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.
NeitherFather 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 stoodat 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 havewanted 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 raisedby 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 whenmy 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 feelinglike 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 andcalled 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?”
