Free Diners, Dives & Dead Ends by Terri L. Austin

started.
    “He’s missing,” I said, “and
I’m very worried about him.”
    “Would you like some
coffee?”
    “Sheila, I don’t want to get
involved in this.” 
    She gently shoved him aside
and opened the door wider.  “You are involved, Pack.  He’s your brother.”
    I stepped into the house. 
    “Thanks,” I said, leaving
Packard standing by the door.  The faint scent of dinner lingered, leaving a
garlicky smell behind.  Whatever they had, it was better than salmon.
    The foyer walls were
decorated in soft earth tones and rose into cove ceilings.  The wrought iron
banister on my right twisted toward the second story.
    “As you heard, I’m Sheila.” 
She walked further into the house.  “This way.” 
    I followed her to the homey
kitchen.  Copper pans hung on a rack above the island range.  Hot pads and a
newspaper lay on the granite counter.
    Sheila grabbed a mug from
the cabinet next to the sink and poured me a cup of coffee.  “Cream or sugar?”
    “Yes to both, please.”  I
heard Packard walk in behind me.
    “You’d better sit down,” he
said. 
    It was a half-assed
invitation, but I took it and hopped up on one of the stools at the island. 
Sheila passed me the mug and I took a sip.  “I take it you haven’t heard from Axton?”
    Packard grabbed a stool next
to me and Shelia leaned against the sink.  There was a long pause.  “Actually,
he did call me a couple of nights ago,” he said.
    “Monday night?”
    “Yeah.”  He waved his hand
dismissively.
    My stomach fluttered.  “Is
he all right?  What did he say?  Where is he?”   
    Packard held up a finger. 
“First of all, I could hardly hear him.  And second, he never said where he
was.”
    “Did he call from his cell?”
    “I don’t know.  I guess.” 
He shrugged a beefy shoulder.
     “You didn’t tell me Axton
called,” Sheila said.  “What exactly is going on here, Pack?”
    “I didn’t tell you because this
isn’t our concern, Sheila.”
    “What did he say?”  I wanted
to beat this guy like a piñata until he spilled all the information he knew.
    “He said he needed help.  I
assumed it was financial and told him no.  Either that or he was arrested
again.  Then we were disconnected.  I assumed he hung up.”
    “You do a lot of assuming,
Packard,” I said.  “Are you sure you didn’t hear anything else?  Background
noises, other voices?”
    “God,” he snapped, “I
already told you no.  I didn’t hear anything else.  It was a ten second phone
call.”
    Sheila crossed her arms. 
“Again, what is going on?”
    I gave them the scoop on
Axton’s vanishing act and ended with BJ and Henry breaking into my apartment. 
When I finished, both Packard and Sheila were silent.
    I sipped my coffee and
waited.
    “He gave you his backpack,
but you don’t know why?” Sheila asked.
    “The only thing I can figure
is there’s something on the computer or the internal hard drive.  His boss,
Eric, is working on it.”
    “And this man who broke into
your apartment, he wanted Axton?  Did he say why?” Sheila asked.
    I thought back to Gold Eyes
prowling around my apartment, touching my stuff, making threats.  “No, but I
need to find Axton before he does.”
    “He’s probably a dealer. 
Axton’s been arrested twice, for God’s sake,” Packard said.
    “Oh come on, Pack,” Sheila
huffed out a breath, “he was caught with a joint.  It’s not like you’ve never
done it.”
    “Hey,” he pointed a finger
at her, “I haven’t made a lifestyle of it.”  He was big with the finger pointing.
    And okay yes, Ax had been
arrested at routine traffic stops last year.  Got popped once because of a
joint and once with a dime bag.     
    Since Sheila was the only
one who seemed to give a crap, I directed my comment to her.  “This isn’t about
drugs and Ax always tells me if he’s going somewhere—even if it’s for a couple
of days.  I really just came by to see if you’d