“Did you call her emergency contact?” he asked.
Mavis swiveled the computer monitor toward him. “She putmedown.”
He chuffed out a grunt. “Not helping.” He texted himself April’s phone number and address. Before heading out, he turned back to Mavis. “She better have a damn good reason why she’s not here.”
He took the stairs to Level One. Pounding music and loud conversations interrupted his thoughts. L1 was packed.This is crazy.
Once outside, he checked with Tank, his line manager. “Are we at max?”
“We’re close,” Tank replied.
“Nobody else goes in until twenty leave.” Stryker slid into his black Mercedes-AMG GT 63S and entered the address. On the way, he called April, got no answer and hung up.
“Siri, call Dakota Luck,” Stryker said.
Seconds later, his friend answered.
“Hey,” Dakota said. “You guys all set for tonight?”
“We had to abort.”
“What happened?”
“Quincy dropped out.”
“Tonight, or altogether?”
“For good,” Stryker replied as he turned west on Arlington Boulevard. “Brooks and Rhys didn’t think we could handle it with three. Pussies.”
“We’ll regroup.”
“I was gonna do it alone, but—”
“Not smart, Stryker.”
“Do you think these guys coulda killed her?”
“The gang leader is old enough, but my gut says no. Don’t go off half-cocked without a team,” Dakota said. “They’re ruthless.”
“So am I, but I got a work thing I gotta handle.” Stryker pulled up to April’s three-story apartment building in an older Arlington neighborhood. “I’m out.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I live for stupid.” Stryker disconnected.
The front door of the brick building was locked, so he buzzed April’s apartment. No response, so he pressed another button on her floor.
“What’s up?” asked a woman through the box.
“I’m here to see April.”
“Buzz April, then.”
“She’s not answering. Can you let me in?”
She hung up.So helpful.
He buzzed another resident, but got no reply.How the hell am I supposed to get in?He called April again. Her cell phone rolled to voicemail.
