15
1353 Words
Two days later.
The documents from the southern district packs were stacked on the left side of my desk. I was checking the financial reports when a sharp knock sounded against the wood.
"Sir, I'm back," Garrett's voice came through the panel.
I stood up immediately. My chair scraped loudly against the floor. I walked straight to the entrance and pulled the handle back myself.
Garrett stood in the hallway, his boots dusty. He stepped back a fraction, his eyes dropping to my boots. "You shouldn't have opened it, sire. You would have asked me to come in myself and I would have."
"Why didn't you respond to my messages?" I asked. My voice was straight, but my fingers tightened against the edge of the door.
Garrett shifted his weight from one foot to the sure. "So sorry that I didn't, sire. I am still not used to taking phones along with me."
"Skip the part," I said, cutting him off with a single movement of my hand. "Just tell me. Have you gotten any information on her?"
Garrett looked down, his shoulders tense. "I apologize, sir"
My heart slammed against my ribs. The logic of the situation was failing. This one was prioritizing apologies over data. It was not good news.
"The only thing I could find was her name," Garrett said.
A sudden relief loosened the muscles in my jaw. The pressure in my chest dropped by an increment. "Yeah. What was her name?"
Garrett looked up, his expression entirely serious. As my personal assistant and executioner, he knew the parameters of our operations. "Her name is Margaux Voss. The spelling is M-A-R-G-A-U-X, then the Voss is V-O-S-S. She used to stay at the Calloway estate. She was the caregiver of Mr. and Mrs. Calloway."
I waited for the rest of the information.
"She stayed there for three years," Garrett continued, checking a small notebook. "But now they said she left a note and she disappeared.” He looked up “No, she was nowhere to be found."
I turned my back to him, staring at the empty desk. "She disappeared. And she didn't take the money."
The data did not match any standard female behavior in our district. Five million dollars remained on that table .
"What could possibly be the reason why she disappeared?" I muttered to the glass window.
"I have no further leads on her current location , sire," Garrett said.
"No problem," I said, not turning around. "You can go."
"Forgive me, sir," Garrett said one more time before the door clicked shut behind him.
I began pacing around the rug. Five steps left. Five steps right. At least now that I had gotten her name, the parameters of the search had changed. I could go to Ashenmere by myself and look for her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, the sun was barely out when I started the engine. I made sure that I left on time.
The drive to the city was direct. I navigated the streets until the stone gates of the Calloway estate appeared. I parked, walked up the front steps, and knocked hard against the heavy door entrance.
The door opened.
It was not the elderly woman from the previous week. A young girl in a maid's uniform stood there. Her breath hitched as she looked up at my face. She didn't move. Her eyes stayed glued to my chest, then my jaw, blinking rapidly.
"I am looking for Mrs. Calloway," I said.
The girl didn't answer. She won't stop looking at me, her fingers twirling and twisting the fabric of her white apron.
I let out a dry, sharp cough to break the stagnation.
"Oh my God," the girl gasped, her face instantly turning red. She looked down at the floorboards, her posture completely rigid. "I am so sorry. What did you... who did you say you were looking for?"
"I am looking for Margaux Voss," I said. My voice was slow and precise.
The girl’s eyes wavered, shifting from the floor to the wall behind me. She was visibly tensed, her thumbs digging into her palms. "Why... why are people searching for her?"
"That's not what I asked you," I said, stepping an inch closer. The air in the foyer went completely still. "I asked you who Margaux Voss is."
The girl began trembling, her skin turning pale. She took a small step backward into the hallway. "She... she's a caregiver here. But she suddenly disappeared weeks back. Ever since then, we haven't heard from her."
"Where, do you know where she came from?" I asked. "What did she do before this?"
"The old man and the old lady, they went to the hospital today," the girl whispered, her voice shaking. "It's just me here. I'm Clara. I know... I know she used to work at a pharmacy in Ashenmere. The pharmacy down there. And she was also working at the bakery. There are shops there. If you go into the pharmacy, you'll be able to like get a lead."
"The name of the pharmacy?"
"Ashenmere Pharmacy," Clara stammered.
I reached into my breast pocket, pulled out my checkbook, and wrote a standard amount on the top sheet. I ripped it off and shoved it into her trembling hand without looking back. I didn't care if Clara checked what's inside. I turned and left the house.
The vehicle pulled up outside the brick storefront forty minutes later.
I opened the door and stepped onto the concrete sidewalk. My presence spoke before I even approached the entrance. On the left, a woman rolling a baby stroller stopped completely, her eyes tracking my movement. Inside the glass windows, the two attendants behind the counter were already staring at me through the display cases.
I pushed the door open. The small bell rang overhead.
The staff remained motionless, their eyes wide.
"I don’t mean any harm" I said, looking directly at the nearest worker. "Relax and continue your daily job."
The two attendants blinked, then slowly lowered their heads to begin rearranging the plastic medicine bottles on the shelves.
A heavy-set security guard moved from the back aisle, stopping three feet away from my position. He scanned my suit. "Who are you looking for, sir?"
"I am looking for the owner of this pharmacy," I said.
A door at the back of the counter opened. An older woman with short gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses stepped out. She looked at the guard, then at me. "Yeah. This is Margaret. I own the shop."
"I am sorry that I am interrupting your working hours," I said, my voice completely restrained. "I am looking for someone."
Margaret adjusted her glasses, studying my face. "Who could you be looking for?"
"Margaux Voss," I said. "If you know anybody like her."
The old lady’s face completely changed. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she let out a short breath. "I used to wonder why I haven't seen anybody around her. No friends, no family. But now that you came to look for her, I feel so... I feel so better now. At least I know for a fact that she isn't lonely."
A sudden wave of relief settled into my chest. The analysis was correct; this lady knew her history.
"She worked for me for a year," Margaret said, leaning her forearms against the glass counter. "Before she went to the bakery. She was a good girl, but she never talked about where she came from.."
I listened, tracking the details. The conclusion was becoming clear: Margaux Voss was a completely lonely person. She had no body supporting her.
"Thank you," I said.
I walked down the block to the bakery. The setting was the same. The workers inside recognized the name, but the information was identical to the pharmacy records. They showed me the small staircase leading to the room where she used to stay, pointing out the layout of her old space.
I didn't get any new location data from them about Margaux's current location. But the assessment was now fixed in my mind.
- Writer
