Nano

CHAPTER 48

Paul Caldwell had stayed at work at the hospital for more than an hour after his shift was due to end. He was exhausted, and gripped with anxiety about Pia, but there were hospital cases he couldn’t abandon, even under these circumstances. It had been twenty-two hours since Pia had left his sight without getting in touch with him, and by the time Paul drove back to Pia’s apartment, he was convinced something had happened to her.

Once more, he rang her bell, even banged on the door in frustration, and called her name. As he waited, a door down the hall opened a sliver and an elderly woman’s voice called out.

“Do you mind, young man? It’s very late.”

“Excuse me, I apologize. May I have a word?” Paul walked toward the voice, and heard the chain going on the door. “I’m a doctor.”

“I can see that,” said the woman. She had mostly closed the door, exposing only a three-inch vertical slice of her face and one eye. “It’s the coat. It’s the only reason I haven’t shut the door. What do you want with that young woman? I think I have seen you before. Is she your girlfriend?”

“She’s a friend. I’m worried about her. I haven’t seen her in a couple of days.”

“I have seen you here before. You’re only the third man I’ve seen visit her. Another one tried to visit her, but she wouldn’t let him. I was about to call the police. She doesn’t know I’ve seen people, but I have. I mean, I don’t see everybody, but I see a lot.”

“Look, madam, may I come in?”

“You may not. I saw her last night around this time. I don’t sleep too well at night, and I hear things like with you coming here now. She came home just about this time, and she was carrying her clothes.”

“Excuse me?” Paul said. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “She was carrying her clothes. You mean she was naked?” That seemed hard to believe.

“No, she wasn’t naked. For some reason she had on her undergarments and was holding her clothes. And a camera, I think. I saw her, but she didn’t see me. I don’t know if I should be telling you this or not.”

“I’m glad you are. Did you see her again last night?”

“Yup. Wasn’t too much after she’d come home that she went back out again. This time she had her clothes on and was in a hurry. I mean, I don’t understand you young people, surely I don’t.”

“Did you see her after that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t see her at all today or hear anything?”

“No, I didn’t, but I sleep more in the day than during the night. I don’t know why.”

“Have you seen anyone else?”

“Yes. I saw you this morning. And a man who looked like a police officer was leaving the building earlier, but I don’t know which apartment he was in. It’s not like I stand here all day spying on people, you know.”

“I’m sure you don’t, madam.”

“Well, if you’re a friend, the key’s on top of the door. But you know that already.” And the door closed, indicating the conversation was over.

Paul checked the angle from the woman’s door to Pia’s and figured that she could see Pia’s door only if she had her own door open slightly, as she just had. It was likely she could miss someone coming or going unless she spent the whole day peering out through the crack in the door. If she heard a noise — and her hearing seemed reasonable — and she went to the peephole, she wouldn’t be able to see anything.

Which meant that Pia still might be inside.

Paul went back to Pia’s door. Taking the key down, he opened up.

“Be here, Pia. Be here,” he said quietly. But she wasn’t.

She had been here, though. There were signs of life about the place. A half-empty half-gallon carton of milk stood on the kitchen counter next to a copy of the Monday’s Denver Post. Paul went into Pia’s bedroom, and her chest of drawers was open and apparently some of her clothes gone. He checked in the bathroom and there was no toothbrush, although he couldn’t swear there had been one there earlier.

Paul digested the information he had gleaned. Pia had been here, but why hadn’t she been in touch? Was it so imperative that she leave that she would do so without so much as a text? Paul thought it unlikely. No, it wasn’t unlikely, it was impossible. He looked at the copy of the newspaper and the carton of milk. Did Pia drink milk? He had never seen more than a pint of milk in the fridge, and there was no new box of cereal to account for using so much. And a newspaper. To Paul’s recollection, he had never seen Pia read a local newspaper. And why buy one only to leave it behind, obviously unread? Paul tried to think like Pia would, first about the worst-case scenario to explain a series of events. Someone had been here and tried to make it look as if Pia had been here. Whoever was behind this was trying to establish a timeline, and what better way to do it than with a newspaper?

Continuing to think along those lines, Paul went over to Pia’s Mac and tapped on a key. The screen came to life, and showed an open MapQuest Web page, with driving directions to a nanotechnology research laboratory in New Jersey. That’s a little too convenient, thought Paul. But then again, in the absence of Pia herself to say otherwise, how else would anyone explain what he had found in the apartment?

Paul suddenly felt very uneasy, and he left Pia’s apartment as quietly as he was able to, carefully replacing the spare key. He looked down the hall, but the old lady’s door was closed. The thought went through his mind that if Pia was really gone and there was an investigation, would he be a suspect?

He sat in his car in the parking lot pondering his options. In the morning he would call the police, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t do anything. Before that, there was one call he could make and be sure of a quick response. He looked in his phone’s contact list and found the number for George Wilson.