Zach hesitated for a moment with his hand on the gearshift of his pickup truck before he pulled out of the downtown lot. “We need to find Ashley.”
“Now? Do you think she’s in trouble?” Bridget searched his face, his concern mirrored in her eyes.
“I’d feel better if I talked to her.”
Bridget tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My sister’s in town and staying at my place. She’ll wonder where I am if I don’t get home by a certain time, Agent Bryant.”
“Call me Zach. You okay if I call you Bridget?”
“Yes, sure.” She smoothed out the fabric of her skirt over her thighs. This young woman dressed more conservatively than most women her age. He found it charming.
“I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot in the café.”
Bridget shrugged.
“I can come off gruff. I’m used to dealing with...” he tipped his head “...all sorts of people who you probably wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents.” He gave her an apologetic smile, and she rewarded him with one in return. One of her eye teeth was slightly crooked. Again, charming. He shook his head to dismiss the distracting thoughts. Maybe he really did need this leave. He was getting soft. Losing his edge.
“And I’m sorry I snapped when you offered me a ride home.” She balled up her hands in her lap, then straightened her fingers to check out her scuffed palm. “This is so far out of my comfort zone. Dr. Ryan is such a nice guy.” She gently brushed her fingers across her palm. “I can’t imagine why he’d get involved with something like this.” Her lips thinned into a grimace. “Do you think he paid someone to hurt me?”
“My office will look into it.”
Bridget leaned back on the headrest and turned to face him. “Your office? I know you said you were on vacation, but can’t you look into it?” Her soft voice washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to say yes, but it wasn’t his call. He had been told in no uncertain terms that he had to take some time off. He had a strong feeling that he was at a pivotal time in his career, and this leave wasn’t a request.
“I recently came off a rough case.” He cleared his throat, picking his words carefully. “I was asked to take leave.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“I guess you could call it standard protocol when things don’t go exactly right on a case.” He wasn’t about to tell her someone died because of his recklessness.
Bridget rolled her head to look out the passenger window. “I’m sorry, I assumed...” She looked back in his direction. “I shouldn’t have done that. Obviously, you met me as a favor to Ashley.” He wondered how much Ashley had told him about their history. About her friendship with his sister. “Now what? You give me the name of someone else in your office?”
“Well, let’s hold off on that. What I’d like to do first is check on Ashley. Can we do that real quick? Then I’ll get you home.” He ran a hand roughly over his jaw. He hadn’t been clean-shaven in months, and he was still getting used to the stubble. “Maybe call your sister. Give her a heads-up that you’re going to be late.”
“I can’t call her. I don’t have her number.” Her monotone made it hard to determine if she was being sarcastic.
Zach made a noise with his lips and pulled out of the city parking lot. “You know where Ashley lives?”
“I don’t know her address.” Her eyes brightened. “But I can show you. I’ve been to her house.” She shifted in her seat. “Turn right here.” Bridget tugged on the strap of her seat belt. “Ashley never told me how she knew you,” she said. “Oh, wait, turn here.”
“Ashley was a friend of my sister’s when they were in high school.” That’s all Bridget needed to know. His little sister’s bright blue eyes flashed in his mind’s eye. He hadn’t seen her beautiful face in over seven years. He had been stationed in the Middle East when he got the call that she was dead.
“Did they have a falling-out? Oh, wait—” Bridget pointed toward the street on the left. “Turn at the stop sign.”
Zach turned, happy to avoid the question. “Is her house on this street?”
“Yes. There.” Bridget pointed to a neat double on the right. It had two entrances.
Zach pulled his truck up alongside the curb. It didn’t appear that anyone had followed them. Four years as a DEA agent did that to a person.
They climbed out of the truck and approached her apartment. “Her unit’s on the left.” Bridget checked her phone again.
“Still no word?”
“No.” Bridget looked up at him with worried eyes. “This is so unlike her. She’s one of those people who responds to texts. Always.”
Zach knocked on the front door. Deep inside somewhere, a dog barked. “She have a dog?”
“The neighbor does.” She pointed to the window next door. A lace curtain danced in time with the frantic jumping of what Zach’s mother used to call a yippy dog. Everything annoyed his mother.
“I’m going to walk around the outside. See if anything looks out of place.”
Bridget crossed her arms and cupped her elbows. For a fraction of a beat, Zach wondered what her story was. All he knew about her was what he’d gotten from Ashley—Bridget was a nursing student working as a nurse’s aide at the clinic. She had a look of innocence about her that made him wonder if she’d get beaten down by the demanding nature of nursing. The job had eaten his weak-willed mother alive and had destroyed their family.
He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck and turned his attention to a car approaching. Easier to throw himself into work than deal with his own demons. A vehicle that had traveled the salted streets of more than a decade of winters pulled into the driveway.
A female driver on the plus side of sixty took her sweet time and finally emerged with a bundle of Target bags in both hands. “Can I help you?” she asked, curiosity more than wariness rounding her eyes.
“Do you live here?” He pointed to the unit next to Ashley’s.
“Yes. Who wants to know?” She transferred one of the plastic bags to free up a hand.
Zach dug out his credentials and flashed them at her. Most people didn’t check them out; this woman proved the exception and squinted, drawing closer to check out his ID. “DEA? What’s going on?” Her pale eyebrows rose above the thick frames of her glasses.
“I’m looking for your neighbor Ashley Meadows. When was the last time you saw her?”
The woman’s Target high went poof, and her features grew pinched. “Did something happen to her?” She pointed to her excited dog at the window. “Barney was barking at something last night around midnight.”
Next to him Bridget sucked in a breath.
“Did you happen to look outside when your dog was barking last night?” Zach asked, wondering if he’d catch a break.
“Only caught a pair of headlights pulling away.” She adjusted the plastic bags again. “Not sure if that’s what had my Barney all wound up or not. Listen, I need to put these bags down. I’m sorry I don’t have more information for you.” The woman awkwardly fished for something in her purse while juggling the bags. If Zach hadn’t been so anxious to locate Ashley, he would have offered to carry her bags in for her.
“Are you her landlord?” Zach asked. Maybe she’d have keys to the apartment.
“No, someone else owns the house. We both rent.” The woman frowned. “I really need to get these things inside.”
Zach tipped his head. “Please, go. Sorry to keep you. Thanks for your time.”
“Never a dull moment,” the older woman muttered as she stepped up on the stoop and unlocked her front door.
Zach scanned the street. “Does Ashley have a car?”
“Yes.” Bridget frowned and looked around. “I don’t see it.”
“Well, let me take a walk around the property.” Zach brushed his hand on Bridget’s elbow. “Maybe you should wait in the truck.”
“I’d rather stick with you, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” Zach’s pulse roared in his ears, his naturally honed radar on alert. Something was definitely off here. “Do me a favor and stick close.”
They circled the garage and crossed the back lawn, a few weeks past due for a cut, unlike the tidy front yard. He stepped up on the concrete back patio, and Bridget followed. Each unit had a single door leading to the patio. A few dirty white plastic chairs were arranged in a circle. Perhaps Ashley had had some friends over. The vertical slats of the blinds covering the neighbor’s back doors moved, revealing a more subdued Barney. Perhaps with his master safely inside, he was more intrigued by the strangers than concerned.
“What are you looking for?” Bridget asked, rolling up on the balls of her feet.
“I want to make sure nothing’s out of order.”
Bridget crossed her arms again and trembled.
Zach reached for the handle on the back door, twisted it and muttered when it popped open. He pivoted and locked gazes with Bridget. “Stay here.” He reached for his gun strapped to his ankle under his jeans. With one hand, he pushed the door open wide, and with the other, he aimed his gun into the heavily shadowed apartment of Ashley Meadows.
As she stood in Ashley’s backyard, Bridget’s legs wobbled, and the blue sky and green trees went monochromatic. She dragged one of the white plastic chairs closer to the dirty siding and sat down. Her stomach threatened to revolt, and she was grateful she hadn’t drunk that coffee Zach bought her at the café. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.
God, please let Ashley be okay.
A lifetime of her father’s, the bishop’s, the entire Amish community’s warnings about staying separate from the evils of the outside world rang in her ears. Fortunately for her, she wouldn’t have to see them gloat, because she wasn’t welcome in her hometown of Hickory Lane. Either way, it wasn’t in their nature to gloat. The goal had been to strike fear in the hearts of the youth so that they’d never leave. However, Bridget’s passion had overridden their caution, and look at her now. Bouncing her legs with nervous energy while a DEA agent searched her friend’s apartment.
Oh, why did I stick my nose into someone else’s business? I should have done my job and gone to school. Today was my last day at that clinic anyway... Please, please let Ashley be okay.
Bridget tucked the folds of her skirt under her thighs, then pulled out the fabric and smoothed it. Her stress had exceeded the heart-racing, mind-scrambling, nausea-inducing levels she’d experienced the night before she jumped the fence and left Hickory Lane.
Look how that turned out.
Self-doubt had a way of ramping up her worst fears.
Bridget stood and shook out her tingling hands. A moment later, Zach appeared in the doorway. He had holstered his gun and concealed it under his pant leg. “Ashley’s not here.”
“No?” Her squeaky voice could barely be heard above her thrumming pulse. Was that good or bad?
The intensity in his eyes suggested the latter. She stepped inside without taking his offered hand. He closed the door behind them, trapping them with the stale scent of day-old garbage and something Bridget couldn’t quite identify.
“I need you to tell me if you notice anything missing.”
Bridget scanned the room, taking in the little details of Ashley’s life: a sweatshirt tossed aside, a pair of shoes kicked off, dirty dishes on the counter. “I don’t know.”
Zach walked toward the back hallway. “How about in her bedroom?”
Bridget slowed. “Her bedroom? Aren’t we invading her privacy?”
“We need to find Ashley.” When Bridget didn’t immediately respond, Zach added, “She’ll understand.”
Zach palmed the door to open it all the way. Ashley’s bed was unmade, and one sneaker was upturned on the hardwood floor. Perhaps the other one had been kicked under the bed. Zach gestured to the closet with his chin. “There’s not a lot of clothes.” He pulled open a couple of drawers in the only dresser. “Not much in here, either.”
The whooshing in Bridget’s head grew louder. “Do you think she took off somewhere?”
He tilted his head as if considering. Why would Ashley have taken off when they had plans to meet the DEA agent? Bridget walked out of the bedroom and went into the bathroom. She didn’t know what she was looking for—maybe proof that her coworker had left on her own. Bridget had made up for lost time after growing up without a TV—she’d watched her fill since moving to Buffalo. Didn’t bad guys stuff clothes into a suitcase to make it look like their victim left?
Bridget tugged on the edge of the bathroom mirror. Zach lingered in her peripheral vision. It opened with a click, revealing a medicine cabinet. She picked up a prescription bottle. “Allergy meds.” She put them back in the cabinet.
Zach leaned on the bathroom door frame. “How well do you know Ashley?”
“I met her my sophomore year in an advanced biology class. She recommended me when there was an opening at the clinic. We’ve worked together for about two years.” Bridget knew a nonanswer when she heard it. How well did she really know Ashley? “She wouldn’t just up and go. I know that.” Wouldn’t her Amish neighbors have said the same thing about her? How many hearts had she broken when she ran away in the middle of the night?
Bridget brushed past Zach on her way to the family room. Everything seemed mostly where it should be. “Ashley wasn’t really neat, so it’s hard to know if anything is out of place.” She twirled a long strand of her hair around her finger, then let it drop. She was about to ask Zach for his take when a black object poking out from under the couch caught her attention. She bent down and scooped it up. She palmed the weight of the cell phone, and the screen lit up revealing all the missed texts, mostly from Bridget.
Where are you?
You’re late.
Is everything okay?
Bridget’s hand began to tremble. Everything was definitely not okay. Behind the text bubbles, her eye was drawn to the wallpaper image: a selfie of Ashley and Bridget sticking their tongues out with Dr. Seth Ryan in the background throwing double peace signs. A crack that had splintered across the screen distorted the image.
Bridget handed the phone to Zach, fighting back her growing panic. “Ashley would never have gone anywhere without her phone.”