Addison
DYLAN HAD VANISHED into thin air. At least she must have, because we couldn’t find her anywhere. Father did come through for us, and soon he, Mike Warner, and Jake had their heads together, organizing search parties. Knowing Dylan couldn’t get too far in her Jimmy Choo heels and Stella McCartney gown, the search teams set to work, scouring a five-block radius of the building.
Neither Father nor Jake would let me join in on the search, insisting they’d get a lot more done if they didn’t have to worry about me. Asher was out there, though, which kind of pissed me off since he was no more badass than I was. Still, I had an event to run, so I put on my game face and started the auction while my insides churned.
Wishing I was doing anything other than waiting around, I stood at the back of the auction room, watching people bid. Some painting by a local upcoming artist was on the table, but I couldn’t care less. I scanned the room, wondering how none of these people knew or cared that my best friend was missing.
Missing. Why hadn’t she called me? Regardless of what my parents did, Dylan would have at least messaged me or Asher before she bolted. She wouldn’t have wanted us to worry.
A paddle raised and a bid was made by a familiar voice. Randal White sat three rows from the front, bidding on art while the security guard his company hired was probably out there hunting Dylan down. A woman on the OHSU board bid, and Randal countered. Another paddle went up, and again Randal countered.
I studied the painting. It was modern abstract, the surface raised by various metals, and hideous. Randal seemed like someone who’d be interested in more traditional pieces. When a gentleman representing the Hilton bid, Randal didn’t counter, so he must not have wanted it too much.
The next piece offered for auction was a ruby necklace donated by a local jeweler. Three bids in, Randal raised his paddle again. He threw up a few more bids before dropping out again. Strange. Men like Randal White were selective. When they bid on something, it was because they wanted it. They didn’t drop out of the bidding.
The next item—a dress donated by a local designer—came and went, and Randal didn’t bid. I’d almost convinced myself I was making something out of nothing when he flung his paddle up for the next item, a vintage train set.
I was still watching him when my phone vibrated in my hand. I had a new text from Jake. He’d been messaging me periodic updates to keep me from losing my mind. This one informed me there was still no sign of Dylan, so they’d doubled their five-block radius to ten. The police were monitoring Nicolai’s house as well as all major highways leading out of the city.
They were doing everything they could, but I couldn’t help feeling like we’d missed something.
Randal bid again. I walked over to the record keeper and scanned the sheet. Randal hadn’t won anything. So bizarre. It was almost like he was bidding people up. But why would he be helping us like that? Did he want the entire room angry at him for a reason?
Maybe. That would be one hell of an alibi. Wondering if I was onto something, I headed out into the hall and called Asher.
He picked up on the second ring. “What’s the word?” he asked, sounding both hopeful and afraid to hear the worst. I knew exactly how he felt.
“No word yet, but…” I couldn’t seem to phrase what I wanted to ask him. What if I was wrong? What if I was so desperate to find Dylan I was making stuff up?
“What, Addie? Spit it out.”
“Randal White. What’s your take on him?” I asked.
“Why?”
“It’s just… he’s in the auction bidding on almost everything. It’s like he wants everyone to know where he is. I can’t help but wonder… what if he lied? What if Dylan didn’t really take off?”
He sucked in a breath. “You think she’s still there?”
“Maybe.”
“But the doorman confirmed that he saw Dylan leave.”
“Asher, come on. We both know doormen can be paid off. I don’t know, maybe she’s not still here. But the front doors aren’t the only way out of this place. What if he and his cronies took Dylan out one of the other exits, and he’s here…” A lump formed in my throat, making it impossible to finish the sentence.
There was silence on the other end of the line, then finally Asher said what I couldn’t. “You think he’s there building an alibi.”
I expected him to tell me I’d been watching too many murder shows, but he didn’t. Every second Asher stayed silent reinforced the idea in my head.
“Dylan wouldn’t have left without telling us,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.
“Oh God,” Asher breathed, his mind clearly coming to the same conclusion. “Have you told Jake any of this?”
“No. I was hoping I’d call you and you’d tell me I was crazy.”
“And I wish I could, but everything you’re saying makes sense. I’m almost back to the building. Gather together anyone you know we can trust and meet me by the front door.”
“What are we gonna do?” I asked, already moving toward the kitchen staff.
“We’ll scour the building. If Dylan’s there, we’ll find her.”
“Okay, see you soon.” I disconnected before either of us could ask what we’d do if Dylan wasn’t in the building.
Now with a sense of purpose, I marched into the kitchen. The building was huge, and Asher and I would need help with the search. Since dinner had been served before the auction, the staff was busy cleaning up. I pulled Stacy aside and told her the situation.
“What can we do?” Stacy asked after she hugged me.
“Grab the staff and tell them to start searching for Dylan anywhere the guests don’t typically go.”
Stacy nodded. “Got it.” She frowned. “So we’re looking for your friend? The one in the green dress?”
The meaning behind her question constricted my throat. What if they found Dylan? What if she was dead? No, I refused to believe that. “Dylan is smart and resourceful. She’ll be okay. They probably took her out of here, but if she had the chance she would have left something behind. Some sort of clue that would lead us to her. Maybe she Cinderella’d it and left a glass slipper behind, or an earring, or maybe her cell phone. I don’t know, but if she left us something, we have to find it.”
“Yes ma’am, we will,” Stacy assured me.
“Tell the staff I’m offering a reward. If one of them finds Dylan or the clue that leads us to her, the whole staff will get two thousand dollars apiece.”
“Addison, that’s extremely generous, but you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t, Stacy, but I want to. This means a lot to me. Please, get them started as soon as possible.”
Stacy called her workers to follow her, and we headed for the front door.
Asher rushed through the doorway. I waved him over. “What’s all this?” he asked.
I watched as Stacy spoke to the group. “The cavalry. They’re gonna help us search.”
“Good thinking, Addie.” Asher draped his arm over my shoulder. “Let’s get started.”
Asher and I headed in the opposite direction of Stacy’s group and started searching. We stayed together, opening closets, large cabinets, anywhere someone might stash something as big as a body. With each doorknob I turned, I worried I’d find Dylan’s body on the other side.
We were a little over five minutes into the search when my cell phone rang. Stacy’s name came across. Dreading the news we were about to receive, I put it on speaker so I wouldn’t have to repeat anything to Asher.