“He called me for help, but we were disconnected. He gave me his backpack. He’s never without his backpack.” I did a little jazz hand move, trying to get my point across. “He left his home without his car and no one’s heard from him. He didn’t show up for work today. Don’t you think that’s suspicious? Because, personally,” I pointed to my chest, “I find that very suspicious. And there’s a man in a suit looking for him.”
She held up her hand to stop me. “Ma’am, you need to lower your voice.”
I took a breath and nodded. “Sorry. I’m just very concerned. This isn’t like him at all.”
“Give me his name and DOB and I’ll put him in the system.”
I did, and she tapped on the keyboard and fiddled with the mouse for a couple of minutes, and then eyeballed me. “He’s got two misdemeanors for marijuana possession.”
“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,
