“Anything particular about the photographs?”
I continued to remember them—the poses she was in, the smile that looked forced on her face. “I don’t know …”
“What else you got?”
I reviewed it all again in my head, wondering if the loss of Dylan was what had caused me to feel that way and I was making something out of nothing. “That’s it.”
“Keep thinking. It’ll come to you.” He linked his hands, resting them on the back of his neck. “Do you want to get some drinks later? I know I could use one, and by then, you should be ready for round two.”
Home was the last place I wanted to be, lost in the darkest of thoughts, agony taking ahold of me. “Yeah,” I agreed. “Tell me where, and I’ll be there.”
Fifty-Two
Before
Ashe
Even though I hadn’t gone to New York, I assumed Pearl’s itinerary stayed the same, and she planned to take the late morning bus back to Boston. Before leaving my apartment, she’d told me she was going to call once she got home, and I knew that would be around the middle of the afternoon. So, when Dylan had asked me to go out to lunch and stop by a pub after, not returning to our place until early evening, I’d expected the light on our answering machine to be blinking when we got back.
But it wasn’t.
Instead of waiting for her to call, I phoned her number.
There was no answer.
Gran had a hard time getting around, and if Pearl wasn’t home, most of my calls in the past had gone unanswered. I assumed her audition had just run longer than planned, and she was taking a later bus, or maybe she was so exhausted when she got back that she went straight to sleep.
I still tried again a few hours later, and no one picked up.
But by the next afternoon, I was done waiting. I went to Pearl’s apartment and knocked on the door. When I heard no movement inside, something in my gut sent me into the stairwell, where I knew she hid a key.
“It’s Ashe,” I called out once I unlocked the door and walked in.
“In here,” Gran replied. “Hurry.”
I let the door slam behind me and found Gran on the floor of her bedroom, only a few feet from the bed.
“Shit, Gran.” I knelt on the carpet in front of her, checking her face and arms, seeing if she was hurt. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Emotion filled every breath, pain deeply etched into her face. “Oh, thank God you’re here.”
“Careful. Something could be broken,” I said, holding her lower back, taking all of her weight as she tried to get into a seated position. “Don’t move. I’m going to call 911.”
I was about to run to the phone when she said, “I think I’m all right. Just give me a moment to catch my breath.”
I kept my hand on her, watching the way she was breathing, looking for signs of pain or a concussion. “How long have you been on the floor?”
She touched her face and looked at her hands after to see if there was blood. From what I could tell, there wasn’t any.
“I don’t know … a while. Maybe a day. Everything is a bit fuzzy since I fell.”
The scent in the air told me it had been that long. I didn’t want to mention it and embarrass her, but I also wanted her to know I would help in any way.
“Do you want me to run you a bath? Or grab you a change of clothes?” I paused for a few seconds. “Whatever you need, just tell me, Gran.”
Her eyes softened, her hand now on my arm. “I can see why she loves you so much.” She tried lifting herself a little and winced, her lack of energy getting her nowhere. “Bed. Let’s start there. I’ll have you run me a bath once I rest for a little bit.”
I was still unsure if anything was broken, and I didn’t know if moving her was the right thing to do, but I figured anywhere would feel better than the floor.
I slid my arm under her knees, the other stayed around her back, and I hauled her into the air, carefully setting her on her bed. I adjusted her pillows, trying to make her more comfortable.
“I’m fine,” she said, reading my concern. “Just shaken up—that’s all.”
I sat next to her, assessing each of her movements, still undecided about calling an ambulance. “How did you fall?”
“I was on my way to the kitchen to get something to eat and lost my balance. It’s happened before.” She tapped her hands on the tops of her legs. “These frail things don’t boogie like they used to, but Pearl has always been here to pick me right up.”
“Where is Pearl?”
She shook her head. “Honey, I don’t know.”
“Has she called?”
“Hmm. You know, I don’t recall the phone ringing.”
If Gran hadn’t heard any of my calls, that meant she wouldn’t have heard Pearl’s either.
“Give me one second,” I said, and I went into the kitchen, checking the answering machine.
There weren’t any messages, the light a solid red.
My heart started to race as I returned to Gran’s bedroom, sitting in the same place as before. “I’m a little worried, Gran. She was supposed to be back yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” she gasped, telling me she’d most definitely lost track of time since her fall. “That’s not like my dollface. She’s always late but not by this much.”
I racked my brain, trying to come up with where she could be.
But none of this made sense.
Pearl was one of the most considerate, protective people I knew, especially when it came to her grandmother. If she was going to spend an extra night in New York, she certainly would have left a message to tell Gran, and she probably would have called me and asked me to go check on her.
Assuming they didn’t have long distance on their phone, I took out my wallet, finding my calling card, and said, “I’m going to try the hotel in New York and see if she’s still there.”
She nodded, urging me on, and I returned to the kitchen, first calling information to get the hotel’s number and then the direct line to their Midtown location.
Once the front desk answered, I said, “Hi. I’m hoping you can help me. My girlfriend checked in late Friday morning. The room would be under Pearl Daniels. Can you tell me if she extended her stay?”
“Sure, just give me one moment,” the clerk said, the sound of typing filling the background. “Our records show Ms. Daniels never checked in.”
My hands started to shake. “What do you mean?”
“The reservation shows Ms. Daniels was scheduled to arrive Friday and depart on Monday, but she never checked in. Our no-show policy states that a one-night payment is still required, so that was charged to the Visa that was used to book the room.”
That was my credit card. I was the one who had called to get us the room, never bothering to change the payment when I’d gone to Maine instead.
What the fuck is going on?
My hand went into my hair, pulling at the roots. “So, you’re saying Pearl was never there?”
“Yes, sir. That’s what our records show.”
“Could she have checked in under a separate reservation?”