Something’s terribly wrong.
Over the next hour, I begin to pace. I haven’t heard from Sybil since she was in my office, heading to the spa.
The spa.
It takes half a second to get the number and one minute to learn Sybil never showed up for her appointment.
Real fear punches me in the gut.
“Sybil, where the hell are you?”
5
MARIA
With my overly active imagination, I have Sybil kidnapped and headed for horrible things within a nanosecond. My imagination is not my friend.
There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation why Sybil never made it to the spa.
What if she got in a wreck?
My hands fly to my face, squishing my cheeks together and pushing my lips out. A wreck is far more likely than a kidnapping. It’s equally bad and potentially worse.
Think. Think. Think.
If Sybil got in a wreck, they would notify next of kin.
Do I call her parents?
I don’t want to bother them. Her father is in and out of the hospital, dealing with leukemia. The last thing he needs is a panicked phone call from me.
What else?
I tap my fingers on my desk, but for the life of me, I can’t think where she could be. Sybil was headed to the spa. Maybe something happened in the garage? She hates garages; says they’re spooky places where nefarious men wait on pretty girls heading to their cars alone.
What if some guy nabbed her and shoved her in the back of his trunk? What if she’s there right now, banging on the trunk and screaming for help?
Okay, that’s simply ridiculous. He wouldn’t leave the car in the garage. Mr. Nefarious would hightail it out of there.
See? This is where my mind goes.
The urge to run to the garage overwhelms me, but what am I going to do?
I could call security and have them take a look.
But what am I going to tell them? I have no proof Sybil got nabbed in the garage. There’s no way to know if she was involved in an accident. I could call the hospitals, but again, I’m not immediate family. They won’t release any information.
Now I pace.
Up and down the long bank of floor-to-ceiling glass, I stop at the corners and peer out at the city below. Can I see any signs of an accident? No, of course I can’t.
So, what can I do? What can I do that doesn’t make me look like a raving lunatic?
Another glance at my phone reveals the same thing from the last hundred times I looked.
Nothing.
No texts.
No calls.
Nada.
It’s as if Sybil vanished off the surface of the planet. My hands tremble as I shove my phone back in my pocket. My stomach twists in knots, churning until I’m sick to my stomach.
I’m a total mess. There’s probably a simple explanation and I’m working myself into knots over nothing.
What can I do?
Of all things, my mother’s voice speaks in my head. If you lose something, the best way to find it is to go to the place you last saw it.
Okay.
The last place I saw Sybil was my office.
That doesn’t help.
No. That’s not right. The last place I saw her was at the elevator.
I race to the elevator and mash the down button.
My heart bangs away inside my chest, sending adrenaline-fueled fear coursing through my body. My hands shake. My breaths become shallow and rapid. That queasy sensation in my stomach turns into a full-on riot.
I’m going to be sick.
I race to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Holding my hair to the side, I empty the contents of my stomach. I hate throwing up. My entire body shakes with this weird, unsettled feeling. When I’m convinced there’s nothing left in my stomach, I head to the sink, where I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face.
Staring at my reflection, I barely recognize the woman looking back at me. All color is gone from her face. Red lines her eyes.
Not a good look on me.
I put myself together and head back to the elevator.
Technically, the last place I saw Sybil was when she entered the elevator. She would’ve gone down to the employee levels of the parking garage. I remember her saying something about a particular level, but for the life of me, I can’t remember which one. There are three employee levels of the garage sitting beneath the Belvedere.
I jab the button marked EL-1: employee level 1. The elevator doors close so damn slowly, and the elevator drops the twenty-plus floors moving with the speed of molasses. Each floor I pass comes with a little ding until I finally look out onto employee parking.
“Okay.” I brush back the hair from my face. “Sybil drives a …”
Shit! I have no idea what kind of car Sybil is driving today. I mean, I know what her car looks like, but her car is in the shop.
She drove a loaner.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
“Miss Rossi?” The deep timbre of Gerald’s voice pulls me up short. My ever-present security team followed me down. They’re sneaky shits like that.
I wipe the tears on my cheek and slowly turn around.
“Yes, Gerald?”
“If you want to head out, I’m happy to take you.”
Dear Gerald, you don’t deserve my anger.
“Um, I wasn’t trying to go anywhere. I just remembered my friend said she brought me something for tonight’s event. It’s in the trunk of her car, but silly me, I left the keys upstairs.”
“Of course,” Gerald gestures toward the elevator.
Gerald’s nice.
Let me qualify that. As a human, he’s a nice guy, but as one of the many security tasked with watching over me, I hate him for taking the job. Yet again, I don’t know how they followed me, or how they got here so quick, but sure as shit, three of them are here.
“Sorry, guys.” I wave to Stefan and Duke. “No need to bother yourselves. I’ll just head back upstairs and give her a call. I should have her bring it to me anyway.” I give a goofy shrug.
Shit.
The Gala.
I roll my wrist to check the time. I’ve got a little over an hour before my presence is required. The Gala starts promptly at five. There’s an hour of meet and greet, followed by a silent auction, then dinner is served. The intern auction follows.
The whole thing shuts down by nine.
Most of our donors are older couples who prefer heading home before the bewitching hour. It also serves the needs of the younger crowd. Most of them don’t head out to the clubs until at least nine or ten. They get to go to the Gala and have a night on the town. It’s win-win for all involved.
Except for me.
Nine is hours away.
As the CEO, my presence is required, and Mother will be there. She’ll arrive promptly at five and leave no later than eight. That leaves me less than an hour to find Sybil and get dressed for the Gala.
Stefan and Duke return polite smiles. I don’t know if I convince them or not. All that matters to them is that I’m not allowed to leave without them by my side.
Nice guys. Shit job.
I hate them for contributing to my imprisonment.
Duke pushes the button for the elevator and all four of us ride back to the twenty-second floor. They walk me to the door of my office, then politely excuse themselves.
A glance at the clock reveals too much time has passed.
I barely have time to get ready. My hairdresser and makeup specialist will be here in less than half an hour.