Laurel spent the afternoon waiting and worrying. She had missed Helen’s call, which had come in while she was in the meeting with John and Aaron. Helen’s message was short: she’d call Laurel back later in the day. Not a word about David Adams or Matt. Of course, Laurel tried reaching Helen. She wanted to tell her about Anne’s disappearance and discuss what they could do to find her.
Also during the meeting, Laurel had missed a call from Jenna, who left a message wanting to know why Laurel split from the gym without saying goodbye. Laurel let the message play out and decided she wouldn’t return Jenna’s call until later in the day. With any luck, Jenna would be onto her next crisis and would have forgotten all about the gym incident.
She sat at her desk, checking the rewrites for one of the junior staff writers, an article about a new method of birth control that targeted male sperm. Losing her place for the third time, Laurel realized working was impossible. She couldn’t stop thinking about Aaron, both the man and the detective. He really got to her with his hostile attitude and the note from Anne. A thought flitted across her mind that she might be missing him, but she immediately brushed it aside.
Forget him, girl. You two are so over. You need a break. Tossing the pencil onto the pile of notes stacked on her desk, she slipped into her jacket, grabbed her purse, and headed for the elevator.
“If John’s looking for me, tell him I had to run an errand,” she tossed over her shoulder to Sheena, the receptionist, just as the elevator doors closed, leaving no opportunity for questions.
Once down on the street, Laurel walked east, away from the tourists filing out of their Wednesday matinees and clogging the pavement with their packages and souvenirs. It was a mild day and the easy breeze spiraling down the avenue from Central Park felt good against her face. Laurel stopped for a double cappuccino to go and sprinkled its foamy top with a generous coating of chocolate, her comfort food of choice. Then, she continued heading east until she reached Madison Avenue.
Her brain caught up with her body as she realized she was heading toward her dad’s store and the solace of its familiar surroundings.
A bell chimed softly as she opened the door and walked in. Mike looked up from behind the display of cigars he was rearranging and beamed at her. “Hey, baby girl, it’s you! Not still mad at me, are you?”
Grinning, Laurel walked up to her father, leaned over the counter and gave him a big hug. “How could I be mad at someone who loves me like crazy and proves it by poking into my business every chance he gets?” She pulled back and tweaked his nose playfully to make her point.
“Right, how could you?” He gave her a hug of his own. “Playing hooky again this afternoon?” He came around from behind the counter and took her arm. “John’s going to dock your pay. As long as you’re here, though, can you stay a few minutes? Let’s go into the back.” The words rushed out as he guided Laurel toward the door of his private office.
“Chris,” he called to an associate who was helping a customer choose a humidor for her husband, “watch the store for a minute, please.”
When Mike and Laurel were settled at the small table that served as his desk, his bar, his computer station and his visitor center, he looked at her. “So, what’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Laurel said. It’s this story I’m—”
“You know my feelings about that.” His sharp reply cut her off before she could finish.
“Wait.” Laurel held up her hand. “Let me get this out.” She sighed and sat back, toying with the coffee container on the table in front of her. “I know it’s turning into something more than a simple story.” She took a deep breath to prepare herself for the reaction she imagined her next words would have. “Aaron Gerrard was waiting for me in John’s office when I got to work this morning.”
When Mike didn’t interrupt her or make a fuss, Laurel looked at him quizzically. “The woman in Pennsylvania, Anne Ellsworth, has disappeared. I don’t know what to do. On some level, I feel responsible.” She covered her face with her hands.
Mike reached over and took his daughter’s hands in his. “I know all about it. John called me right after Aaron left. He’s worried about you putting yourself in danger. So am I.”
“Damn it, I’m not the one in danger. Anne is. I should have known John would do something like that. Run right to you and get you on my case, too.” Laurel pulled back from her father. “I have to ask you something. When John called, did you tell him about me hiring Helen?”
“No, I didn’t. And that’s not because I was embarrassed about barging into your meeting with her. John didn’t mention her, so I figured you didn’t tell him about her yet. I was planning to speak to you about all of this first.”
“I need you to promise you won’t mention her to John just yet,” she said. “You have to trust me on this. I will tell him, but after I talk to Helen again and ask her to look into Anne’s disappearance. I don’t want him to stop the story now. If he hears I hired Helen, he might. Promise?”
“Okay,” Mike said. “I won’t mention it for now if you promise me you’ll stay away from anything that looks like it could be dangerous.”
“Thanks. I’ll be careful. I always am.” Laurel rose from her chair and kissed her father. “Now, I’d better get back before they send out scouts to look for me.”