Gone

Chapter Five

The loud buzzing from my phone was what jerked me awake this morning.
I checked the clock.
Nine AM?
No nightmares... I almost laughed aloud. For the first time in five years, no nightmares. No waking up in the middle of the night. Nothing.
I answered my phone with a cheerful, "Hello?"
"Hey Dix."
I smiled, he had started to give me nicknames. Not that I minded, quite on the contrary in fact, I hadn't had anybody call me by a nickname since.. well, since five years ago. My smile faded.
"So, I've maybe got a lead.."
It came back almost instantly, "Seriously?"
"Maybe. I've spent all morning checking out women with the last name Dawson whose jobs don't quite match up with how much they've been spending."
"No, she wouldn't have kept her last name." I replied, shaking my head.
"And how do you know?" I could hear the smirk in his voice, "Leave the investigating to the investigator, Dix, remember the last time you tried to be a PI?"
I snorted, "Please, you're one to talk. Remember the last time you tried to confront me about my identity?"
He laughed, and I couldn't help giggling myself, his laugh was contagious, it was annoying sometimes, especially when I didn't want to laugh.
"Moving on... How about we schedule an appointment for later to meet up, once I have some more info."
"Sounds good, what time?" I nibbled my lower lip, thinking, "I'm planning on picking up some groceries at one, after then?"
"I'll come before, that way I can help you."
I smiled, "You don't-"
"I insist, besides, I've got to grab a few things myself."

"Fine." I somewhat reluctantly agreed.

"Catch you then." He replied, and hung up.

I slowly placed it back on my bedside table, contemplating.

I couldn't deny I enjoyed his company, the question was, did he enjoy mine as well?

I shrugged of the question, of course he didn't, I was a paying client, if I wasn't then he wouldn't be doing this.

I crawled out of bed and got myself ready for my day.
I felt strangely upbeat, so I decided to attempt to do my makeup.

I did a poor job, so I didn't even attempt to put on eyeliner, I was extremely out of practice.

Some smudged mascara and lip gloss would have to do.

Slipping on my headphones and unpausing my music, I strolled out of the house and glanced up and down the street, debating going on a quick run.

Bastille's harmonic voice whispered into my ear, driving me forward as I gasped for breath.

Gosh, I'm more out of shape then I thought I was...

As I rounded the corner, I made a mental note to work out more often.

***

Camden fidgeted with a pen as he once again searched the list of information, trying to get something from it.
Nothing. His ADD was not cooperating.
Chuckling drily, he decided to go out for coffee, it usually helped.
Some days were better than others.
He ruefully remembered his teenage years, and how it had affected them.
Well, at least it made for a good multitasker as an adult.
As he ordered his coffee online, he scanned the list again.
There was a match.
A Mrs. Joanna Dawson, living just an hour north of here.
He grinned. A great way to spend his morning.

***

Special Agent Jay Lang contemplated his choices at his desk in his home.
Should he have let it go that easily?
He found himself picking at one of his scabs again.
A nasty habit of his.
Sighing, he decided to go out for a drink, perhaps it would help him think.
The drive wasn't too long, and soon he found himself walking inside and ordering.
He sat down on one of their lounge couches. The coffee shop was small, but they were getting plenty of business. He smiled. They had definitely grown in popularity in the last year.
He fondly recalled the good old days when he used to come here every day to work on Elody's case.
He faltered. That was too close.
Even thinking her real name too often could lead to a slip, and saying her first name, real or not, was too informal. He had to keep it professional.
Five years. Five years he had known her. Five years they had kept their relationship strictly professional.
Suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat caught his attention, his gaze jerked up, searching for the source of the sound.
It was a man who looked to be around his age.
"This seat taken?" He asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to Jay.
"Nope."
He sat, then smiled at him, "Sorry if I bothered you, you just look familiar."
Jay frowned slightly, "Do I?"
"Names McKay. Camden McKay."
"No, don't think I've met you before." Jay dismissed, hoping the stranger would drop it and leave. He needed to concentrate.
"Oh, I remember! I saw you on TV, there was a murder investigation a couple years ago, the Dawson family."
Jay cocked a brow.
"I tend to take an interest in those things, I'm-" He began, but then hesitated, "I'm an enthusiast in murder mystery books." He finished slowly.
Jay smiled drily, "Unfortunately, books certainly aren't like reality."
"Actually, there are plenty of informative ones, you know. Ever read a Good Girl's Guide To Murder?"
Jay sighed in exasperation, "No, but it sounds good." He tried to be enthusiastic.
Honestly, he just wasn't a people person most of the time.
His eyes desperately searched the front of the shop, hoping his drink would be done soon, and then he could take it and run.
"And you?"
"Me what?" Jay snapped. He cursed inwardly.
Could you at least try to be friendly? He scolded himself.
"Your name?" His friend appeared to have caught on to Jay's enthusiasm, because his warm tone dropped.
Jay eyed him, wondering if he was an opponent rather than a friendly acquaintance.
Then again, he couldn't really blame him, his treatment of him wasn't exactly what you would call kind.
"Jay Lang." He replied with the same cool tone McKay had adopted.
They eyed each other for a few moments, until McKay let up.
"Want to be friends... or would you like me to leave?" He raised a brow.
He had to admit, he was curious. McKay was certainly observant, and skilled with adapting.
Something common with people involved in police work.
He let up, "Friends."
He offered his hand, and McKay shook it.
"So, how's work going?"
One of the employees called Jay's name, so he stood to get his drink, McKay following him, listening intently.
"Pretty good. We've gotten nearly nowhere with that case, if you're wondering."
"Really? No progress in five years?"
Jay shrugged, "It's hard to get a lead when the only witness can't remember a thing."
"Can't remember?" McKay asked.
They took their seats again, and Jay continued, "Yeah."
"Memory loss?"
"Probably from the stress of the event. That, and she was stabbed three times."
McKay winced. "Ouch."
Jay nodded. "She-" He stopped, time for a change in subject. "She is doing well. How about you? What do you do?" He took a sip of his coffee while he waited for McKay's response.
"Real estate."
"Ah, nice. My cousin went into real estate, earns a fair wage. Married?"
"Nah, single. You?"
"Once." Jay smiled wistfully, "Best four years of my life, so far."
"Divorced, then? The ladies must love that." He chuckled.
Jay shook his head, his smile disappearing. "Cancer."
McKay's smile was quickly replaced with a frown. "I'm so sorry."
Jay gave a slight shrug, "It was six years ago. I can barely remember her laugh anymore. Once it was the only thing that got me through my day."
McKay fell silent, the solemnity of the moment leaving no room for further comments.
It was someone else who broke the silence, a woman, "Ya'll havin' a good time?"
Her smile radiated cheer.
Jay fell silent, like always around woman.
McKay spoke up rather quickly, however, with confidence, "Certainly. You?"
"Oh I've had a good day, went shopping this mornin', say, either of you see a brunette walk into here, about... yey high?" She held out a hand just a few inches above her own height, which Jay estimated to be about five six.
"No, I'm afraid not. You waiting for her?"
She smiled, "Bingo. She's late as well," Frowning slightly, she took another step forward, "Oh well, thank you anyways, you gentlemen have a good rest of your day now," She finished cheerfully, making her way to a nearby seat.
The two young men watched her leave, the silence once again undisturbed until McKay grinned at Jay, "Cat got your tongue?"
Jay pressed his hand to his forehead, "Out of practice."
Was all he said.
"Here." McKay slipped a piece of paper under Jay's coffee cup. "I've got places to be, hit me up if you ever need anything."
Jay scrunched his brows together, reading the paper quickly.
It was McKay's phone number.
He was taken aback. No one ever gave him their phone number.
Most of the people he talked to are either prisoners, or fellow marshals.
He had never had a friend before. Not since Becky.
He wondered what he could possibly ever need from Camden McKay, and concluded that he would never need anything, so he proceeded to toss the slip of paper into the trash can, satisfied that he could use the rest of his day well without distraction.

***

Did I join Wattpad to become a serious writer? Yes, yes I did. Did I end up telling cringe worthy jokes at the end of every chapter? ...Definitely not.
Speaking of cringey jokes...
HAH! You thought I was going to tell a joke! Well you were wrong!
I am, however, still going to ask for votes.
Sorry.