Dial A for Addison (S.A.F.E Detective Agency Book 1)

by Piper Davenport

  Mother scoffed. “That man’s got to be halfway to Canada by now.”

  “He could be.” I shrugged. “But that’s not a gamble I’m willing to take with my best friend’s life. But apparently you are.”

  They both stared at me. “I hope you’re not insinuating that we had anything to do with that fiasco,” Dad said.

  “With that one… no. But with this one… yes. Definitely.”

  “This one?” he asked.

  I glared at my mom. “Yes. Apparently after Mother insulted Dylan, she took off. So now she’s upset and wandering around Portland while some lunatic is gunning for her.”

  Mother’s expression softened. She looked down and shifted her stance. “You can’t blame us for Dylan’s actions.”

  Father had no comment.

  “I can, and I will. And so will Asher. If you hadn’t attacked her, she wouldn’t have taken off. If something happens to her, do you really think either of us will ever forgive you?” I asked.

  Mother looked to Father. When he dropped his gaze, she turned to me. “Addison, be reasonable,” she said.

  “Reasonable?” My voice skipped an octave. “This is me being reasonable. Dylan has thick skin, Mom, so I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve been mean to her. Is it?”

  My mother’s hardened gaze was all the confirmation I needed. I wondered how many times she’d dressed down my bestie when Asher and I weren’t looking. Dylan should have said something, but I knew her well enough to understand why she hadn’t.

  “You know what, Mother? Dylan has way more class than you could ever dream of. In fact, I feel like I’d be doing the “in” crowd of Portland a favor by marching up to that microphone over there and letting them know all about the real Victoria Allen.”

  She gaped at me, her eyes wide.

  “Don’t think I won’t do it. I’ll tell them all about what a pretentious, condescending, two-faced—”

  “What do you want from us?” Father asked.

  I was so relieved I almost cried. I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders, and turned to address him. “Daddy, my best friend is missing. You didn’t come through for her when she was in jail, and I’m still really upset about that. But trust me, if you don’t throw every resource you have at finding her now, neither Ash nor I will ever forgive you.”

  Mother stepped forward, “Addison, that is ridiculous. You can’t possibly think we can use our resources to help that—”

  Father held up a hand, silencing her. We locked gazes. He must have seen how serious I was, because he nodded and pulled out his phone. “I understand, Princess. We’ll do everything we can to help your friend.”

  Addison

  DYLAN HAD VANISHED into thin air. At least she must have, because we couldn’t find her anywhere. Father did come through for us, and soon he, Mike Warner, and Jake had their heads together, organizing search parties. Knowing Dylan couldn’t get too far in her Jimmy Choo heels and Stella McCartney gown, the search teams set to work, scouring a five-block radius of the building.

  Neither Father nor Jake would let me join in on the search, insisting they’d get a lot more done if they didn’t have to worry about me. Asher was out there, though, which kind of pissed me off since he was no more badass than I was. Still, I had an event to run, so I put on my game face and started the auction while my insides churned.

  Wishing I was doing anything other than waiting around, I stood at the back of the auction room, watching people bid. Some painting by a local upcoming artist was on the table, but I couldn’t care less. I scanned the room, wondering how none of these people knew or cared that my best friend was missing.

  Missing. Why hadn’t she called me? Regardless of what my parents did, Dylan would have at least messaged me or Asher before she bolted. She wouldn’t have wanted us to worry.

  A paddle raised and a bid was made by a familiar voice. Randal White sat three rows from the front, bidding on art while the security guard his company hired was probably out there hunting Dylan down. A woman on the OHSU board bid, and Randal countered. Another paddle went up, and again Randal countered.

  I studied the painting. It was modern abstract, the surface raised by various metals, and hideous. Randal seemed like someone who’d be interested in more traditional pieces. When a gentleman representing the Hilton bid, Randal didn’t counter, so he must not have wanted it too much.

  The next piece offered for auction was a ruby necklace donated by a local jeweler. Three bids in, Randal raised his paddle again. He threw up a few more bids before dropping out again. Strange. Men like Randal White were selective. When they bid on something, it was because they wanted it. They didn’t drop out of the bidding.

  The next item—a dress donated by a local designer—came and went, and Randal didn’t bid. I’d almost convinced myself I was making something out of nothing when he flung his paddle up for the next item, a vintage train set.

  I was still watching him when my phone vibrated in my hand. I had a new text from Jake. He’d been messaging me periodic updates to keep me from losing my mind. This one informed me there was still no sign of Dylan, so they’d doubled their five-block radius to ten. The police were monitoring Nicolai’s house as well as all major highways leading out of the city.

  They were doing everything they could, but I couldn’t help feeling like we’d missed something.

  Randal bid again. I walked over to the record keeper and scanned the sheet. Randal hadn’t won anything. So bizarre. It was almost like he was bidding people up. But why would he be helping us like that? Did he want the entire room angry at him for a reason?

  Maybe. That would be one hell of an alibi. Wondering if I was onto something, I headed out into the hall and called Asher.

  He picked up on the second ring. “What’s the word?” he asked, sounding both hopeful and afraid to hear the worst. I knew exactly how he felt.

  “No word yet, but…” I couldn’t seem to phrase what I wanted to ask him. What if I was wrong? What if I was so desperate to find Dylan I was making stuff up?

  “What, Addie? Spit it out.”

  “Randal White. What’s your take on him?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “It’s just… he’s in the auction bidding on almost everything. It’s like he wants everyone to know where he is. I can’t help but wonder… what if he lied? What if Dylan didn’t really take off?”

  He sucked in a breath. “You think she’s still there?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But the doorman confirmed that he saw Dylan leave.”

  “Asher, come on. We both know doormen can be paid off. I don’t know, maybe she’s not still here. But the front doors aren’t the only way out of this place. What if he and his cronies took Dylan out one of the other exits, and he’s here…” A lump formed in my throat, making it impossible to finish the sentence.

  There was silence on the other end of the line, then finally Asher said what I couldn’t. “You think he’s there building an alibi.”

  I expected him to tell me I’d been watching too many murder shows, but he didn’t. Every second Asher stayed silent reinforced the idea in my head.

  “Dylan wouldn’t have left without telling us,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

  “Oh God,” Asher breathed, his mind clearly coming to the same conclusion. “Have you told Jake any of this?”

  “No. I was hoping I’d call you and you’d tell me I was crazy.”

  “And I wish I could, but everything you’re saying makes sense. I’m almost back to the building. Gather together anyone you know we can trust and meet me by the front door.”

  “What are we gonna do?” I asked, already moving toward the kitchen staff.

  “We’ll scour the building. If Dylan’s there, we’ll find her.”

  “Okay, see you soon.” I disconnected before either of us could ask what we’d do if Dylan wasn’t in the building.

  Now with a sense of purpose, I marched into the kitchen. T
he building was huge, and Asher and I would need help with the search. Since dinner had been served before the auction, the staff was busy cleaning up. I pulled Stacy aside and told her the situation.

  “What can we do?” Stacy asked after she hugged me.

  “Grab the staff and tell them to start searching for Dylan anywhere the guests don’t typically go.”

  Stacy nodded. “Got it.” She frowned. “So we’re looking for your friend? The one in the green dress?”

  The meaning behind her question constricted my throat. What if they found Dylan? What if she was dead? No, I refused to believe that. “Dylan is smart and resourceful. She’ll be okay. They probably took her out of here, but if she had the chance she would have left something behind. Some sort of clue that would lead us to her. Maybe she Cinderella’d it and left a glass slipper behind, or an earring, or maybe her cell phone. I don’t know, but if she left us something, we have to find it.”

  “Yes ma’am, we will,” Stacy assured me.

  “Tell the staff I’m offering a reward. If one of them finds Dylan or the clue that leads us to her, the whole staff will get two thousand dollars apiece.”

  “Addison, that’s extremely generous, but you don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t, Stacy, but I want to. This means a lot to me. Please, get them started as soon as possible.”

  Stacy called her workers to follow her, and we headed for the front door.

  Asher rushed through the doorway. I waved him over. “What’s all this?” he asked.

  I watched as Stacy spoke to the group. “The cavalry. They’re gonna help us search.”

  “Good thinking, Addie.” Asher draped his arm over my shoulder. “Let’s get started.”

  Asher and I headed in the opposite direction of Stacy’s group and started searching. We stayed together, opening closets, large cabinets, anywhere someone might stash something as big as a body. With each doorknob I turned, I worried I’d find Dylan’s body on the other side.

  We were a little over five minutes into the search when my cell phone rang. Stacy’s name came across. Dreading the news we were about to receive, I put it on speaker so I wouldn’t have to repeat anything to Asher.

  “Addison, we found a purse,” Stacy said. “It looks designer. You know... the really expensive black sparkly one that was at Neiman’s?”

  I’d loaned Dylan my Alexander McQueen Crystal Frame clutch... it had to be hers. My heart jumped out of my chest. “Ohmigod, that’s Dylan’s. Don’t touch it. Where are you?”

  She described the room they’d found it in and Asher and I took off running for it. By the time we got there, the whole group had gathered around the purse where it was discarded on the floor.

  “What do we do now?” I asked Asher.

  “Does anyone have any gloves?” he asked.

  Stacy came through, handing him a pair. He gave them to me. “Check it. See if anything’s missing while I call Jake.”

  Mindful of the slit up my dress, I knelt and put on the gloves. I opened the purse and started removing Dylan’s personal items. Since she was just borrowing the bag, she hadn’t put much in it. Panic key fob, lip gloss, mints, concealer, mascara, her phone. Wait... Dylan kept the panic thing on her key ring. Someone had taken it off.

  “Her keys,” I said, trying to process what that could mean.

  Asher was talking on his phone and didn’t appear to have heard me.

  “Her keys, Ash,” I said, pushing myself off the floor. Stacy hurried over to help me.

  Ash paused in his conversation and looked at me. “They’re not there?” he asked.

  “No. The fob is, but her keys are missing. They must have gone to the condo. Why else would they take her keys?”

  “You heard that?” Asher asked into the phone. “Yeah, all right. I’ll be there soon.” He disconnected. “They’re on their way, Addie.”

  Still holding Dylan’s purse, I said, “I’m coming with you.”

  He shook his head and pulled me in for a quick hug. “You can’t. You still have an event to run here. You did good, Sis. You found her. We’ve got to let the cops do their thing now.”

  Then, completely contradictory to what he’d just said, he took off to go to Dylan.

  With nothing else to do, I turned to Stacy and made arrangements with her to get the reward money to the staff before heading back to the auction room.

  I sent up a silent prayer, pleading for Dylan’s safety.

  Dylan

  WE WERE IN some sort of delivery van. There were no seats or windows in the back, and the only light came from the windshield and front side windows. There was clearly no ventilation, either. The van reeked of sour sweat and stale pizza. I held my breath as Brian drove and Nicolai sat with his gun trained on me.

  We rolled out of the parking lot, and I looked out the windshield in time to watch us pass by a US Bank sign.

  “Where are we going?” Brian asked over his shoulder.

  Nicolai tapped my knee with his gun. “We tore apart your old apartment and didn’t find anything. You keepin’ it at your friend’s house?”

  I had no freaking idea where the money was, but Nicolai didn’t look like he’d settle for that answer. I’d always been good at solving problems, and I knew I could figure this one out. I just needed more time. Or clues. I needed clues. Taking a stab in the dark, I asked, “Did Kirk happen to say when he gave the money to me?”

  Nicolai’s brow furrowed. “He said after you were fired.”

  Well, that didn’t make sense and only proved Kirk must have been lying. I definitely hadn’t seen that asshole after he’d canned me. Feeling hopeless, I sighed and tried to speak sense again. “The last time I saw Kirk alive, you were with me.”

  The scene replayed in my mind.

  Kirk and Nicolai barged into my office. It was the first and only time I’d ever seen Kirk angry. His face was bright red when he handed me an empty cardboard box.

  “I can’t believe you went over my head,” he roared. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Pack your personal items, you’re out of here.”

  “What?” I asked, stunned.

  “Your position with this company has been terminated, effective immediately. I need your keys and your badge, and I need you to put your personal items in this damn box so I can get you out of my company.”

  I blinked, stunned that he would take such an unprofessional tone with me. Sure, Kirk had hit on me dozens of times, but he’d never been rude or cruel. “You’re firing me?” I asked.

  “You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut and do your job.”

  There was something else in his expression, something other than anger.

  I thought back, focusing on his eyes, the way his hands trembled, the slight crack in his voice when he said job. Kirk was afraid. I hadn’t realized it back then, because I was too shocked and furious.

  “I was trying to do my job. A job made impossible by the inconsistencies on that spreadsheet… which I told you about.”

  Kirk glanced at Nicolai and then grabbed a photo from the top of my desk and stuck it in the box. “Pack,” he growled.

  Too shook up to argue, I opened my drawers and started doing just that while Kirk cleared off the rest of the top of my desk.

  The memory vanished, leaving behind the realization that if Kirk had given me anything after I’d been fired, it had to be in that box. The box I’d put in the trunk of my car before heading to Addison’s after I was fired. Because Addison and I had gotten plastered that night, and I’d been arrested the following morning, my car—and that damn box—had been parked in Addison’s garage ever since. I’d never gone through the box. Kirk could have slipped money into it, but something told me Randal wasn’t looking for a few bills. The money had to be pretty significant if he’d been willing to kill Kirk over it. Still, the box was my only option.

  Hoping we’d find something in it, I nodded to Nicolai. “Yes, take me to Addison’s.”

  The inside o
f the van darkened when we pulled into Addison’s parking garage. Anxious to find the money, but dreading what would happen to me after I did, I leaned back and closed my eyes. My mind and body were exhausted as I struggled to piece together the new details I had.

  Randal White was responsible for Kirk’s death.

  In hindsight, it made perfect sense. The spreadsheet, the skewed numbers, Kirk’s anger at me going over his head. He must have been skimming from the company, and my whistle-blowing had only drawn attention to him. All this time I thought I was innocent, but it turned out I’d played a huge part in Kirk’s murder. I didn’t know how to feel about it.

  “Is it in the condo?” Nicolai asked.

  “No. My car.”

  He frowned, studying me. Most likely he’d slashed my tire, so it was probably frustrating for him to know he’d been so close to what he was looking for.

  The van rolled to a stop. The driver’s side door opened and closed, and then Brian opened my door. With both their guns trained on me, I got out of the van and made my way to the trunk of my car.

  Brian tugged my keys out of his pocket and unlocked the trunk. The box sat smack dab in the middle, just waiting for us.

  Nicolai gestured toward it with his gun. “The money’s in that?” He sounded nearly as skeptical as I felt.

  I shrugged. “The last time I saw Kirk he helped me pack up this box. I don’t know if the money is in there, but maybe something that will lead us to it is.”

  Nicolai and Brian didn’t look happy, but they must not have had any better ideas, because Brian stepped forward and inspected the box. “It’s clean. Looks like stuff from her work desk.”

  It was stuff from my work desk, but hopefully Kirk had slipped in something extra. “If he added anything, I’ll know,” I said.

  Nicolai considered my words a few seconds before gesturing me forward. “Okay, but no tricks or I’ll shoot.”

  Randal had not only taken all my tricks, but he’d burnt my sleeves. The garage was silent, my only allies were busy at some fundraiser, and I had nothing on me but a pair of spiked heels and the bobby pins in my hair. Since I couldn’t imagine them allowing me the time necessary to take either of those off and use them as a weapon, I went to work emptying the box.