Tracking Time by Leslie Glass Read Free Book Online

had the dead silence of emptiness. April's gaze swept the unexceptional living room. White walls, bare except for three large photographs, beige wall-to-wall carpet. Blue sofa, two red club chairs, a simple desk with one drawer. Laptop computer on top. Desk chair with wheels. Above the desk a bookshelf full of medical and psychiatric texts. Another pile of books neatly stacked under the desk. Phone with message light blinking.
    April moved into the bedroom and exhaled. The bed was made, and on it no dead body was waiting for her. There was no body in the bathroom, either. The towels were carefully folded on the towel rack. Hairbrush on the sink with light brown hair in it. She looked in the medicine cabinet. The large quantity of prescription medicines indicated that Atkins either had health problems or was something of a hypochondriac. None of the drug names were familiar to her.
    Back in the bedroom, she found his plastic hospital ID and his wallet under the gray suit, white shirt, and blue-and-red striped tie he must have tossed on the bed before he went out. April looked through the wallet quickly. Stuffed in the billfold compartment were two foil-wrapped condoms that looked as if they'd been mashed in there a long time. She put them back before Woody could see them and make a smart remark. On the floor were black loafers and discarded black socks. It looked as if the doctor had come home, changed, and gone out without his identification. She frowned and moved on. The air conditioner was off. It was hot in the apartment, and a powerful smell of rotting Chinese food emanated from the kitchen. April checked the refrigerator. Diet Coke was the only food group represented. In the garbage were white containers with the gluey leftovers from a Chinese meal that must have been eaten several days ago.
    Back in the living room, Woody hit the play button on the answering machine. By now Regina was in the apartment. All three of them listened to the messages. Two were from Jason, asking him to call right away no matter what time he came in. Two were from the same girl. The first time she said, "I'm-um-really sorry for walking out. You upset me. Please call."
    The next few calls were hang-ups.
    The last call was the same girl voice again. "I don't
want
to explore it in the next session. I need you to talk to me
now
so I don't do something."
    Woody gave April a look. Girl threats were not his favorite thing. April jerked her head. "Let's go."
    "Disgusting." Regina was sniffing around the garbage.
    "Please leave it for now." April said.
    "Are you finished here?"
    "Not quite. I want to talk to the doorman who was on duty last night."
    "That's a lot of trouble for me."
    April gave her a little smile. "You can give me his number at home."
    "I don't have to do that. He's on the day shift today."
    "Fine. Let's go talk to him, and no one else in here until further notice, okay?" April left it to Woody to close up. She was upset by the wallet with Maslow's ID on the bed. This was a sticky situation. As far as she knew no sixty-one had been filed. The missing doc was not her case, not her jurisdiction, but he had become her problem. She had a bad feeling about it and knew she'd have major explaining to do if further investigation of his work, his life, his patients, and the contents of his computer became necessary.

Eight
    I t turned out that Ben, the four-to-eleven-p.m. doorman last night, was filling in on the back elevator today. April and Woody talked to him as they rode up to the fourteenth floor with a Federal Express driver delivering a package.
    "Dr. Atkins came in at seven," Ben told them importantly as the manually operated elevator jerked its way up. "These guys are cops," he told the FedEx driver.
    "No kidding," the man replied without interest.
    The elevator stopped. Ben heaved the doors open, the driver got out, went through the door out into the main hallway, and disappeared. The elevator bell rang, but Ben didn't close the