Diagnosis_ danger - By Marie Ferrarella & Jenna Mills Page 0,3

as if Clancy was standing at her elbow. “And when I find you standing there, smirking, you’re going to see just how much of an emergency you have on your hands. Please be there, smirking,” she added, turning the key.

When she opened the door, there was no one there. Her heart sank down into the pit of her stomach.

It took less than thirty seconds to scan the living room. The same amount for the bedroom, and the bathroom door was standing open, allowing her to see in. Clancy wasn’t anywhere. This wasn’t like him. He never forgot an appointment. Not even once.

The uneasiness that had been moving through her was now racing in her veins.

Something was very wrong.

Now that she thought about it, he’d told her how much he wanted to see this particular artist, saying that he could relate to the man’s angst. He wouldn’t be wasting time like this, he’d want to get to the art gallery.

Taking out her cell phone, Natalya quickly pressed the number to Clancy’s phone. The second she finished, she heard a busy signal pulsating against her ear. It had that peculiar rhythm that phones had when they weren’t properly disconnected.

Had he left his phone on?

Or had it been taken away from him before he could properly end his call? It was no secret that Clancy could annoy people. Had someone decided to take out their annoyance on Clancy?

“Take it easy, Nat,” she told herself. “He’s probably still at work.” She knew that his boss, Walter Tolliver, didn’t allow his employees to have cell phones on while on the premises.

That made more sense, she thought. She’d just been overreacting. It had been years since someone had decided to attempt to rearrange Clancy’s face because of something he’d said.

Pausing a second to remember the number of the mortuary’s landline, she pressed the corresponding buttons on her keypad.

He was probably still there, she reassured herself again. More than likely, Tolliver was having him work overtime. The newly appointed funeral parlor director clearly didn’t like Clancy. He made things as difficult as possible for her friend, undoubtedly hoping that if things were uncomfortable enough, he’d quit. What the man hadn’t reckoned on was Clancy’s stubbornness.

“Ellis Brothers Mortuary,” a deep, resonant and cultured voice announced. She wasn’t expecting to hear Tolliver’s voice. “How may I assist you in your time of grief?”

Natalya’d met the man once and had taken an instant dislike to him. But then, her viewpoint might have been slightly tainted, she mused with a half smile. She’d always felt like Clancy’s big sister instead of just his friend.

“Mr. Tolliver, this is Dr. Natalya Pulaski. May I speak to Clancy?”

“I’m sorry, he’s not here.” She could almost visualize the man stiffening as he frowned. “He left for the evening.”

Ordinarily, that would be what she’d thought. But since she was standing in the middle of Clancy’s apartment and he wasn’t there, she had no choice but to assume he was still being kept at work. There weren’t that many places that Clancy frequented. Outside of her apartment and her parents’ house, there was a restaurant he liked to go to with her. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Tolliver’s tone told her that the man was offended at having his answer questioned.

Right now, she didn’t care about Tolliver’s feelings. She wanted to find Clancy. “Would you happen to know what time he left?”

“He clocked out at five,” Tolliver informed her crisply. “Why?” he wanted to know, though his manner was impersonal. “Is there a problem?”

Yes, there’s a problem, Natalya thought. Clancy’s disappeared.

She frowned, going over the little pieces of information that she knew. If Clancy left the mortuary at five, there was no reason why he wouldn’t be home right now. And yet, he wasn’t.

So where was he? she wondered. And why had he sounded so odd when he’d called? Why hadn’t he said anything more?

Because she knew that Tolliver was waiting for a response she said, “Clancy was supposed to meet me for a gallery opening tonight.”

“I’m afraid your friend feels that mundane things such as time do not apply to him,” Tolliver told her. She heard him give a dismissive snort. “He’ll turn up. If he doesn’t,” he added with an air of superiority that she found extremely offensive, “I’d consider myself lucky.”

Hot words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. “Well, you’re not me, Mr. Tolliver. And I’d say that was fortunate for both of us.” Natalya didn’t bother saying goodbye when