Jonathan began cleaning up the studio corner of his loft at half past four, dipping brushes, snapping up drop cloths. He changed the angle of the painting he was working on so he could see it as he moved around the room.
It was time to head out to meet Ann. He waited for the twinge of resentment that usually came when he was forced to stop work, the grim itch that began under his skin and ended with the tightening of his jaw. But nothing happened.
He found himself curious about how it would feel if Ann intruded on one of his truly feverish spells, when his art was erupting from him, passing from his mind to the canvas so furiously that his forearm cramped and his senses stopped working. Those were the times he didn’t hear the phone ring or smell a pot burning in the kitchen. Would he resent her then, if she pulled him away from that?
He punched his arms into his jacket and realized he couldn’t imagine any scenario where Ann would make an unwelcome claim on his time. In fact, she never made demands on him, and frequently bucked if he made any on her. She seemed to accept as fact that he would show up each day before she left the office, but did so in a way that let him know that she understood it was useless to try to dissuade him.
He stepped outside, locked the door and started walking, his hands shoved into his pockets, humming to himself.
He was at Ann’s office within twenty minutes. When he reached her floor he strolled into the reception area and waved to her secretary, who happened to be on the phone. Without stopping or waiting for Dora to return his greeting, he casually walked into Ann’s office, expecting to find her there.
Not only was she absent, her desk was a mess, with reams of paper spread out in no particular order. This wasn’t like Ann, he thought, as he noted that her computer was on, her briefcase open on the floor with files spilling from it.
Jonathan pivoted and headed back out to speak with Dora. “Hey,” he said once she was off the phone. “Where’s your fearless leader?”
“I thought she was with you.”
“And why would you think that?”
“Well, she rushed out of here around two-thirty, just after she spoke with you.”
Jonathan felt a swish of unease. “Okay. I’ll try her cell phone.” He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket, stepped back into Ann’s office and dialed.
His thoughts fractured when he realized that Ann’s purse was ringing at his feet. He bent over and reached for the purse, shoving his hand into each compartment until his fingers closed over her cell phone. His unease mushroomed. She never went anywhere without her phone.
Jonathan rocketed into motion. He approached Dora one more time and asked what Ann’s exact words were when she left.
She blinked at him. “That she had to go out.”
“What else?”
“Nothing. I asked where, but she didn’t answer. So I thought—”
“Yes, I know. That she was going to meet me.” Jonathan took a step back. What the hell was going on here? They had agreed that he would pick her up at the normal time, so something had obviously come up. Okay, he thought. Where—and when—had it become carved in stone that she had to report her every move to him?
Well, she did. Under the circumstances, she damned well better. Jonathan realized he was angry. Extremely angry. Angry enough to want to holler at her, pick her up off her feet and give her a good shake, until she got it into her thick head that he loved her…
Whoa.
He pulled his thoughts up short. That was something he was going to have to consider later, after he found her. He headed for the elevator, took it down and grabbed a cab. He went to the Savannah.
He told the driver to wait and he jogged into the lobby. The concierge recognized him.
“Hey, do me a favor and save me a trip upstairs,” Jonathan said. “Could you call and see if Ms. Lesage is in?”
“Of course. Shall I tell her to come down?”
“No. If she’s there, I’ll go up.”
The guy stood with the phone pressed to his ear for thirty seconds, a minute; not speaking, waiting. “Nothing, sir,” he finally said, hanging up. “No answer.”
“Damn it.” Jonathan looked at the man and all but shouted, “Have you seen her today at all?”
“No, sir.”
“What time did you come on duty?”
“Eight this morning.”
She’d left his place around the same time, Jonathan thought. That covered this base, then. He returned to the cab.
Now where? She didn’t regularly go to a gym—sporadically, she used the one in her building. She hadn’t had an appointment, or Dora would have known about it. Had something especially exciting happened with the doll? If it had, she would have called Felicia.
“Where to?” the driver asked him.
“Hold on.” He yanked his cell phone free and called his mother.
Cal answered. Jonathan realized he was diving ahead with no particular plan. Damn it, Felicia didn’t need another worry.
“Cal, a quick question,” he said. “Just answer with a yes or a no.”
“Yes, she is right here, on the divan.”
Smart man, Jonathan thought. “Have you seen Ann today? Have you heard from her?”
“No and no.”
Damn! “Have you been there all day?”
“I was gone from noon until three. I stopped in at my office to see a few patients.” Cal was nearly retired, but he wouldn’t take the last step.
Jonathan felt his emotions spiraling out of control. He had to stay calm. He had to think, figure out what was going on and where Ann could be. Dora had said that she had taken off at about 2:30, so it was conceivable that Cal might have missed her. “Can you ask Francesca?” The housekeeper never went anywhere these days, had barely left the apartment since his mother became ill.
“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll get back to you,” Cal said.
“My cell.”
Jonathan disconnected. He had one last thought. He gave the driver his own address. Maybe she’d rushed off somewhere, then figured it was easiest to just head home rather than return to the office for her briefcase and purse.
Sure. He was grasping for straws.
Fifteen minutes later, Jonathan stood in his own doorway. The place was silent as a tomb, looking just as he had left it, except now the quiet bothered him.
“Ann!” he shouted anyway. He could have sworn he heard his voice echo. She wasn’t here.
Something like fear caused his lips to shudder. His cell phone went off. He still held it in his hand but had forgotten about it.
It rang again.
Please let it be her, he was thinking
“She hasn’t been here,” Cal said. “Is there trouble?”
He didn’t know how much to divulge.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m heading back to her office. If she shows up at mom’s or if you hear from her, tell her to call me.”
“I will,” Cal said.
He didn’t remember hanging up or putting his phone away. His sense of foreboding was now so strong it seemed to crush his ability to reason. Heading outside he had only one purpose in mind, and that was to find her, as quickly as possible.