I went straight to purple house first, and Pepper’s housemates didn’t seem worried. “She went to the mini-mart,” Wren told me.
“How long ago?” I asked. The girls on the couch looked between me and Frankie uncertainly.
“Maybe half an hour, she should be back any minute,” Wren said, unconcerned.
Lexi added, “She was walking, so I think she was only getting a couple things.”
“Have you guys seen Clayton Dennison today?” Frankie asked, getting to the point.
The girls seemed more alert now, sensing that this might be important. I hadn’t decided yet. She might walk in that door any second, and then we could handle everything together.
The girls knew who Clayton was but they shook their heads no, until Gina said, “He might have been at the race this morning. I thought I saw him for a second but I’m not sure.”
“If you see him, call me immediately, okay?” I asked them.
“Is something wrong? Should we be worried?” Lexi asked.
I glanced at Frankie, who was not hiding his emotions very well. He was tense as hell. “Yeah, but we’ve just got to find her, and we’ll explain later,” I said, realizing that the girls were bound to have a ton of questions, and I couldn’t spend time answering them. I just had a feeling that Pepper needed me right now, and when we left, I told Frankie to call the cops while I kept looking for her. She wasn’t at the mini-mart, or Shadow Lane either, or my apartment, and there really weren’t any other places she could be. Next, I went to Clayton’s parents’ house, but his mom said he wasn’t home. As far as she knew, he was still in Denver.
I was driving around town now, my panic mounting, when I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Is this Jace Wilder?” a male voice asked nervously.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s Matt Rifkin,” he replied hesitantly. “I was a senior when you were a freshman. We were on the baseball team together at Public.”
Oh yeah, I vaguely remembered him. He was a tall guy, a little overweight but a decent hitter. Why the hell was he calling me right now? This was not what I needed.
“Yeah, I remember you – listen, Matt, this isn’t a good time to catch up,” I told him.
“I’m not calling for that,” he said. “I just, I thought I should call you because I just saw Pepper Jones.”
“What? Where?” I interrupted him.
“I work the front desk at the Marriott in Brockton, and I was going into the back office when I saw her come in a side door with Clayton Dennison.”
I was already turning toward the Marriott, but I kept listening, my insides twisting with panic. “I wasn’t sure whether to call you, but I know she’s like, um, your girlfriend, or best friend or something, and she looked a little, well, nervous? I decided it wasn’t my place, but then I got to thinking, and I got your number from –”
I cut him off. If he wanted to get in my good graces, be part of my inner circle or something, I couldn’t’ve cared less right then. I just needed information. “How long ago?”
“What?”
“When did you see her?” I thought I might be shouting or growling but it didn’t matter.
“Oh, um, maybe half an hour ago.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes. Find out what room he’s in and go in there. Get security.”
“Dude, I don’t really have the authority…”
“Just do it!” I yelled. “She’s in trouble and he’s dangerous.”
I hung up and focused on getting there as fast as possible.