Page 9 of Desperate Creed

“What about checking hospitals or his apartment?”

“You said you don’t know where his apartment is.”

“No, but...you’re the police. Aren’t you able to look it up?”

He looked at her over the top of his eyeglasses, and she realized how foolish she sounded. Even if she called the advertising agency she wouldn’t be allowed Tyler’s personal information, including his address. How many Tyler Gates would Google find in the Chicago area?

“If you remember anything else,” he said and pointed to the business card in her fingers. “Call me.”

6

Frankie drove home. Frustrated. Angry. Only four hours after talking to Tyler, and already she was starting to second-guess what she’d heard and seen. Maybe it wasn’t gunfire. But she swore she’d seen blood on his face.

He could have been punched. Maybe the men simply mugged him. Still, he had to be hurt or he would have called her. Was it possible that he was unconscious? Maybe confused and in an emergency room? After his attacker had called her back, Frankie turned her phone off. She’d only turned it back on to quickly dial 911.

What if Tyler had been trying to call her?

She pulled off the busy route and took side streets that led her into a residential area. With her move came a new and unfamiliar neighborhood. More upscale than she was used to seeing. She took a right into the parking lot of a church. At this time on a Friday it was empty except for a van at the back door.

Frankie drove to the far corner, away from any windows. She backed the car into a slot, pointing the nose toward the nearest exit. Suddenly, for the first time in her life she was grateful her father had instilled in her a bit of his quirky paranoia.

She left the engine running. Double-checked that all the doors were locked. She kept the radio on a local news station in case there was anything about Tyler. She dug the cell phone out from the bottom of her handbag, but instead of turning it on right away, she held it in front of her, staring at it.

The incident—whatever it was—that Frankie had witnessed, had unnerved her. She hadn’t just kept the phone off because she worried the man who attacked Tyler would call her again. It was beyond that. She was afraid he could track her. He had to have seen her face. He knew her phone number. Depending on how Tyler identified her, the guy might have her entire name. Maybe even a better photo sitting beside that name and number on Tyler’s contact list. All that information could help him track her down.

Her eyes darted around the parking lot and across the street. The houses were small but quaint and the yards and lawns were well-kept. In the distance she could hear a dog barking, asking to be let inside. The hum of traffic was muffled by towering maple trees and evergreens. No cars were parked on the streets. No walkers. No runners. In the next block she could see a repair van in the driveway. A quiet neighborhood on a quiet Friday morning.

It had to have been a mugging, Frankie told herself. That early in the morning? What else could it be? And why would a petty thief bother to track her down? She had no way of identifying him. Or turning him in.

She was being ridiculous. Still, she took a deep breath, and she turned the cell phone on. Her pulse started to race as the screen blinked to life. Seven text messages. Two missed calls. One of them might be from Tyler.

The missed calls were unfamiliar numbers. She scrolled the text messages. Most of them were from Angela, her new personal assistant. Frankie was supposed to have the entire week off to move and unpack. Mr. McGavin had approved it. Actually, he had insisted she take the full week. But Frankie had already gotten restless and told Angela yesterday that she’d drop by the office for a few hours. She really wanted to check in and see how her new assistant was doing. Just a glimpse at the texts and Frankie was reminded how much she missed her long-time assistant, Holly. Breaking in a new assistant while moving into a new apartment was not a good idea.

She started to scroll through the messages. All of them were from Angela. In a matter of minutes they appeared to go from curious to urgent.

JUST CHECKING ON YOU?

WHEN WILL YOU BE IN?

CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU CAN.

The last thing Frankie needed was Mr. McGavin getting upset with her, especially if Tyler made it sound like she was a part of his crazy cereal protest.

She glanced at her watch. Scanned the surrounding neighborhood, again. No one had followed her. No one was tracking her.

“Get a hold of yourself, Francine,” she said out loud. “You’re being ridiculous.”

She called Angela and waited. She reached for the radio to turn down the weather report and decided to turn it up instead. She didn’t want to miss anything on Tyler.

“McGavin Holt,” Angela answered.

“Hi Angela. It’s Frankie. What’s going on?”

“Oh hey. When will you be here? I’ve been looking at your schedule, and I don’t see any meetings at all for today.”

“That’s right. Remember, I’m officially gone all this week.”

“Oh sure. No, I remember that, but,” Angela paused and Frankie could hear shuffling. When she continued, her voice was almost a whisper. “There are a couple of guys here. They said they needed to talk to you. Since you said you were stopping by today I thought maybe you were expecting them?”