Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JAY
Jay tried Claire’s cell once more, clenching his jaw in frustration when it rolled to voicemail again. He’d called the suite several times too, but she never answered. What is going on? Why isn’t she answering?
He had less than five minutes to reach the Empire State Building, and he wanted to arrive before Claire.
They’d agreed to meet at the top. Between the rain and the Friday-night crowds, he prayed he’d make it on time.
He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing against the small box inside.
He’d spent the entire afternoon working through his game plan but still couldn’t decide.
Should he propose at the top of the famous landmark?
After the Nancy Chen concert? Once they returned to London?
He didn’t know when the right moment would come, but he prayed it would happen sooner rather than later.
The memory of the night he proposed to Hope still gnawed at him.
He’d done everything he could to make the night unforgettable.
For months, he’d teased her about surprising her with the biggest diamond he could find.
Then, when she removed the black silk blindfold and discovered they stood alone in the middle of Dodger Stadium, she seemed less than impressed.
She barely spoke as they shared a bottle of champagne behind home plate. And when he pulled the tiny velvet box from his jacket pocket, she offered only a small nod.
“I thought you might be leading up to this,” she’d said.
He slipped the ring onto her finger and discovered it didn’t fit. She made some sort of quip, and they laughed about it at the time. Looking back now, he recognized the absence of genuine emotion in her eyes.
So why had he tried so hard to make it work?
They’d been happy dating, hadn’t they? Living together felt easy enough.
Marriage seemed like the next logical step, the natural progression of their relationship.
Now reality stared back at him. He saw clearly how he had spent years of both their lives trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.
Physically, he and Hope looked perfect together. Professionally, they respected independence and ambition. Both valued academia and carried their intelligence with ease. And yet a detachment always lingered between them. He'd never been able to put his finger on it.
Not until now.
Not until Claire.
He and Claire thrived because of each other, not in spite of, as it had been with Hope. A certain degree of competition had existed between Jay and his late wife. Their worlds had stayed so separate that the few hours they shared weren't enough to bring them together.
His cell phone rang with an unknown number, jarring him back to reality.
"Claire?” he answered.
"No sir, it's Twigg."
"Oh, Twigg." Jay sighed. "Thanks for calling me back."
"My sincerest apologies for missing your call."
"Listen, I'm running late for an appointment. Have you seen Ms. Jordan?"
"No, sir. In fact, your suite's been quiet all day."
"She hasn't been back there since she left this morning?" Jay asked.
"Not to my knowledge. Maid service tidied up around ten. I delivered fresh flowers per your instructions at noon, then restocked the bar and mini fridge just before five. From what I can tell, Mr. Avery, she's never returned."
Jay sighed. "I guess she didn't make her deadline after all."
"Would you like me to contact you if she returns?" Twigg asked.
"The minute you see her."
He returned the phone to his pocket and silently reassured himself that Claire was fine—just held up at Avi, putting the finishing touches on her long-distance project. That was the main reason she’d come to New York, wasn’t it? She had real work to do.
Jay exited the cab with umbrella in hand and jogged to the main door of the Empire State Building.
A soggy crowd shuffled around the lobby.
It would be a few minutes to get through security and ticketing.
He scanned the people around him, wondering whether the crowd had more to do with escaping the rain than with the view from the eighty-sixth floor.
By the time he stepped onto the observation deck, he was forty-five minutes late.
Raincoats and umbrellas cut through his view as he moved with deliberate steps through the throng of visitors.
Twice he spotted women with similar hairstyles.
Twice he felt the sharp disappointment of realizing neither was Claire.
After a few minutes of searching, he told himself she must be running late too—likely caught in the same chaos he’d just fought through in the lobby.
He tried her cell again and exhaled sharply when voicemail picked up for the third time.
He found a spot near the elevators, leaned against the wall, and waited.
His eyes fell closed for a moment as a memory came into focus.
"Just imagine all the free swag you'd have right now if you hadn't left me high and dry at the piano bar."
"And here we go…” She shook her head with a grin.
"You disappeared without a trace. One minute we're ordering coffee and the next minute you’re gone. Was it something I said? Something I didn't say?"
"Sir, are you okay?" an elderly attendant asked.
Jay opened his eyes, looking slightly dazed. "Yes, I'm fine."
Jay stepped back outside and found the rain had eased.
Couples stood hand in hand, taking in the sweeping view.
The streets below glowed as the rain-soaked pavement reflected the city lights like glass.
Fighting the pull of defeat, he turned and headed back toward the elevators.
Nancy Chen would take the stage in less than an hour.
He would need to catch a cab soon to make it on time.
He forced his mind away from the place it kept trying to drift—somewhere he couldn’t afford to go.
There's a perfectly good excuse. Her phone died. She got held up at Avi. She's stuck in traffic. Everything’s fine. Nothing bad has happened.
At the elevator, the elderly man spoke to him again. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for why she didn't show. Believe me, you're not the first to wait on that wall."
Jay couldn't help but smile, amused by the attendant’s candor and Irish accent.
“Is that so?” he asked.
The man nodded. "I guarantee you'll both be laughing about this tomorrow. You just hold on to that ring. We'll be here when you're ready."
The corners of Jay’s mouth turned up. "What makes you think tonight had anything to do with a ring?"
"When you've done this job for as long as I have, you learn a thing or two. Learn to read the signs and the body language. We average about two hundred proposals every year, you know."
"Just how long have you run this elevator?" Jay asked.
"Twenty-nine years this November," the old man said proudly. "Proposed to my sweetheart right up there where you were standing. She said yes…and I know yours will, too."
"What makes you so sure?" he asked, just as the elevator doors opened.
"Because you look like the type of man who will fight tooth and nail for her," the man said, tipping his hat.
Jay chose to walk the half mile back to the hotel.
The drizzle had now downgraded itself to a fine mist and he closed his umbrella, hoping the night air might help clear his head.
With his cell phone in hand, he called the suite once more.
No answer. He tried the main desk, but no one had seen Claire enter or exit the hotel since that morning.
He tried the contact number she'd given him for Avi but was greeted by a machine.
There was only one other person to call, but he hated to worry her father. I guess I could call Molly and Hamish.
Halfway back to the hotel, he confronted the one feeling that he'd refused to let himself explore: She didn't show up because she's changed her mind.
I pushed her too hard and too fast and it was too much.
The lunches. The gift bags. Showing up here ahead of schedule.
The diamond necklace. The constant string of phone calls.
Damn it! What the hell have I done?
He stepped into the lobby and headed for the main desk. Still no word from Claire. He questioned each employee he encountered, but got the same response with each inquiry. No one had seen her. He took the elevator up to their suite, bumping into Twigg as he stepped out into the hall.
"Good evening, Mr. Avery,” Twigg said.
"I still haven't heard from Ms. Jordan. Is she here?"
"No sir, I don't believe so. Unless perhaps she slipped in unnoticed. Is there anything I can do?"
Jay fished in his wallet for the key. "No, I don't think so but thank you."
Twigg nodded before continuing down the hall.
Jay swiped his card at the door and entered the suite.
The rooms were quiet and dark. He checked for signs of her recent presence but found none.
The bed had been neatly turned down, without so much as a wrinkle.
Her clothes hung beside his in the closet, and her toiletries lay scattered on the large marble vanity in the bathroom.
Back in the living area, he spied her camera bag and a collection of photos she'd been studying on one of the sofas.
Seeing her things around the suite should have given him comfort.
Instead, they had the opposite effect. Maybe I should call Harry.
Maybe he's talked to her tonight. He stalked about the room, tunneling his fingers through his hair.
She's out there, somewhere. Why won't she call?
Images of police officers arriving in the middle of the night crawled over his brain like a million tiny ants, stinging and silencing all rational thought.
Please, God, don't let anything bad happen to her.
His cell buzzed inside his pocket, and he prayed to find her name on the display. When he didn't, he took the call with a sigh of defeat.
"Hey," Jay answered quietly.
"Well?" Rob asked.
"She never showed up."
"Maybe she's back at the hotel."
"I'm back at the hotel. She's not here." He exhaled. "And from the look of it, it doesn't look like she's been here all day."
"What do you think is going on?" Rob asked. "I mean, I don't know her, but from what you've told me, this doesn't sound like her."
Jay fell back on the sofa. "It's not like her at all.”
“She did leave you high and dry at the bar in Negril though.”
“Yeah, but we’ve laughed about that repeatedly.”
"You didn't have words or a disagreement of any kind?" Rob asked.
"None. The last time we spoke was right before lunch. I called for a status report. We were laughing and joking like we always do."
"Maybe she ran into an old friend and lost track of time."
"Enough to miss the whole concert? No way,” Jay said. “She would have let me know."
"Do you think she's still at work?" Rob asked.
"I called the number she gave me. Multiple times. It’s just a recording."
"Couldn't you call someone else? There's gotta be another number."
"The only other person I can think to call is her father. I hate to call him this late."
"Yeah, you don’t want to scare the old man,” Rob said.
"I’m the one who's scared, Rob. Not just that she's missing but that I may be to blame."
"How could you possibly blame yourself? She may be stuck in some elevator for all we know. It's New York City. Shit happens."
"If that were the case then she'd have called. There are phones everywhere. Surely she could've found one to call me."
"Has she ever given you any indication that she might be having second thoughts? About your relationship?"
"No, but maybe I'm just not seeing it.” Jay paused. “Maybe it’s too much, too soon. I’m pushing things too fast."
"What was her reaction when you showed up early at the hotel?"
"She seemed really happy."
"And when you gave her the thing… you know, the key thing?"
"The necklace?" Jay asked.
"Yeah."
"She fell in love with it. First thing she put on this morning."
"Have you thought about calling the police?" Rob asked, changing the direction of the conversation.
"It's only been a few hours. I doubt there's anything they'd do at this point."
"Might not hurt to call. The sooner she's in the system, the closer you'll be to finding her."
"I’d hate for her to walk through the door to find that I'd called the police just because she got tied up somewhere. I mean, she's a savvy woman who's traveled the world for years without my help. She doesn't need me keeping tabs on her, you know."
"Worrying about someone you love is not the same as keeping tabs, Jay. You keep tabs when there's no trust. And you trust her, don't you? And love her enough to want to spend the rest of your life with her, right?"
"Yes."
"And the fact that she didn't show is completely out of character for her, as far as you know?"
"Yes, Rob," Jay answered, his tone laced with fear and frustration.
"Then if I were you, I'd make the call because it just doesn't add up."
Jay agreed. He hung up and placed his phone on the coffee table.
He sat still for several moments, head in his hands, trying to mentally reconstruct Claire's day.
His gaze cruised the perimeter of the room in search of additional clues.
Everything appeared to be in order, just as he'd left it. Just as she’d left it.
He picked up his phone and dialed 911 with a shaking hand.
An operator answered, asking for his name, location, and the nature of his emergency.
He opened his mouth to respond—to give Claire’s description, to explain what he feared—but stopped when he heard the sound of a key card. The door began to open.
"She's here now, ma’am,” Jay said. “Everything is fine."
He practically ran to the door. When their eyes met, his heart dropped into his gut.
A wet, wrinkled coat draped her frame and strands of wet hair stuck to her face.
She looked up at him, her expression filled with confusion.
Relief crashed through him. He didn’t speak but pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against the cold that still clung to her skin.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No,” she whispered. “But don’t let go, okay?”
He held her tightly, running his fingers through her damp hair. "I promise I won’t."
As desperately as he wanted every detail of her delay, he held his tongue. She needed warmth and reassurance, not an onslaught of questions.
"Jay, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know,” she sobbed.
He let her cry for a minute, whispering words of reassurance. When he finally pulled back, he wiped tears from her cheeks.
"Didn't know what?" he asked, he searched her eyes.
“I can’t even say it out loud," she said, bottom lip quivering.