“Our loft is above Alfred and Charisse’s,” the young woman said. “We didn’t hear anything. I wish we had. Naturally it makes us nervous to be in a building where something like this happened.”

The young man, whose demeanor had turned deadly serious, sighed. “When we bought our loft we were concerned about being in a building where one of the tenants conducted a business. People are coming in and out all the time. It raises security issues.”

“You were nice enough to let us in this morning,” Regan said.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he stated.

“No, you probably shouldn’t have,” Regan agreed, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She gave them her card. “Please give me a call if you come up with anything at all that might be helpful to the investigation.”

“We will.”

As they walked away, Regan turned to Jack and Kit. “Three o’clock in the morning on a dark street like this is a good time to strike. It looks like our guys made a clean getaway. They disappeared without a trace.”

Jack put his arm around her. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

As Regan leaned against his shoulder, her cell phone started to ring.

“Uh-oh,” Kit said as Regan reached in her purse. “Phone calls at this hour don’t bear good tidings.”

“Hello,” Regan said quickly.

“Regan, it’s Brianne. I know it’s late…”

“Hi, Brianne. Sorry we couldn’t make it to the club tonight.”

“Regan, one of the girls we were partying with is missing.”

“Missing?”

“She’s been gone for several hours. She went to the ladies’ room and never came back. I just met her tonight, but her friend Cindy is really worried, and I thought you might be able to help us. Would you speak to Cindy?”

“Of course,” Regan said quickly, then waited as Brianne handed over the phone.

“Hello, Regan?” Cindy said anxiously.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but my friend is gone. It’s not like her to disappear like this. She’s a quiet type. I convinced her to come out with us tonight because her boyfriend is out of town. I can’t reach her on her cell phone or at home.” Her voice broke. “I’m really worried.”

“There could be some logical explanation,” Regan said, trying to sound positive. “Was she arguing with her boyfriend?”

“I don’t think she was thrilled that he went out of town on Saturday night.”

“Maybe she met someone else.”

“She would have let me know if she were leaving. We’ve been driving around for hours looking for her. We drove along the water,” Cindy said, her voice quivering. “We stopped a patrol car, and they said it’s too soon to consider her a missing person. But they said they’d keep an eye out for her.”

“Where are you?” Regan asked.

“We’ve been all over, but right now we’re on Washington Street.”

“I’m on the street in front of Alfred and Charisse’s loft. Why don’t you come by here? It shouldn’t take you long to drive across town, especially at this hour. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“Thanks so much, Regan. I really appreciate your help.”

Ten minutes later a car full of young women pulled up. The earlier excitement of the evening was gone. They were all sobered by Joyce’s absence. Brianne introduced Regan who in turn introduced Jack.

“She’s an adult, and it’s Saturday night,” Jack reminded them. “She could have decided to go someplace else and lost track of time. Did she have much to drink?”

“We were doing tequila shots,” Cindy reported, “and then had wine with dinner. Joyce hardly ever drinks but she seemed okay.”

Oh boy, Regan thought. Tequila is potent. “Where does she live?”

“In Queens. Out by LaGuardia Airport. Across the street from me.”

“Do you have her boyfriend’s number? Or her parents’?” Regan asked.

Cindy shook her head. “No. I’m sure they’re written down somewhere at her house. I feel terrible. It’s my fault. I told her she had to come out tonight. I don’t know what to do.”

Regan and Jack looked at each other. “We should take a ride out to Queens,” Jack said.

Regan nodded.

“Ladies,” Jack said, leaning down to the car window. “Let’s go out to Joyce’s place. Cindy, why don’t you ride with us? I’ll call in her description and make sure all the patrol cars in the area are on the lookout. With any luck she’ll be home sleeping when we get there.”

“Thank you so much,” Cindy said quickly as she opened the car door and jumped out. “We’ve got to find her.”

Joyce felt woozy, and her head was pounding. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt incredibly heavy. She realized she was covered by a blanket. A couple of dogs were asleep at her feet. Where am I? she wondered. Am I dreaming? Joyce groaned and put her hand to her forehead. It was covered with a damp washcloth. She turned and gasped. A woman who had to be pushing eighty, with wild gray hair, a weathered, wrinkled face, and teeth that cried out for a dental hygienist, was leaning over her.

“Missy, how do you feel?” the woman asked in a raspy voice.

Terrified, Joyce thought drowsily. She tried to talk, but it was an effort to say much. “My head hurts,” she uttered. “What happened to me?”

The old lady smiled. “I was just getting home from taking four of my doggies for a walk when you came down the block. Don’t you remember you said how much you love dogs? You bent over to pet them, and my Porgy was so excited he jumped up on you. You got caught up in all their leashes and fell down the steps outside. I felt so bad! You hit your head, and I think you hurt your foot, but I helped you inside my little apartment. I like to take care of people. I want to take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Joyce said. “But I’d better get home.”

“No! You have to rest. The tea you sipped before is special. It will make you feel better.”

“What kind of tea?” Joyce asked. And why am I so out of it? she wondered as she felt her eyes closing. She quickly fell back into a deep sleep.

Joyce’s host shrugged and walked back to the stove, where she resumed stirring a pot of soup. Her four dogs were asleep in the small, cluttered, dimly lit room. “We have to be quiet, fellas,” she whispered to them. “Our company is sleeping and will be for a little while. I hope you guys don’t mind I gave her some of your medicine.” The old woman paused. “It’s so nice to entertain again. I hope she likes my cooking.”

As Jack sped up the FDR Drive, Cindy clenched her fists and stared out the window at the dark waters of the East River. She’d read stories about people who were out for the night, drank too much, and ended up slipping or being pushed into the river’s punishing currents. Not Joyce, she thought, please, not Joyce. “It’s just not like her to leave without saying good-bye,” Cindy blurted out. “She’s quiet and considerate.”

Regan turned around to face Kit and Cindy, who were both in the backseat. “There could be an explanation for this, Cindy,” she said calmly. “People who we are convinced would never act a certain way often surprise us. And she had been drinking. Let’s hope Joyce ended up at another club and is now asleep at home.”

“But she’s still not answering her phone…” Cindy said, her voice trailing off.

Jack had radioed the central dispatcher, who sent out a bulletin that patrol cars in Manhattan, particularly downtown, should be on the alert for a petite twenty-seven-year-old woman with light brown hair and green eyes, last seen wearing blue jeans and a black jacket. Of course that description could fit any number of young women out on Saturday night in New York City. Because she wasn’t considered a missing person yet, it was an unofficial alert. Someone from Jack’s office was calling the area hospitals to see if she had been taken to an emergency room.