“That would be my guess,” Reyn said.
He could hear her audible intake of breath.
“Brian’s going over there to check right now.”
“We need to call the police.”
“We’ll wait and see if Brian can find him.”
“Do you think—”
“No,” he said.
“What if we’re all in danger? What if they weren’t just after Joan but are after all of us and she was just the first?”
“We have to assume we are in danger,” he told her.
“I have my art class this morning—”
“Go,” he told her. “That’s probably the safest place to be right now: in a big crowd with other people. The most important thing is to avoid being alone. Stay out in the open when you’re not in class. I’ll meet you in the usual place at the usual time. And I want you to stay with me tonight. In my room. It’s dangerous to be by yourself.”
They talked briefly about their tentative plans for the day, and Stacy promised to leave her cell phone on at all times, even in class. Reyn told her he’d call back as soon as he had any news.
Moments later, Brian called. He sounded out of breath, as though he’d been running. “Gary’s not answering his door. I pounded the shit out of it so hard that one of his neighbors came out, and I asked the guy if he’d seen Gary, but he said not for a while, though he didn’t know how long.” Brian exhaled deeply. “What if he’s dead in there?”
Reyn hadn’t thought of that. “Find someone to open the door. A manager or whoever.”
“Do we tell the cops?” Brian asked.
“Of course!” Reyn was already getting ready to hang up and dial 911.
“What if they think he’s just skipped out on them? Won’t that make him look more suspicious?”
“They’re dumb, but they’re not that dumb.”
“What about that forty-eight-hour thing? They might not even look for him for another two days.”
“I’m calling that detective, I’m telling him what happened, and if he gives me any shit, I’ll tell him to shut up, get off his ass and do his job. That’s what my taxes are paying him for.”
But it didn’t work out that way. Williams was not on duty, Tucker was, and with evident glee the detective said that Gary, that all of them, had been specifically told to remain nearby where they could easily be reached. The implication was that when—or if—Gary showed up again, he would be in trouble.
“You don’t understand,” Reyn said, exasperated. “He has not only disappeared, but any computerized evidence that he exists has been deleted. Just like Joan.”
“His supposed girlfriend.”
“Well, Gary’s not a supposed anything. You saw him; you met him; you know he exists.”
“Yet he’s trying to convince us that he does not. Why do you suppose that is?”
“He’s not doing this!” Gary said. Talking to Tucker was like arguing with a crazy person. “It’s being done to him!”
“I’m sorry,” the detective said politely. “I don’t see it that way.”
“That’s because you’re an asshole!” Reyn hung up the phone. It rang again, seconds later, and he answered immediately, hoping it was Brian. Or Gary.
It was Tucker.
“Listen,” the detective said threateningly, the anger evident in his voice.
“I don’t have to,” Reyn told him. “You’re still an asshole.” He hung up again. Immediately, he called Brian, who had just found a manager whom he’d convinced to unlock Gary’s door so they could take a look. Brian kept his phone on as the door was opened, so Reyn could hear the whole thing.
“The place looks normal,” Brian said. “Nothing’s disturbed, but Gary’s not here.”
“All right,” the manager announced. “Out.”
“Gary’s not here,” Brian repeated, and the words made Reyn’s blood run cold.
Like Stacy, Reyn and Brian went to their classes. None of them heard from Gary all day, and each time Reyn called his friend’s dorm room, he got the answering machine. Gary’s cell phone was still out of service. He did keep calling the police station, and sometime after noon, Detective Williams came on duty. Reyn asked to speak to him and proceeded to describe to the detective what had happened. He left out the little run-in with Tucker, figuring he’d let the asshole explain it himself if he wanted to do so.
Williams definitely seemed concerned, and he asked a lot of questions, making Reyn go over everything twice. Legally, the detective said, Gary would not be considered missing until the day after tomorrow. But he made it clear that, unofficially, he would be looking into Gary’s disappearance immediately.
Reyn felt better.
Stacy met him in the student union after her last class. He still had a philosophy seminar he had to attend, so she came with him and sat in, and afterward they met Brian in front of the library. “Did you see anything—or anyone—suspicious?” Reyn asked.
Brian shook his head. “I kept an eye out all day. Either no one’s watching me, or, if they are, they’re very, very good.”
The three of them ate a desultory early dinner at an off-campus burger joint, their cell phones on and sitting in the center of the table. Afterward they split up. Brian had a roommate, Dror, and Reyn encouraged him to tell Dror the situation, since proximity might make him a target as well. Besides, four fists were better than two, should someone try to attack. Reyn and Stacy went to her dorm to get her clothes for the next day, then returned to his, where they tried in vain to study before giving it up and going online to browse through whatever information they could find that even remotely applied.
They found nothing, however, and after a quick call to Brian and one last attempt to contact Gary, they turned in early, exhausted and emotionally wrung out.
Reyn fell asleep instantly.
He awoke in the morning, and Stacy was gone. Next to him on the bed was an empty space and a bloodstain the size of a basketball in the center of the indentation where she had been. “Stacy!” he screamed. There was a low answering noise from the bathroom, what sounded like a moan, and he yanked off the sheet and ran over to the open doorway. Stacy was naked and lying in the shower stall. The water was on, the spray aimed at her midsection, where blood flowed from a gaping knife wound, mixing with the water and swirling down the drain. She tried to say something when she saw him but was in such terrible pain that her eyes closed and the only sound that issued from her lips was a short guttural groan. Reyn rushed forward to help her and was grabbed from behind. He turned to see Joan, holding a bloody knife in one hand and, in the other, a mask that looked like the blank, featureless face of the Burning Man.
Then he really awoke, and it was still night, and Stacy was lying beside him, snoring loudly. She was alive; she was safe; she was here. It had all been a dream. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and tried to fall asleep.
But he couldn’t.
And he remained awake all night, through the long, dead hours that eventually led to morning.
Twelve
Opening his eyes, Gary found himself sitting on the ground, his back against a smooth sandstone boulder. For several seconds, he didn’t know where he was or what had happened. Then he remembered the crash, and he looked around for his kidnappers and their car. He saw neither, and he wondered if they had somehow gotten the vehicle working again and taken off without him. That made no sense, though, and he tried to stand up, figuring he could get a better view from a higher vantage point. He was too weak, however, and his attempt to push himself up resulted in an embarrassing slide back down. He waited a few moments, gathered his strength, then tried it again. This time he managed to get to his feet, though he kept one hand on the boulder to steady himself.