Making the Rent the Hard Way - 47

 

 A few weeks later, I was hired by a man who wanted me to find his missing daughter. In this case, it meant I had to go to the college town where she was living and going to school. As it turned out, she wasn't missing. She was avoiding her overly controlling family by not answering their calls or emails.

"Father and Mother even called my friends," she'd told me angrily when I finally located her, "telling them they'd better get me to return their calls or I'd be sorry. Meaning Father would stop paying my tuition if I didn't, I'm sure." She stormed over to the window in her apartment, staring out. "Not that I give a damn. I've got a job now, so I can handle it myself." She turned to look at me. "So you can tell him to suck it up. I'm old enough to know what I want, and that's not having my life run by them anymore."

I understood and promised to deliver the message. The whole thing—the trip out there, finding then talking to her, then back home again—had taken three days. The first day Luca and I had called each other three times. Yes, I missed him and he missed me.

The second day he'd left me an early morning text saying he had a meeting with a client and wouldn't be available. No 'I love you', just that. When I'd called that afternoon, it had gone to his voicemail, so I'd figured he was busy working on the client's project. He usually turned his phone off when he did that. When he hadn't answered that evening, I had been worried, but not terribly. He sometimes wined and dined a client once the job was finished, which I'd decided was probably what was happening. The next day I'd called when I got up and had reached his voicemail again. I'd left a message, of course. He hadn't called back by the time I'd finally located my client's daughter and had my talk with her. I'd tried again on my way to the airport, to tell him when I'd be arriving home. Nothing.

The minute I got off the plane I made another, unsuccessful call. So instead of going straight to my place, I went to his. I let myself in, dropping my bag by the front door as I called his name. My voice echoed through what I discovered was an empty apartment. It brought back memories of the first time I'd been there, looking for him for Farnham. Nothing was missing—except Luca.

I immediately grabbed my bag, tossing it in the back of my car, then headed to The Lycan Den, hoping Rocky was there and could tell me what was going on. He could, sort of, and it wasn't good.

"Luca came in two nights ago," Rocky said. "He was lonely with you out of town and wanted some company. Don't worry…" He chuckled. "My company. He wasn't cruising."

"I didn't think he would be," I replied, even though that thought had crossed my mind for a mini-second. "And?"

"Right around closing time he got a call. When it was over, he said he had to go, left his half-finished drink, and took off on foot."

"Have you heard from him since?"

"Nope. I take it from your questions that you haven't either."

I shook my head. "Not a word, after the first day I was gone, other than one short text the second morning."   

"Cade, stop worrying. Whatever's going on, he's fine. He can take care of himself."

I looked hard at Rocky. "Meaning you think something has happened to him."

He had the grace not to lie to try to appease me. "That thought has crossed my mind. I tried twice to get in touch with him. Nada."

"If he does call…"

"I'll let you know right away. The same with you."

"I will."