Nine
Austin
I’m slouched behind my desk near the end of the day on Thursday when Crystal bursts through the office door, her eyes wild. “You have to tell Justin to come home,” she pleads, hands trembling.
“Crystal, honest—we don’t know where he is,” I assure her, pushing up from my chair. The room feels too small for her panic, walls closing in with every hitched breath she takes.
Theo appears behind her and steps closer, his voice soothing. “Crystal, how about we go grab something to eat? You need to eat something.”
She nods, a fragile bird caught in a snare of fear, and allows Theo to guide her out. “I’ll meet you guys later,” he calls over his shoulder.
I watch them go, my stomach clenching. It should be Justin calming her down, not us.
“Man, this is messed up,” Rhys mutters beside me.
I can only nod in agreement.
“Mason said they’d meet us at Rooftop 25 this evening?” Rhys says, glancing at his watch.
“Yeah. Should be the perfect day for it.” I try for lightness, but it feels hollow.
“Is there any word on Justin?” Rhys asks.
I shake my head as I watch Crystal fall apart in Theo’s office through the glass. My heart hurts for her. “We should check with Jim over at Clear Security. I’ll send him a note.”
“Let me know what he says.” Rhys eyes are glued to Crystal.
Instead of emailing Jim, I call him.
He picks up on the first ring. “Austin?”
“Hi. Yeah, it’s Austin over at EnergiFusion. Listen, Justin’s mom left this morning, and Crystal, his wife, is here now and very upset. Is there anything we can tell her?”
Jim sighs. “We’ve had reported sightings in Los Angeles and San Diego, but we’ve not found him. It seems like he’s switching from one alias to another.”
What ? My stomach plummets. That’s just crazy, like a movie or something. “What about the money?”
“We’re stuck in Switzerland right now,” Jim says. “It bounced out of the Caymans, and we traced a move to the Dominican Republic, the Maldives, and then Switzerland. We’ll get it, but it takes some time.”
“From your perspective, what should we be doing?”
“Change all your passwords, and once we trace the money to where it’s sitting, we’ll freeze it.”
“Is there any evidence that Justin did this under duress or that he’s been kidnapped?”
“Not at this point. He transferred the money using his laptop from his home earlier in the week he disappeared, and Crystal told us nothing about his behavior stood out.”
“What do the police have?”
Jim snorts. “Absolutely nothing. But we’ve got a team working on this. We’ll find him.”
“Thanks.” Once we disconnect, I take a moment to breathe. None of this makes any sense at all. What could be making Justin do this?
Sometime later, Rhys pops his head back into my office. “Hey. Are you ready to head out?”
I look at the clock, and I’ve been stuck in my head for better than an hour. “Sure.” We head downstairs, and Rhys and I pile into the Suburban Steve’s driving. As we drive, I tell Rhys what Jim said.
“Switzerland?” Rhys asks. “Crystal has talked about that before. I wonder if they set up an account there. Maybe Jim should ask her.”
I nod. “I’ll send him a text.”
“But let him know, she’s very sensitive right now,” Rhys adds. “She and Justin’s mom spent the week going round and round with SFPD and got nowhere.”
The car glides to a stop. The Mission is alive with the hum of the city, and Rooftop 25 offers a sanctuary above it all. We travel up and settle around the high-top table where Mason Sullivan and Dillon Healy are already sitting. The skyline is a glittering backdrop, and we can see into Oracle Field, which is swarming with fans. We occasionally hear their cheers.
“Beers?” Mason asks, waving over a server. “Where’s Theo?”
“Sure,” I reply. “He’s helping Crystal at the moment. She came by the office this afternoon. He’s still planning to come, but we don’t have to wait for him to eat.”
“So burgers all around?” Dillon adds, earning a collective nod.
Once the server has taken our orders, we relax with our beers for a few minutes, moving from work mode into something a little more relaxed. Though I know there’s work-related discussion on the agenda tonight.
Sure enough, eventually Dillon turns to Rhys. “I know Theo’s not here yet, but I do have a few questions we can start with. What exactly made that transfer of money stand out?”
Rhys leans back, the sun glinting off his glasses. “Well, the sheer size of the transaction, for one thing. Justin and I had talked about a couple of other odd transfers he’d made in the previous month, but he always had an explanation. And it wasn’t anywhere near the billion-dollar mark.”
“Only you two can move that kind of money?” Dillon presses.
“Right,” Rhys confirms.
The conversation halts as our dinner arrives—juicy burgers, fries, green stuff some people call a salad, and more cold beers that do little to fill the void of Justin’s absence. We eat mechanically. It’s hard to focus on food when so much is entirely incomprehensible right now.
“The Prospectors are doing well this season, huh?” Rhys says, attempting normalcy as he takes a long swig of beer. “Though the World Series may not be in their future.”
“It’s only April,” I quip, forcing a chuckle. But my heart isn’t in it. I take a bite of my burger, chewing slowly, thoughts on the tangled mess we’ve found ourselves in.
Eventually, the amber glow of the setting sun casts long shadows across the restaurant, and the cityscape transforms into silhouette. Cool breeze brushes my skin as Mason leans in.
“Was anyone at the company having issues with Justin?” he asks.
Rhys and I exchange a quick, loaded glance before I take a deep breath. “Growing pains,” I explain, rolling my beer bottle between my hands. “We weren’t all on the same page. I thought Justin was taking the wrong approach with our focus, and he knew it.”
Mason’s brows knit. “But we agreed to pivot toward the overall lithium-battery market. That was clear.”
“We did,” I confirm, feeling a twinge of guilt. “But Justin wasn’t fully convinced, and we had it out after everyone left. It got heated. We were in each other’s faces, screaming about strategy. That was the last time I spoke to him.”
Mason shakes his head. “Why would he tell us one thing if he believed something else?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug helplessly. “And Crystal is staying mum about the argument. The police haven’t asked me about it at all. I’m sure he told her. She and I have never meshed well. I thought she’d hip-check me right under the bus to the police.”
“Maybe she doesn’t think it’s relevant,” Rhys suggests, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Maybe,” I concede.
“Okay, apart from that, what about delivery dates for the EV batteries?” Dillon asks. “I heard there’ve been problems.”
“Problems is putting it lightly,” I say, grimacing. “eBattery is becoming a big competitor, and they’re breathing down our necks. Our sodium-ion vendor is late giving us product, and now with these fires…”
“Can we do anything to help?” Mason asks.
“If you can light a fire under Maloney Chemical, that would be fantastic.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Mason smirks. “Have you guys heard from Jim at Clear Security?” he asks.
“I spoke with him today.” I take another sip of my beer. “He’s working on tracing the missing money. And he thinks Justin maybe using aliases as he moves around.”
Theo arrives and plops down in the open seat. A beer is immediately placed in front of him.
“How did it go with Crystal?” Rhys asks before I can.
“Crystal’s… She’s not doing great,” Theo says. “She’s all over the place—keeps flip-flopping between theories about Justin running off with some woman or lying hurt somewhere or hiding in Mexico.”
“Did she give any indication that she knows more?” Mason presses.
“Nothing concrete. She swears she hasn’t heard from him.” Theo takes a long pull from his beer, and his expression darkens. “I believe her.”
Before I can catch myself, the words tumble out. “You’re not involved with her, right?”
“Come on, Austin. You know me better than that,” Theo says. His gaze meets mine, clear and honest. “I’ve only ever seen Crystal as a friend.”
I’m not entirely sure that’s true, but maybe that’s just how it looks from my perspective. He and Crystal have always gotten along better than the rest of us. “Good.” I nod, swallowing the unwelcome taste of suspicion. “Just making sure.”
I steer us away from the murky waters of personal entanglement, back to the reality we can’t escape. “There’s more on the EnergiFusion front. Michigan Highway Patrol hasn’t wrapped up their investigation, but they’ve confirmed the battery is the reason for the latest car fire.”
“Shit,” Rhys mutters. “What’s that mean for us?”
“Millions in damages to the bridge they want us to cover.” The numbers spin in my head, staggeringly huge. “And we gave them a list of serial numbers by automaker. It will allow them to compare the batteries to see what they had in common. Is it a bad lot? Or maybe there’s a problem with some of the materials we used.”
“Think this will blow over?” Dillon asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.
“Far from it.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of every decision I’ve ever made for EnergiFusion. “The NHTSA’s kicking off an investigation too.”
“Into the batteries?” Mason clarifies.
“Yep, they want batteries to test. They’ve already done a review of the factory. And they have questions.” I take a sip of my beer. We’re in uncharted territory, and I can’t shake the feeling that things are only going to get rougher from here.
“Look,” Theo says. “Back to Justin for a moment… The police haven’t done anything since they took our statements, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. We should probably find some legal representation.”
Mason nods, already thumbing at his phone. “Grantham Wilks,” he announces. “He’s a hawk in the courtroom. I’ll set us up.” His fingers move swiftly, and seconds later, his phone buzzes. “He’ll be reaching out.”
“Good,” I reply. “We need all the help we can get.”
Rhys shifts beside me, clearing his throat. “So Jim said Justin could be using aliases… How could he have left the country without pinging his passport? Could he have a bunch of identities?”
“This is what Crystal is asking.” Theo takes a deep draw on his beer.
“Or maybe someone took him from the country, rather than him going on his own,” I suggest, though I hate even putting that out there.
“So what, you think this is foul play?” Mason asks.
“Justin wouldn’t steal from EnergiFusion and take off,” Rhys asserts firmly. “He was too wrapped up in this company. Foul play is the only thing that makes sense.”
“Damn it,” I mutter.
“None of this adds up,” Theo adds quietly.
“Agreed,” I say, finding solace in the collective disbelief. “We have to find him.”
“Before things spiral any further out of control,” Mason finishes, his gaze on the city below.
I drum my fingers on the table. “This must be foul play,” I murmur. “Justin’s made a fortune with EnergiFusion—we all did. Why would he need to steal?”
“Exactly,” Theo agrees. “And he’s not the type. If he was desperate for cash, why wouldn’t he come to us?”
Mason nods. “So, we’re all in agreement then? This disappearance isn’t about the missing money. It’s something else.”
“Right,” Rhys confirms. “It’s got to be something else.”
“Do you think Crystal’s holding back information?” Mason asks.
Theo’s response is immediate. “She’s genuinely upset. It’s not an act.” I catch a glimpse of emotion on his face before he schools it back to neutral.
“Crystal might be a lot of things, but she’s not behind this,” I weigh in. “I don’t think she could hide it if she was. She’s always been upfront about her disdain for…well, for most things.”
“Agreed,” Rhys adds. “She and Justin have had their rough patches, but they’re in a good place. They were working on getting pregnant. And yeah, she’s too direct for this kind of subterfuge.”
The night air has turned crisp, and we don’t linger much longer. Yet again, I’m not sure what progress has been made, but Mason and Dillon seem satisfied with our answers—at least for now. As I step out of Rooftop 25, back on the sidewalk, I pull my jacket tighter around me.
Steve pulls up to the curb, and I get in. “Let’s go to the house.” Behind me Rhys and Theo leave with their own drivers.
He pulls away without saying anything. The city seems quiet tonight, and I don’t want to go to the loft. I should so I can work out in the morning, but I don’t have the suit I need to wear there. I’ve assumed the face of the company for now. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have a choice.
Reaching my house, one of the iconic Painted Ladies, I pause to appreciate the bridge-to-bridge view. It’s a sight that never gets old, one that always brings a moment of peace. This is the house people associate with me. The loft is my sanctuary, kept separate from the frenetic pace of living in one of the most photographed homes in San Francisco.
Inside, I flip on the lights and head straight for the living room. I turn the television on and plop down on the couch. After a moment, Sports Center plays in the background, a low murmur of scores and highlights that I’m only half-listening to. My mind isn’t on the games, it’s on Crystal, on her frantic eyes and trembling voice when she begged me to tell Justin to come home.
What must she be going through without him? I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. She’s lost, caught in the whirlwind of Justin’s disappearance, and no matter what I think of her, I wouldn’t wish that torment on anyone. But we’re all tangled in this mess—Justin’s vanishing, the company’s troubles, the looming investigations.
We need answers, and soon, or this uncertainty will swallow us whole.