Emily: "Thanks guys; you were really great to work with. I think I got some really nice shots tonight."
Tristan: "That's it?"
Emily: "That's it. It wasn't so painful after all, was it?"
Tristan: “No, I guess it wasn't.”

James: "You were almost in a trance behind that camera, Punkin. I can't wait to see what you've come up with."
Emily: “I should have the finished photos in a couple of days. I’m excited to see them finished. I’ll be in touch when they’re done, and you guys can come out and get copies if you want.”
Markus: “Oh good, I was going to ask about that. Serge’s been bugging me about a new picture for his office.”

Tristan: “Did you need a ride home or anything? We drove over together, but there’s plenty of room.”
Emily: “Actually no; Mary’s upstairs working. She wanted me to give her a call when I was ready to leave. Thanks anyway.”
James: “We’ll see you in a few days, then. Take care, kitten.”

Emily smiled and waved before going over to her desk to call Mary. She began to feel growing concern as the phone rang several times without being answered. She finally hung up after the eighth ring, turning around in mild confusion. James and Markus were already in the hallway, though Tristan hadn’t moved.

Emily: “She’s not answering; she’s probably got her headphones on too loud or something. I’ll just run up and tell her in person I guess.”
Tristan: “Did you want us to wait?”
Emily: “I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you don’t mind…?”
Tristan: “Not at all.”

Emily hurried up the three flights of stairs to Mary’s studio, slowing when she noticed the door was slightly open. With a deep breath, she pushed aside her growing feeling of unease and walked into the well-lit and eerily empty room.

Emily: "Mary...?"

She took a few tentative steps toward the canvas on the far side of the room. She was only partly aware of footsteps behind her.

Tristan: “Is she not here?”
Emily: “No. I don’t get it. She said she’d give me a ride home when I’d finished the shoot.”
Markus: “Maybe she got called away and expected to be back before we were done.”
James: “Or she could have just forgotten and gone home. You should try calling her there.”
Tristan: “And her cell phone, if she has one.”

Emily nodded distractedly, not wanting to acknowledge the paintbrush lying on the floor, its bristles covered in paint that was still slightly damp. Instead, she turned to the phone on the wall and dialed the number, doing her best to push aside the gnawing sensation of fear that was growing in the pit of her stomach. When the answering machine picked up, she quickly disconnected and dialed Mary’s cell phone number. Instead of ringing at all, it went straight to voicemail.

Emily: “Nothing on either phone.”
Markus: “Check out front for her car. If it’s gone, we’d be happy to give you a ride back to your place.”

Emily nodded silently, carefully leaning over a stack of artwork to look out one of the many large windows. She felt a sinking sensation when she spotted Mary’s car in the darkness.

James: “Is it still here?”
Emily: “Yes.”
James: “Maybe she just went for a quick walk down to the end of the block to pick up some food. There’s a great little deli on the corner.”
Emily: “She’s not usually the flakey type; I just don’t get it.”
Markus: “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

Emily: “I’m going to call Andy.”
Tristan: “Why?”
Emily: “She was working on a project for him tonight; maybe he knows something about where she went. Even if he doesn’t, he could probably be a big help.”

In her distraction and rush to get back to the phone in her office, she didn’t notice the dark look that passed over Tristan’s face. She fumbled around in her purse, digging frantically for Andy’s business card, which had taken on a sudden and strange importance to her. When she finally found it, she dialed the number he’d carefully written out for her on the back, hardly breathing as the phone began to ring.