Death Becomes Him - 5

With things settled, at least for the moment, Trent took off for Rory’s apartment. When he got there the result was the same as it had been earlier in the day. He considered buzzing the building manager to ask if he could let him into the apartment but decided that would be an effort in futility. He wasn’t a police officer and had no valid reason to be allowed inside. At least not until Rory had been missing for more than a couple of days.

Please, God, don’t let that be the case. Let it be something stupid like… he ran into an old friend and they’re… off doing something and lost track of time.

He really hoped that was the case, as much as it would piss him off if Rory had hooked up with some ex-lover and ended up at the man’s place for a one night stand.

A very long one, but still better than the alternative, which is that something happened to him.

Worried and restless because there didn’t seem to be anything he could do right now, Trent returned to the Quarter. He stopped at Johnny’s for a hot sausage po-boy that he ate as he walked back to the tour company. No one was around when he got there, unsurprisingly since the first tours of the evening would be underway. Settling down on the low step in front of the locked door, Trent waited.

An hour later the guides returned. The first question each one asked was if Trent had found Rory, or at least heard from him. He said he hadn’t, then waited with them until tourists arrived for the next tours. By then he was ready to leave. If Rory hadn’t appeared already, the chances were he wasn’t going to, and Trent did have his own job, which required he get at least some sleep.

For the next two days he rotated between the hotel, Rory’s apartment and the tour company. There was no sign of Rory, and no one had heard from him. Finally, Trent decided to talk to the manager of Rory’s building. He convinced the man that Rory seemed to be among the missing and that he was worried he might be sick and unable to even answer his phone.

The manager agreed to let Trent into the apartment as long as he was present. The first thing that met them when the man opened the door was a musty odor that to Trent’s way of thinking meant no one had been there since the last time he’d spoken with Rory three nights ago. As far as he could tell nothing had been disturbed and nothing was missing. Thanking the manager, he left, heading back home.

A fast online check let him know what sort of information he should give the police if he was going to file a missing person’s report. He started with Rory’s description, six-one, black hair, deep blue eyes, and slender but muscular. Age, twenty-six. He found a picture they’d taken together six months earlier when they’d decided on a whim to try out a riverboat trip, and attached it to the paper.

Then he called Rory’s parents. He hadn’t before, not wanting to worry them, but knew he had to bite the bullet now, if for no other reason than to find out if Rory had contacted them. He’d feel pretty stupid filing the report only to discover Rory had, for some unknown reason, gone back home.