Maybe… you should just tell her!
Those slurred words from Blaise have been stuck in my head all night. After my third beer yesterday, I had pretty much unwillingly confessed my feelings for Natara to her. She'd acted kind of odd… but then she'd said it. Maybe you should just tell her.
Maybe I should.
My phone is within reach, and Natara is second on my speed dial.
Next only to Ken. I guess I should get to fixing that.
I take a deep breath. I haven't felt this nervous since my first case as a rookie cop. In fact, my palms are sweating. Wow, why are my palms sweating? It's just Natara, right?
It's only smart, beautiful, impossible Natara.
So, I think I've finally realized that the only way this thing is going to happen is if I just pick up the goddamn phone and just call her. Quickly, I snatch it off my table. I slam my finger on the call button with more force than was really necessary, and I bring the phone to my ear. I can feel a drip of sweat on my forehead.
I am overreacting to this, I know it.
I mean, what's the worse that could happen?
She could say no. Maybe she doesn't feel that way about me? What if she only sees me as a friend? How do I know I'm not going to be ruining our entire relationship by doing this? My stomach feels like the tilt-a-whirl at WonderWorld.
Then, I hear her voice.
Apologies, from Natara Williams—I am not able to receive your call at this moment. Please leave a message after the beep. Thank you for calling.
Voicemail? I got her voicemail? It's six o'clock am. How could I have gotten her fucking voicemail? She's sleeping. That's got to be it. She's just sleeping. I just… jumped to conclusions.
But the Natara Williams I know is an incredibly light sleeper. It would have taken far less than her phone—even on vibrate—to wake her. There's no way she wouldn't have woken up. Now I'm starting to feel that horrible belly-ache of dread.
I've call her three more times and each time it's the same.
Apologies, from Natara Williams—I am not able to receive your call at this moment. Please leave a message after the beep. Thank you for calling.
Apologies, from Natara Williams—I am not able to receive your call—
Apologies, from Natara Williams—
Next, I decide to call the Captain. Maybe Natara just called in early for work and left her phone at home.
"SFPD, Captain Maria Yeong speaking."
"Captain, has Natara reported for work yet?"
"Why, no, she hasn't. Is something the matter?"
"I don't know. She's not answering her cell. I'm going to try again and let you know."
"Alright, Detective. Don't worry too much. We all know that Natara is far more than capable of taking care of herself."
"Will do, Captain."
Okay, so Natara is not at work. My next thought makes me sick to my stomach, but I have to do it anyway. I call mister fancy-pants prosecutor, Oscar Santos.
"Hello? Mal?"
"Is Natara there with you?"
"Uh… no, is something the matter?"
"Nope. Bye."
I hang up. The Dashing DA doesn't need to know a thing.
I take a few more deep breaths. I put my phone down. I pick it up again. The last people I think to call are Natara's parents.
A young female voice answers the phone.
"Mansingh residence—how may I help you?" Neha says.
"Neha, is Natara with you?"
"Mal! It's you!"
"Yes, me. So is Natara there?"
"What? Natara? No, I haven't seen her in—"
She breaks off in mid-sentence.
"It's Mal, mom! You know, Natara's boyfriend!" screams Neha to who I presume is Mrs. Mansingh on the other side of the phoneline.
"I-I'm not her boy—" I start stammering, but am cut off by the transferring of the phone.
There is a pause, after which I hear, "Hello? Mal? Is everything alright?"
"I was just calling to ask if Natara was with you at the moment, Ms. Mansingh. Visiting, maybe?"
"I'm sorry, she's not here. Is… is everything alright? She's not in trouble is she?"
"Mrs. Mansingh, I don't want you to worry. She just wasn't answering her phone, I'm sure she's fine."
"Oh, please, I hope she's alright."
"Everything's fine," I lie. "Thank you Mrs. Mansingh."
"Thank you, Mal. Take care of her, alright? It's just that her father worries so much. More than I even do, really."
"Don't worry, even a little bit, I'll find her. She'll be safe."
And I hang up.
Natara is nowhere.
Finally, I take a deep breath. After all other options, allow myself to consider the inevitable. Natara Williams is in trouble. I just know it. I've been doing this job long enough to know it.
Natara has gone missing.
I am just about to run out of my apartment and hail the next cab, but I stop for a second and I think. Natara would know that it wouldn't be best to do this alone. And so, I call the only person I can think of.
"Hello?"
"Blaise, I need your help."
"What with?" she sounds like she's eating cereal.
"I think Natara's been kidnapped."
I hear what must be the cereal spurting out of Blaise's mouth. She coughs a bunch of times, choking slightly on leftover milk.
"What do you mean kidnapped?"
"I don't know who it is yet—and I don't want to jump to any conclusions—but Natara is missing."
"What, did you physically go to her hotel room to check if she wasn't there?"
"Well… no…."
"So?"
"She wasn't answering her phone and…"
"Mal, how do you know she didn't just leave it in her car or something?"
"Well…."
"Way to not jump to conclusions, Mal."
"Okay, you know what? Meet me in front of her hotel room in an hour."
"Alright. Fine. It's always fun to prove you wrong."
"But what if I'm right?"
"Yeah, what if," she laughs.
The horrible feeling in my gut intensifies. I start searching for my keys. Now where did I leave those damn car keys?
