shake it.

I stood on the sidewalk, my
heart still pounding, my body still shaking from the sudden rush of
adrenaline.  “What the hell were you thinking?  You don’t accost people in a
dark parking lot.  Especially women you don’t know.”

The guy with the cell phone
finally spoke.  “Are we good here or what?”

I took a deep breath. 
“Yeah, I think there was a misunderstanding.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said
to me.  He turned to the man and woman who’d come to my rescue.  “Sorry.  I
shouldn’t have touched her like that.  I just wasn’t thinking.”

The woman jabbed her finger
at him. “You don’t grab women, period.  It’s not cool.”

Steve nodded.  “You’re
right.  Will never happen again, I swear.” 

“Thank you both,” I said.

The man mumbled something as
he walked off and the woman gave Steve one last dirty look before leaving.