Have You Seen Me?(9)

Can you possibly squeeze me in for an extra appointment before Wednesday? Tomorrow would be best. Something really scary happened to me and I need to see you urgently.

A few minutes later, dressed in a long-sleeved tee and sweats, I find Hugh standing at the granite-topped island that separates the kitchen area from the rest of the great room, opening a bottle of Italian red wine. His tie’s off now, as well as his jacket, both draped over the back of one of the barstools along the island.

“I thought I’d have a glass of wine, but you probably shouldn’t, right? At least not tonight.”

“Right, I’d better not. Water is fine.”

“Let’s sit for a bit, okay?” he adds, pouring me another glass of sparkling water. “Dinner should be here soon.”

He’s dimmed the overhead lights, I notice, and switched on a few table lamps so that the lighting is soft and soothing. The city is sparkling outside the windows now. This is the kind of apartment I fantasized about during my early days in New York, and though we were able to buy it in large part because of Hugh’s generous salary, I contributed a nice chunk to the down payment thanks to the savings I’d dutifully squirreled away. I’ve always practiced what I preach as a personal finance reporter.

We settle onto the couch a foot or so apart. There’s something slightly awkward about our interaction, I notice. This can’t be easy for him.

“You must have been really worried when the hospital called you,” I say.

“Forget about me. I was just concerned about you . . . and not being able to get there fast enough. There was a brief moment when all I could think was, ‘How do I hire a freaking chopper?’”

I smile. “I don’t think that hospital has a helipad on the roof, though.” I take a long sip of water, realizing how thirsty I am. “They said they couldn’t reach you for a while.”

“Yeah, I’d gone to Westport to meet with that potential client—Ben Sachs—and two of his associates.”

“That’s what I guessed.”

“Unbeknownst to me, he’d decided to turn the office meeting we’d set up into brunch on his boat, and needless to say, the cell service sucked. Apparently, Melinda was trying to reach me for hours without any luck, so she ended up sending someone to the marina to wait for me.”

“Well, I’m just glad she finally got through.” I let my eyes roam the great room, hoping that clues will present themselves. “Hugh, I really need you to help me fill in a few blanks, okay? According to my calendar, I’d blocked off time this morning to work on my book, so why would I have left here so early? Did I mention anything to you about an appointment or last-minute meeting today?”

His expression clouds. “I can’t help you with this morning.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, puzzled.

“I didn’t see you.”

“You mean I left even earlier than you did?”

“No, Ally, you weren’t here at all. You’ve been gone for two whole days.”





6


I hear his words, but they stall out in my brain.

“Hugh, I don’t understand,” I say. “What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t set eyes on you since Tuesday morning.”

The full-blown panic I experienced this morning had slowly subsided, but it now it rears its head again like a jungle cat catching the scent of prey on the wind.

“But . . . we ordered in.” I think of the vague memory of the evening I’d shared with Dr. Agarwal. “We watched TV.”

“That was Monday night.” Hugh’s expression is pained. “You were in bed when I left the next morning at around—I’d say, seven—and I assumed you were asleep. That was the last time I saw you before I came to pick you up at the hospital.”

My heart races as I grasp the truth. I’ve been so focused on making sense of today that I didn’t give much thought to the days immediately prior. But Tuesday and Wednesday, I now realize, are a total blank. Where the hell was I?

“Why didn’t you explain this to Dr. Agarwal?”

“I wanted to get you out of there, and it seemed that the less said at the moment, the better.”

“But . . . weren’t you worried about where I was?” I say, almost pleading. Why hadn’t Hugh called the police?

“Yes, of course I was, but not because I thought you were in any danger.” He takes a breath, exhales. “We . . . we had a big argument before bed Monday night. I thought you’d gone to stay with a friend for a couple of nights. Gabby, maybe.”

It’s not that odd that his mind went to her. Gabby’s the first important friend I made in New York—we ended up sharing an apartment after we met through mutual friends—and though we’re wildly different, we’ve been close for more than a decade. But the idea of my taking off seems unfathomable.

“Hugh, that’s crazy. How could you think I would just move out for a few days?”

He swipes a hand over his scalp, raking his fingers through his short brown hair. “You said you needed space, that you wanted time alone to think, and so I took you at your word. I tried calling you, of course—a bunch of times. But you never called me back.”

I push myself up from the sofa, stumbling slightly on the edge of the rug.