Chapter Nine
“SO, UH…if you could give me a call when you get this message, I’d appreciate it. I’ve got your briefcase, and…. Well, I’m getting worried about you. Please call me back and let me know you’re okay.”
Asher touched his phone to end the call and stared at Zach’s door, at a loss for what to do. He hadn’t thought much about it when Zach didn’t pick up the first night. Asher called to check in as promised, but he thought maybe Zach had gotten too sleepy to wait up for him after all. He’d called when he got off the plane in New York to see if Zach wanted to meet up so they could have dinner and a private reunion celebration, but again, the call had gone to voicemail. At that point, Asher was curious, but not concerned. Odds were high that Zach had to stay late at work and was too busy to pay attention to his phone. The firm always got slammed right before the holidays, so that could explain Zach’s silence.
It didn’t explain why Zach’s briefcase was still at Asher’s place, however. Why hadn’t Zach come by to pick it up?
Although Asher was tired from his whirlwind trip to DC, he’d dumped his suitcase, grabbed Zach’s briefcase, and called Parker. A knot of apprehension had formed in his stomach on the ride over to Zach’s apartment building, and it tightened when he knocked on the door and got no response.
He stood in the hall with his phone in one hand and the briefcase in the other, wondering what to do. Should he try to find someone to open the door? What if Zach was lying in there, hurt—or worse? Maybe he should go to the office and see if Zach was there first. That was the most rational explanation, he told himself firmly, trying to push all the worst-case scenarios out of his mind.
After tucking his phone into his pocket, he returned to the elevator and pressed the button, but when the doors opened, an older woman stepped off. He smiled as he moved out of her way, recognizing her as Zach’s neighbor across the hall, Mrs. Watson. They met when she came scurrying out to meet Zach’s “new friend” one of the few times they had gone to Zach’s place for the evening rather than Asher’s. According to Zach, she was retired and had little to do but serve as the receptionist of the apartment building.
“Hi, Mrs. Watson. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Zach today?” he asked, hoping he could use the grapevine to his advantage.
“No, I haven’t seen him since he took off last night. His door closing woke me up, so naturally I had to make sure everything was okay,” she replied.
“Naturally,” Asher said dryly. “Do you have any idea where he was going?”
“No, but wherever he went, he packed light. I didn’t see him carrying a suitcase.”
The elevator doors were about to close, so Asher shot his arm out to keep them open. “Thanks. If you see him, will you tell him I stopped by?”
“I’d be glad to.”
She waved and continued down the hall, and Asher entered the elevator, feeling more uneasy than before. It wasn’t like Zach to stay out all night, and if he’d been called out of town, surely he would have taken some luggage. Maybe he went to his parents’ house? But no, that would still require at least an overnight bag.
The situation was becoming more confusing—and more frightening. What if Zach had gone to meet some friends and had gotten mugged? What if he’d gotten in a wreck? He could be in the hospital or even the morgue right now, and Asher wouldn’t even know it.
Once he was settled in the back seat of his car again, he pulled out his phone. There was one more thing he could try. He opened up the text message app and typed a quick note.
I just stopped by your place to drop off your briefcase, but you weren’t there. I called and left a couple of messages too. I’m getting worried, so please give me a call when you get this and let me know you’re okay.
He hit Send and waited until the “delivered” note popped up under his text. He’d give it an hour or so, and if “delivered” didn’t change to “read,” he’d start making some calls and get serious about finding Zach. He forced himself not to check his phone during the ride home, but once he was out of the car and heading into the building, he couldn’t hold out any longer.
“Delivered” had changed to “read.”
Relief washed over him at that. Wherever he was, Zach had his phone, and since it was password protected, only he could have seen the message. Zach was okay.
Asher hoped that meant Zach would call him soon, so he kept his phone close—okay, he kept it in his hand—while he puttered around the house, killing time while he waited for Zach’s call. He’d admit he’d gotten worried enough to consider calling the police, and Zach would laugh and assure him everything was fine. But minutes turned into over an hour, and Zach didn’t call or reply to the text, not even a quick “I’m fine.” Just silence.
Did Zach not want to talk to him? Asher tried to think of anything that might have happened to upset Zach, but he couldn’t. As far as he could tell, everything had been fine when he left. Zach had been his normal affectionate self.
Had something happened while Asher was away? Maybe Zach’s parents had expressed their disapproval of him? Or Zach’s friends had tried to dissuade him from dating Asher? But why would they do that? As far as Asher knew, he had a reputation for being a workaholic but not a jerk, and Zach didn’t say anything about Asher making a bad impression on his parents.
So what had happened? Had Asher done something? Said something? But he couldn’t imagine what it might have been. He hadn’t even talked to Zach since he left, and he didn’t think anything in his messages could have upset Zach.
Maybe being away from Asher for a while made Zach realize he didn’t want to deal with Asher’s family-related baggage. Maybe Asher was still too much of a workaholic for him. Maybe Asher wanted too much from him too quickly, and he’d cut and run to put some distance between them.
Asher poured himself some bourbon and slumped on the couch, but even the bourbon couldn’t warm the cold emptiness he felt inside. He tossed his phone on the coffee table. It wasn’t going to ring, and he didn’t want to look at it anymore.
If Zach didn’t want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t bother calling or texting again. He’d gotten the message loud and clear without Zach ever saying a word.
