Page 10 of Holmes, Margaret and Poe

Bree had never seen Elena smoke before. Or pace, for that matter. Bree’s boss, the founder and CEO of the international security firm the Bluestone Group, was ordinarily unflappable and always put together.

Not that morning. No chic Chanel suit. No designer shoes. Elena wore faded blue sweatpants, old running shoes, and a dark windbreaker. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she wore dark sunglasses despite the overcast sky.

Elena checked her watch when she caught sight of Bree. “At least one of you is on time,” Elena said. She stubbed the cigarette out in a potted plant.

“Who are we waiting on?”

Two young, well-dressed men came out of the apartment complex. After they were out of earshot, Elena said, “The personal assistant of a dear friend of mine who hasn’t been in touch with anyone in any way in three days.”

“And that’s unusual?”

“In the extreme,” Elena said. “Leigh Anne — she lives in this building, which is why we’re here — is one of those people who have to be connected. Always. If she doesn’t have at least one of her cells on, she feels like she’s stranded on a desert island.”

“How do you know Leigh Anne’s phones aren’t on?”

“She’s not answering my texts and when I call either number, it goes straight to voice mail, both of which were full as of shortly before that plane crash last night. I heard it, you know. It rattled the windows on my place.”

Bree saw her boss’s hands shake as she fished in her wind-breaker and came up with a pack of Winstons and a lighter.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Elena.”

“Until last night, I hadn’t smoked in fifteen years,” she said, looking disgusted as she stuffed the pack of cigarettes back in her pocket without lighting one.

Bree said, “I guess I’m not completely understanding why your friend going silent over a weekend has got you this upset.”

Elena tore off her sunglasses. She wore no makeup to conceal the dark rings under her eyes. “Leigh Anne is more than my best friend, Bree. We’re like sisters,” she said. “Close sisters. We text or talk two or three times a day and have since we were college roommates. Leigh Anne Asher does not go radio silent. Especially on me.”

Leigh Anne Asher. Bree had heard the name somewhere but couldn’t remember where.

Her boss said, “She’s the founder and CEO of Amalgam.They do IT, huge subscription service, incredible volume of government work. And they’re about to go public, which is another reason Leigh Anne would not cut everyone off. This is something she’s worked toward, sacrificed for, for more than a decade to achieve. It will make her an instant billionaire.”

“Maybe the pressure of that got to her and she needed some space,” Bree said.

“No,” Elena said. “Leigh Anne is good with the stress. She meditates twice a day, and she’s been looking forward to taking a long break after the IPO. She booked a private jet to take us and some other friends to Fiji for three weeks.”

“When does the stock go public?”

“Next Tuesday. And we’re supposed to go to Fiji three days later.”

A freckle-faced redhead in her mid-to late twenties hurried up to them, breathing hard. “I’m so sorry, Elena. The Metro car stopped for ten minutes.”

“It’s fine. You have the keys?”

“Yes. And I know most of the security guards,” the young woman said. She looked at Bree. “Jill Jackson. I’m personal assistant to Ms. Asher.”

“Bree Stone. I work for Elena.”

“And she used to be chief of detectives for Metro PD,” Elena said. “Let’s go inside.”

Jill Jackson nodded uncertainly and walked toward the front door. “It’s worth a shot, I guess, but like I said earlier, she’s not living here, she’s staying at an apartment in Alexandria. This apartment is still being renovated.”

“It’s the only place we haven’t checked,” Elena said firmly.

They went inside. The security guard recognized Asher’s assistant and when she said they wanted to check on therenovations, he waved them through. Elena asked the guard when Leigh Anne Asher had last been there. He checked his computer and said at ten in the morning on Friday.

“What time did she leave?” Bree asked.

“We don’t track that.”

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