Page 25 of Vow of Vengeance
"Yeah, at my house." She sighs. "I didn't think to grab it."
She hits the door again and winces at the impact on her fist.
"Here," I move her aside. "Let me."
I knock much louder than Soren, and rapidly enough that I'm convinced there's no way anyone is hiding out on the other side of the door dodging us.
"What the hell?" Someone asks, yelling to be heard above my hits.
I turn to take in a shirtless man standing in the doorway of the apartment across the hall. He looks like we've just woken him, despite the fact that it's the middle of the afternoon.
Soren whips around to face him, ready to fight until recognition must click for her. "Chik, right?"
"Uh, yeah," Chik looks Soren over, confused. "How'd you know?"
"I'm her best friend. Marissa's mentioned you." She explains hastily. "Hot neighbor across the hall."
I bristle at the term 'hot neighbor'. Chik looks like a high school burnout who'd live on the beach in a van if he could.
"You have a key, right? From when you house-sat for her when she was in Texas a few months ago?"
I expect him to say that no, he doesn't have a key. Instead, he thinks a minute before he seems to remember exactly what Soren's asking about. "Yeah, actually. I think I do. You need it?"
"I'm worried about her." Soren nods.
Chik turns without further hesitation, digging around in a bowl on his entry table. I raise an eyebrow, wondering whether it's innocent or if those are leftovers from a party or two. He pulls out a couple keys, some on rings and some loose ones, before he hands a single one across the distance to Soren. "This one."
It's a hot pink key with a kitten cover on top of it, and the fact that he has it makes me wonder how much Marissa trusts this guy and just how many people have a key to her apartment. I guess I'll have to have a talk with her about personal safety. Apartment complexes are such a perfect hunting ground for creeps, what with all the workers and neighbors and how anybody can say they're visiting despite the guard at the front.
I've wanted to tell Soren that her fear is unfounded, that she's overreacting, and she'll hear from her best friend soon, but now that we're here, I'm starting to have my doubts.
Soren doesn't even remember to thank him, snatching the key and turning around to let herself into Marissa's apartment. Chik stands in his door, watching us until I close Marissa's door behind us. I have some questions for Chik, but I'm not letting Soren explore the place on her own, just in case.
"Rissa!" Soren calls, as if her friend just didn't hear any of the previous knocking and calling.
If I thought Soren was a bit messy with her dirty coffee cups and strewn about clothing, Marissa's place tells me I was wrong. It's not exactly dirty, but it sure isn't clean. Apparently, Marissa must thrive in chaos, because this apartment makes no sense.
Stuff iseverywhere.Deodorant on the kitchen counter, a pair of shoes at the sink, books stacked up on the couch. Soren must notice my shock because she gives me a panicked laugh.
"She worksa lot. She cleans once a week, but the rest of the week, it's normal for it to look like this."
"Which day does she clean?" I ask, following her through the living room to the little hall. The bathroom door is open, and when Soren turns the light on, it illuminates a small room with makeup scattered along the vanity top. She hesitates a minute, swallowing before she pulls back the shower curtain to look down at the tub.
It's empty.
"Wednesdays."
I say nothing, not wanting to increase her panic. I don't know that this mess is from two days of normal living, which means Marissa may have missed cleaning her apartment this week. So then where is she?
Soren's apparent anxiety increases as we head for the bedroom, and I push in front of her to open the door before she can. I don't expect that her young, healthy friend is lying dead in her bed, but I can't take the chance. Soren doesn't fight me, gripping the back of my shirt for support.
When I open the door, it's to another empty room.
The full bed is made, one little corner of tidiness among the absolute explosion in the rest of the room. Clothes, shoes, bottles of lotion and aspirin and water clutter the tops of her dresser.
"Fuck." Soren sighs, pushing around me to walk into the room like she may spot something of note in there. The closet door is open, but it's so full that there's not a chance anyone is hiding in there.
There's a window that's still latched behind her bed, and no signs of something being amiss. I don't even know what that would look like, since I don't know Marissa well enough, but Ican deduce the obvious. Except, there is none of the obvious. No signs of a struggle, no blood, no food left uneaten on the counter. Other than her clutter, there's nothing.
