I groan as I wake, muscles stiff and head foggy. For a minute I lay there, staring up at the ceiling. I fell into bed so abruptly, I didn’t even pull the curtains, thankfully though, the sun is being suffocated by a thick layer of deep gray clouds, the promise of rain hanging thick in the air. I can hear the bustle of the street below.
With a sigh, I push the blankets off, my finger’s running across the material covering my body, hitting the buttons. I don’t own any pyjamas with buttons. I inhale sharply, getting a strong smell of Kingston’s aftershave.
Oh shit. That happened.
I glance at the clock. Ten thirty AM.
“Shit!” I yell. It’s Monday. I have work. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I don’t have time to dwell on my activities last night, I don’t even have time to think about how sore I am down there. I throw the shirt from my body, leaving it on the floor and throw myself into the shower, washing quickly before I rush back to my room, throwing on the first pair of trousers I find, and pair it with a thick, wool jumper. Brushing out my hair I decide it’s too far gone to do anything with and shove it into a ponytail. It’ll have to do.
I find my phone in my purse discarded on the kitchen table and see six missed calls from Tobias, three from HR, and not so shockingly several text messages. My eyes snag on the latest message received from Unknown. I hadn’t saved his number and hadn’t planned to, I didn’t need to, seeing as he was the only one who text from an unknown number.
I ignore them all and lock up, heading out into the bitter wind. Once on the train, I dial the office.
I interrupt before Josie’s even halfway through the basic office greeting, “Josie, it’s Eleanor!”
“Where are you!?” She hisses, “Tobias is spitting mad that you’ve not arrived and his big meeting with those execs starts in half an hour! With Tate gone he has no one!”
“I’m coming, I, uh, had an emergency and my phone died,” I wince at the lie. I wasn’t about to admit I’d slept in because of my activities last night.
“Is everything okay?”
No. “Yes, fine now, tell Tobias I’ll be there in fifteen, please explain it was a family emergency.”
“Sure.”
I hang up and then check through the rest of my messages. Tobias asking where I am, mum checking in, I reply to her quickly, thumbs swiping over the keys. When I come out of that message my breathing stops.
Tate: Hi Eleanor, just checking in. I’m all good. Hope you’re well. Tate.
How they could ever think this was how Tate text was beyond me. They didn’t know her clearly, not like I did. Guilt sits heavy on my chest. I dial the number the cops gave me the other day.
“This is Officer Daniels, how can I help?”
“Hello, officer? My name is Eleanor, I called a few days ago about my friend being missing. They gave me this number to dial if I had any more worries.”
“Yes.”
“Well, she still isn’t home.”
“Have you heard from her at all?”
“I’ve had a text, but it’s not like how she usually speaks to me, I find it odd.”
I think back to all the things the PI’s said to me, how finding her was a lost cause and then remember what King said, how he could help. But getting King’s help was like selling my soul to the devil. He wanted me to get information from Tobias, but I doubted his requests would end there.
“Have you thought maybe this is a breakdown of your relationship?” The cop sighs impatiently.
“No, we were good.”
“Miss, there is nothing we can do. We always follow up when someone claims a person is missing and reached out to other friends and family of Miss Stone, and they’ve all heard from her. There is no case here.”
“You’re wrong,” I snap.
“If that will be all, Miss Locke, I have other matters to address.”
“No, wait!” I call loudly, garnering a few glares from other passengers on the train, but he hangs up. “Fuck!” I hiss.
The lady next to me gasps audibly, clutching imaginary pearls. “What!?” I snap. She tuts.
I press my fingers to my forehead, massaging away the blooming headache before I open King’s message.
Unknown: Your message was cute. Was one round not enough?
Unknown: I’m ready to call in our bargain. I’ll see you after work.
I ignore them both, even if the first message has spots of color flaming on my cheeks.
Once I get to the office, I manage to talk Tobias down enough for him to stop yelling at me, and get the meeting room ready for when his guests arrive, laying out pitchers of water and setting up the coffee machine in the room.
By the time the task is complete and I’m heading back to my desk, his guests have already arrived.
I stand, “Good morning, my name is Eleanor,” I drone through the usual greeting, “I’ll take you to the room and fetch Mr Franco for you.”
There’s three of them. They’re not faces I’ve ever seen before, but Tobias has new clients all the time, yet there’s something about these guys that screams off to me. I push that feeling down even as I feel one particular pair of eyes studying me a little too hard.
The two men at the front are graying, mid to late fifties I would assume, with lines appearing on their faces, around their eyes and mouth. One is short, rotund. There are burst capillaries at the end of his nose and his eyes are so bloodshot and tired looking, the other however appears healthier, handsome even with his clean-shaven face and styled gray hair, but the last guy, he was young, maybe mid-thirties if I was to guess. His hair is black, cropped short and groomed. A handsome face, if not a little cruel, and he wears a thick pair of black rimmed glasses. His suit is pristine, fitting him like a glove and as he shifts, bending his arms to place his hands in his pockets, the jacket of his suit lifts, just enough that I see what he has concealed underneath. A gun.