Never Look Back Read Online Free PDF Page A

starving."
    He pushed the rolls toward her and watched as she munched away.
    "Please, you seem like a nice guy who got dragged to do this dirty job. Can you at least tell me what I'm doing here? Or what you want from me?"
    He removed his watch and washed his hands on the sink.
    Dana munched her sixth avocado roll then stopped. Just as a model could control what she ate, she knew better than to eat more. She set the food aside.
    "You should try the noodles."
    She smiled. "I'll save it for tomorrow."
    ***
    Rob gritted his teeth at the police station. Two hours had passed and nobody seemed to be giving importance to him. Phones rang off the hook, and the police officer he was talking to kept glancing from left to right as prostitutes walked in.
    "For the third time, I'm telling you my friend doesn't just ran off like that. It's been three days since she left her apartment, and I would like to file for a missing report."
    The police officer jotted notes. "Doesn't she have any family? It's the holidays, you know."
    "Didn't you hear what I told you earlier? Her father just died." Rob paused then grabbed his jacket disgusted by the lack of competence. "You know what, forget it. You're not being very helpful." Rob stormed out of the office.
    Back on the street, Rob stopped to buy a cigarette. He lit one and closed his eyes. So what if he had quit a couple of months ago. He needed one now. None of Dana's friends knew where she was. This was very unlike Dana to walk away when projects were lined up for her. A cold shiver ran through his spine as he recalled what Dana had said to him about her mother.
    Tossing his cigarette, Rob flagged down a cab and climbed in. "East Seventy-Third Street."
    The Indian cab driver drove away.
    Rob gazed at the traffic jam from his window. "Is there any way you can go faster?"
    The driver grinned. "What's the matter with you people? Always in a hurry."
    Rob sighed. He needed to get back to Dana's apartment. If the police were not going to help, he needed to find her himself.
    Half a hour later, the cab dropped him off the curb and Rob handed him folded bills. "Keep the change."
    The grin on the driver's face morphed into a huge smile.
    Rob dashed inside the building. The same doorman greeted him. "Listen, I need your help."
    The doorman nodded. "What can I do for you?"
    Rob caught his breath. "When was the last time you saw Dana?"
    The doorman looked above the ceiling. "Hmm, it must have been that day I told her about the fruitcake. Like three days ago."
    "That's it. She took off and hasn't come back."
    "Do you think she's with a friend or out of town?"
    Rob shook his head. "Did anyone aside from me come looking for her?"
    The doorman pulled out the logbook. "Let me check." He flipped the pages. "Oh, yes, there was somebody by the name of John Goodwin who came to see her that morning. Never seen him before."
    "Goodwin? Doesn't ring a bell."
    "Is everything all right? You don't suppose Ms. Simmons—"
    "I don't know. You guys have cameras, right? Do you think I can look at the tapes?"
    The doorman straightened his shoulders. "Mister…" He cleared his throat.
    "Hanson."
    "Mr. Hanson, I don't know what your business is with Ms. Simmons, but I won't be able to assist you. May I suggest you speak to my manager?" He's not here now but here's his business card.
    "Thank you."
    "You're welcome."
    Rob exited the building and took the longer route back to his apartment to give him time to collect his thoughts.
    Once he reached home, Rob heated the teapot and plopped himself on the couch.  His loft He opened his laptop and browsed photos he had taken of Dana before she left for Alaska. Her smile made his heart leap. Oh how he missed her. Dana was his favorite model. So down-to-earth and funny and easy going…
    Rob poured the hot water into his mug, added a tea bag, then stirred. Where could she be? He smelled traces of cinnamon and remembered the fruitcake on the table. "Shit."
    Jotting down the address from the