Never Look Back (4 page)

Dana slowed down her pace and took deep breaths. She strode to the bathroom and removed her clothes. Maybe a shower was what she needed to let her feel fresh. As the water dripped down her body, Dana imagined she was lathering her hair with shampoo and her body with soap.

***

Rob Hanson left his sixth voicemail for Dana. "Why aren’t you picking up? Did you receive my messages? The producer is in town and wants to do a holiday shoot. You would be perfect for this role.” He exhaled. “I can’t believe you’ll pass on this.”

He threw his phone inside his black leather messenger bag, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment.
If Dana’s not picking up, I’ll come and see her myself.

Rob run his fingers through his soft wavy hair as he crossed the street. The wind blew against his cheek, and snow curled to the ground. Moments later, he arrived at Dana’s apartment.

A familiar doorman greeted him. “Good day. Are you here to see Ms. Simmons?”

Rob smiled. “Yes.”

He removed something from the mailbox and handed a boxed fruitcake to Rob. “She left this. Hope you don’t mind taking it to her.”

“Sure.”

Rob entered the elevator and whistled as he pressed the twentieth floor. He sniffed the plastic and inhaled extracts of cinnamon and cranberry.

The elevator opened. Rob bounced out and rushed to Dana’s apartment. He knocked. No answer. Knocked again, still no answer.
Where are you?
He pulled out a piece of paper from his notepad and wrote "call me" in bold letters. Signing his name, Rob tucked the note underneath her door and decided to bring the fruitcake with him.

***

Nightfall came and still no Skully. Dana guarded the window and kicked the wall again and again.
I can't believe Skully has forgotten me.
She paced around the room trying to find an escape. Banging her hands against the wall, she yelled. Dana closed her eyes and as she drifted into a deep sleep, Dana dreamt of her father playing hide and seek with her.  She sought solace in her favorite hiding place, the tree house.

"Dana, I know where you are."

Giggling in between breaths, Dana whispered, "You're never going to find me here."

"Dana." His voice drew nearer.

Suddenly, she heard another voice—a woman.

Dana peered from the tree house to get a closer look and saw her mother smiling at her, blue eyes dancing. "Mom?"

The door flung open and yanked Dana from her deep sleep. The redheaded driver stood in the doorway, carrying a huge bag and a mattress.

She bolted right up. "What are you doing here? Where's Skully?"

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I mean, the other guy, what's his name."

He unloaded a blanket and contents from an overnight bag. "Do you want me to take this to your room?"

He finally spoke.
"My room?" She shrugged. No way she was making this her home. She had purposely slept in the living room so she'd be closer to the door. "You can lay it down here."

"I brought you clothes." He studied her body. "Size zero, I presume?"

She didn't flinch. "Thanks." Dana took the pajamas, toiletries, and underwear from him.

He laid food on the kitchen counter as she followed him. "You must be hungry. I have avocado rolls, hot miso soup, and udon noodles."

She grabbed the soup. "How can you guys just leave me here with nothing? The damn heater doesn't work, and I'm not only filthy, I'm starving."

He pushed the rolls toward her and watched as she munched away.

"Please, you seem like a nice guy who got dragged to do this dirty job. Can you at least tell me what I'm doing here? Or what you want from me?"

He removed his watch and washed his hands on the sink.

Dana munched her sixth avocado roll then stopped. Just as a model could control what she ate, she knew better than to eat more. She set the food aside.

"You should try the noodles."

She smiled. "I'll save it for tomorrow."

***

Rob gritted his teeth at the police station. Two hours had passed and nobody seemed to be giving importance to him. Phones rang off the hook, and the police officer he was talking to kept glancing from left to right as prostitutes walked in.

"For the third time, I'm telling you my friend doesn't just ran off like that. It's been three days since she left her apartment, and I would like to file for a missing report."

The police officer jotted notes. "Doesn't she have any family? It's the holidays, you know."

"Didn't you hear what I told you earlier? Her father just died." Rob paused then grabbed his jacket disgusted by the lack of competence. "You know what, forget it. You're not being very helpful." Rob stormed out of the office.

Back on the street, Rob stopped to buy a cigarette. He lit one and closed his eyes. So what if he had quit a couple of months ago. He needed one now. None of Dana's friends knew where she was. This was very unlike Dana to walk away when projects were lined up for her. A cold shiver ran through his spine as he recalled what Dana had said to him about her mother.

Tossing his cigarette, Rob flagged down a cab and climbed in. "East Seventy-Third Street."

The Indian cab driver drove away.

Rob gazed at the traffic jam from his window. "Is there any way you can go faster?"

The driver grinned. "What's the matter with you people? Always in a hurry."

Rob sighed. He needed to get back to Dana's apartment. If the police were not going to help, he needed to find her himself.

Half a hour later, the cab dropped him off the curb and Rob handed him folded bills. "Keep the change."

The grin on the driver's face morphed into a huge smile.

Rob dashed inside the building. The same doorman greeted him. "Listen, I need your help."

The doorman nodded. "What can I do for you?"

Rob caught his breath. "When was the last time you saw Dana?"

The doorman looked above the ceiling. "Hmm, it must have been that day I told her about the fruitcake. Like three days ago."

"That's it. She took off and hasn't come back."

"Do you think she's with a friend or out of town?"

Rob shook his head. "Did anyone aside from me come looking for her?"

The doorman pulled out the logbook. "Let me check." He flipped the pages. "Oh, yes, there was somebody by the name of John Goodwin who came to see her that morning. Never seen him before."

"Goodwin? Doesn't ring a bell."

"Is everything all right? You don't suppose Ms. Simmons—"

"I don't know. You guys have cameras, right? Do you think I can look at the tapes?"

The doorman straightened his shoulders. "Mister…" He cleared his throat.

"Hanson."

"Mr. Hanson, I don't know what your business is with Ms. Simmons, but I won't be able to assist you. May I suggest you speak to my manager?" He's not here now but here's his business card.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Rob exited the building and took the longer route back to his apartment to give him time to collect his thoughts.

Once he reached home, Rob heated the teapot and plopped himself on the couch.  His loft He opened his laptop and browsed photos he had taken of Dana before she left for Alaska. Her smile made his heart leap. Oh how he missed her. Dana was his favorite model. So down-to-earth and funny and easy going…

Rob poured the hot water into his mug, added a tea bag, then stirred.
Where could she be?
He smelled traces of cinnamon and remembered the fruitcake on the table. "Shit."

Jotting down the address from the dessert's lid, Rob grabbed his keys and raced out the door, without having even one sip of tea.

Twenty minutes later, Rob studied Ginny's Delights pastry shop. It's bright neon lights and light brown tables displayed a modern twist. The place looked like a favorite hangout among young women. He glanced at the selections.

A clerk with strawberry blond hair smiled at him. "Want to try our special? Fruitcake for the holidays."

Rob pointed to the mousse. "I'm more of a chocolate kinda guy."

She punched in the cash register. "You made the right choice. That's three dollars."

He dug in his pocket, pulled out dollar bills, and handed them to her.

"How long has this place been here?" He studied the surroundings noticing more women than men.

She sliced the mousse and put it on a plate. "Family business." Tying her hair in a bow, she added. "Been here for as long as I can remember."

Taking the tray from her, he asked, "Now why does that sound so bad?"

Pursing her lips, she said, "Trust me, when all you see is sugar every day, you'd wanna shift to salt."

Rob nodded. "Nice one."

She winked.

He headed to the corner table and indulged in his chocolate mousse. Another young lady who looked like the woman's sister brought a batch of cupcakes to the table next to his  He could barely hear voices from the back. Maybe he would come again tomorrow and pretend to be working on his projects. The lady seemed nice, and she might be able to help him. After all, this was his only lead.

When the driver fled that evening, he left behind his watch on the counter, whether intention or not, she thanked God he did and it had a date listed. December twenty-third. At least she had clean clothes and blankets. The first thing she did was wash her hair. She stayed in the shower as long as she could imagine allowing the strong pressure to heat her body. Mr. redhead had been kind enough to bring her lotion and a razor. All these special treatment meant a lot to her. But then she pinched herself. She couldn't let her guard down. They obviously wanted something from her.

Dana dried her hair with the towel and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Pale and sunken cheeks stared back at her.
Will she ever get out of here?

***

“You’re here again,” the lady at the pastry shop greeted Rob the next afternoon as he sat on the same table working on his laptop.

The café was empty, hopefully the perfect time to gather information and clues. He nodded. “Yeah, thought I’d try the mango parfait for a change.”

“Stacy Kestav.” She leaned closer to check the screen. “Wow, did you take these photos?”

“Rob.” He extended his hand. “Yup.”

Her eyes glimmered. “You’re an amazing photographer. I’ve never seen such beautiful work.”

Rob grinned. Although Stacy wasn’t tall or thin like a model, she had a refreshing face with light freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her green eyes lighted up when she smiled, and her strawberry blond hair looked smooth and silky. She reminded him of a younger Dana when he met her almost a decade ago. “Thank you. Perhaps I can take photos of you as well.”

Stacy titled her head to the side. “Oh, but I’m no match to those models.” She covered her face.

“Trust me, this…” He pointed to the screen. “It's all airbrush, make up, and proper lighting. You have natural beauty.”

Stacy giggled.

A short feisty looking woman from the back appeared. She settled her cold stern eyes on Rob. “Stacy. I’ve been calling you,” she said in a harsh Russian accent.

Stacy pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, just give me a minute.” She nodded to Rob, who slipped her a business card.

“Call me.” To the woman, he said, “I would love to take photos of your pastries. I’m a photographer.” He rose from his seat.

The woman nodded. “Not, today, very busy baking. You make appointment some other time.”

Rob nodded. “Okay.” He sat back on his chair and continued to answer emails from model applicants. An hour had gone by as the ring from his cell phone jolted him. “This is Rob.”

“Mr. Hanson, this is Arnold, the doorman from Ms. Simon's apartment.”

Rob moved the phone to his left ear. “Yes, I hear you.”

“I think you need to come over if you can. I told my manager—“

“I’ll be there in a few.” Rob shut his laptop, put on his jacket, and exited the café. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stacy watch him leave.

Rob brisk through the crowd and crossed the street. A car honked at him, but he didn’t slow down. He entered the building. Arnold stood beside a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair.

“Mr. Hanson, I'm glad you came," Arnold said. "I’d like to introduce you to the building manager, Mr. Philip Doyle.”

“Please to meet you.” Philip extended his hand. “Arnold tells me you’re a good friend of Ms. Simmons.”

“Yes.” Rob gripped his hand. “Has she returned yet?”

Philip shook his head. “I’m afraid not, I’ve already spoken to the police about this and they seem to stonewall me. Since Dana has been a long-time resident of the Palisades, I’d be happy to go over the videotapes with you.”

“Oh, thank God.” Rob boxed his hand in the air.

Leaving Arnold behind, Philip led Rob to the back room where two TV monitors were displayed. They sat beside each other as Philip rewound the tape to December nineteenth. “Here’s Dana leaving the building. You’ll see moments later she returns with a shopping bag.” He fast-forwarded the tape. “Here’s the man who came in for her.”