The Hangover: Part III

During the entire drive back into the city all the way from the Sag Harbor, the foursome could not fall asleep. Maybe the usual suspects in the backseat had gotten their second wind from the hour long nap on the drive to Sag Harbor or maybe they were all just wired from having met Billy Joel. The third option was that they were very intent on finding the ring and coming to Doug's rescue.

An hour into their trek toward Manhattan, the sun began to rise. The sky was no longer black or dark blue, the moon was starting to fade from view. Instead the sky was turning a dark shade of purple to pinks and oranges as the rays of sunlight scattered about. Phil looked over his shoulder, the light catching his blue eyes as he watched the traffic following behind them, heading in the same direction. As he turned his attention back to the others, he began to realize something.

All this while they had been more focused on finding Doug that they hadn't truly gone about putting together the pieces of where Sam's sister Amanda had gone off to other that they now knew she left the hotel around seven the previous morning, nearly twenty four hours before. He began to wonder how it was Sam was able to keep her shit together and focus on the guys' need to find their friend; keeping them centered when they started to go ape shit on one another. Her sister was getting married within eight hours' time and she was still AWOL. Billy Joel had posed an interesting scenario of Amanda just taking off because of cold feet, but Sam had debunked it, insisting her sister would never do that.

Phil brought the arm he once again had around Sam's shoulder up so that he could run his fingers into the hair on the back of her head before leaving them there to get her attention in a soothing way. Sam shifted her eyes away from the daybreak scenery passing them by to meet Phil's gaze.

"Hmm?"

"How are you holding up?" he asked, removing his fingers from behind her head to push some strands away from the side of her face.

"Fine," she replied with a shrug and a ghost of a smile.

"Now, come on. We both know that when a woman says she's fine it means something horrible is brewing underneath the surface," he quipped. "On a scale from one to ten, how worried are you about your sister? Honestly."

Sam momentarily knitted her eyebrows together and she frowned. "Eleven."

Phil nodded, understanding. "I figured." He lowered his hand down to give hers a squeeze. "You're pretty good at keeping what you're really thinking and feeling to yourself."

"Years of practice."

"It's been about twenty four hours since she's been missing. Do you wanna call the police when we get back to the hotel and see if she's turned up in any way?"

Stu picked up on the conversation and turned his head toward the pair. His eyes saddened. "Sam, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting your sister's missing, too."

Sam leaned forward to look at Stu beside Phil. "It's okay," she lied, blatantly. "The threat of Doug being murdered is more dire and takes precedence. I just don't know how to explain this to my family if I can't find out where Amanda is in time. My parents will very likely find some way to blame me."

"Maybe we should split up?" Alan suggested from the front seat beside the driver. "Stu and I can look for the ring and you and Phil can go to the police station."

Sam couldn't help it. She smiled. Leaning forward again, she reached a hand over the front seat and touched it down upon Alan's shoulder. "That's really nice of you to offer, Alan, but I can't let the two of you look for the ring by yourselves."

"No," Phil insisted. "Alan's right. It's not fair that we focus only on Doug. I mean, he's our best friend and we're worried about his well being, but at least we have a lead on him. I'll come with you to the police station and we'll file a report or whatever we need to do. Okay?"

Removing her hand from Alan's shoulder, Sam looked up at Phil and smirked. She wasn't going to argue against looking into her sister's whereabouts any further. "Okay," she nodded.



The closest police station to the Plaza Hotel coming from Long Island was the 17th Precinct on East 51st Street. The taxi cab dropped Phil and Sam off in front, with Stu letting the pair know they would keep in touch with their respective searches by way of Phil's cell phone and Alan's cell phone and that no matter what, they would meet up at the entrance of the Empire State Building by eight-thirty, which gave both pairs only two hours.

Phil held the door open for Sam as she walked inside of the station and giving a nod of his head to an officer in uniform heading outside mostly likely to his patrol car. They stepped into the lobby, walking up to a desk where a drunk man was trying to report his bike being stolen to a female officer behind the desk. She was feigning concern, trying to hold a civil tone while telling him they, being the police, would see what they could do to help him. When it was their turn, Phil and Sam leaned on the desk.

"How can I help you?" asked the officer, a voluptuous black woman whose name tag stated her surname to be Brady.

"My sister went missing twenty four hours ago and my family and I can't get a hold of her. She's supposed to get married by two today. She wouldn't just take off and I'm really worried," Sam rambled.

"What's your sister's name?"

"Amanda Simmons. Dr. Amanda Simmons, actually."

"What time did she go missing and where was the last place anyone saw her?"

"About seven yesterday morning, she was seen on a security camera at the Plaza Hotel leaving the lobby."

"Do you have a picture?"

Phil looked at Sam who looked down and then remembered she had no purse, which meant no phone or wallet to offer up a photograph. She shook her head. "No, my purse was stolen last night on the subway. Actually, it was my sister's purse. I think she might've taken mine by mistake before she left the hotel. They look similar."

Officer Brady frowned and sat back in her chair at the desk. "What are your names?"

"Samantha Simmons," Sam replied.

"Phil Wenneck," Phil offered up.

"I'm gonna have a detective come speak to you, okay?" Officer Brady looked between the two of them with a no-nonsense expression on her already stern face. "Just have a seat over there."

"Wha―okay." Sam nodded and looked to Phil as they both glanced over to an area off to the side where there were a few rows of chairs, much like a hospital waiting room.

Phil took her hand in his and they sat down next to each other. "A detective is gonna see us. That's sounds promising, right? Means they're taking our situation seriously."

"Should we mention the thing with Doug?" Sam wondered, looking at him.

He shook his head immediately. "Oh no. Last thing we need is to explain to New York City cops about how I stole an expensive ring and Doug is being held hostage with the threat of death by some unknown bad guy. We can't even identify who has him. The cops will just think we're making shit up."

Sam sank back in her chair, slouching her posture. "This sucks."



"This sucks," Stu complained, tearing the comforter and sheets off the bed in the suite's master bedroom. Alan was on his hands and knees, his body halfway into the closet, combing over every inch of the floor. "We don't even know what the ring looks like."

"Well, let's think like a woman," Alan commented.

Stu looked down at a spot on the sheet he was handling and cringed at whatever he'd seen, letting it fall to the floor at his feet. "Think like a woman?" he repeated with skepticism in his voice.

"If you were a woman, wearing a big ring on your finger and you just got engaged, where would you put it for safe keeping when you take it off?"

Standing in place, Stu stared off for a moment while Alan got to his feet, albeit with some struggle due in part to the problem that was his gut. Slowly, Stu looked around the room for a few moments before an idea set in. His eyes widening, "The wall safe!"

Stu took off like a bat out of hell and headed straight to the study. He didn't know where the wall safe was but he knew every hotel room or suite had one and he figured it would be located in the study in their suite. Fortunately he was right. On the wall opposite from the desk, there was a portrait of some 18th century nobleman that happened to swing open like a door to reveal a wall safe behind it.

"Found it!" Stu called out with a victorious chuckle.

Alan came sauntering in and moved to stand beside Stu. "Well? Open it."

Stu frowned. "I don't know the combination."

Rolling his eyes, Alan pushed Stu out of the way. "Let me, then."

Stu staggered backward and scoffed at Alan. "How do you expect to open a wall safe without a combination? Those things are built for safety. There's not even a knob to twist around. It's all digital."

Without missing a beat, Alan came back with, "I've cracked open plenty of safes before. It's a piece of cake."

Stu made a face like he didn't even want to know how Alan was savvy on cracking open secure safes. He just watched as Alan pulled over the chair in the corner and stood on it to be eye level with the number pad that looked like a simple calculator. Alan just stared at the combination pad as if willing the safe to open on its own. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration as his eyes glazed over. Stu stepped to the side to look at Alan's face, confused and curious.

"I got it," Alan muttered after what felt like forever. He began to press very specific numbers: 9 6 5 8 3 7. Without hesitation, Alan pulled the safe door open with no trouble at all.

"What the hell?" Stu remarked with a laugh. "How did you do that? And how did you know it was those numbers?"

Alan turned around and smiled. "This is your basic 6-digit PIN code safe. And those numbers spell out 'wolves' on the keypad. I just remembered using this last night."

"We put something in there? Was it the ring?" Stu asked, trying to peer around Alan.

Reaching in, Alan grabbed a hold of something and pulled it out. As he turned to Stu, he shook his head but was smiling. "No ring, but hey...now I know my mixed CDs are okay."

In Alan's hands were about six clear jewel cases with gold CDs, scribbled on with a black Sharpie. Stu's impressed expression faded to that of disdain.

"You're such a dumbass, Alan."



"Samantha Simmons, Phil Wenneck?"

Sam and Phil's heads snapped up toward the direction of a voice calling their names. A man in dress navy dress slacks, gray dress shirt, navy blazer and tacky neck tie stood a few feet away, scanning the heads of the people waiting around the lobby for police assistance. The pair stood up and stepped over to the man.

"That's us," Phil informed, gesturing between himself and her. "I'm Phil Wenneck, she's Samantha Simmons."

"I'm Detective Contello, come with me."

Sam looked warily up at Phil who gave her a more reassuring gaze. He nodded for them to follow the detective through to several corridors before coming upon what looked to be a squad room. Detective Contello stepped around to a table at the front of the room and sat down at a chair on one side of it while gesturing to the two seats on the other side.

"Have a seat." Phil and Sam obliged, watching as Detective Contello looked over a form in his hands. "So, it says here your sister went missing yesterday morning at seven, correct?" he asked, looking to Sam. She nodded and he continued. "What hotel was it she left?"

"The Plaza," Sam answered.

"Did she seem upset when she left? Was she showing any signs of odd behavior? Officer Brady wrote down that you said she's getting married today. Do you think she might've just took off because she was having second thoughts?"

Sam shook her head adamantly. "My sister and I have never been particularly close but I know she's been looking forward to her wedding day for years. She was gushing about how happy she was at the rehearsal dinner on Friday."

"We don't know how she was when she left," Phil added. "We partied pretty hard the night before and were asleep by the time she'd left."

"I understand you and your sister mixed up your purses, therefore your IDs, too, I assume?"

Sam nodded. "Our purses are similar. I think Amanda took mine by mistake. I had hers with me until last night when it got stolen on the subway. It had her information, cell phone, everything. She couldn't call me on her phone now if she wanted with my phone even if she has it. My mom can't either which I guess is a blessing. I don't need to hear my mom rake me over the coals about how Amanda's missing on her wedding day."

Detective Contello simply smirked. "Can you tell me what she looks like, what she was wearing the last time you saw her? We'll put out an APB for her, and check our systems to see if she's been picked up for anything. If she has your ID with her and a cop asked her for identification and didn't have hers but someone else's, she might've been brought in on suspicion of theft. She could be in a holding cell in one of our precincts."

It wasn't an ideal situation but it was better than Amanda being missing. This way she would be safe somewhere and easily rescued, for a lack of a better word.

"She looks a bit like me, obviously. Sisters and all," Sam began. "But she's blonde. Natural blonde, not bottle. Um, green eyes, some freckles like me, but not as many as me. She's about five foot four, thin...she's twenty-seven years old..."

"What was she wearing?" Detective Contello asked again.

"My dress, actually. We got pretty drunk and at some point also switched outfits. This is her dress," Sam picked at the tight pink dress she was still wearing. "She'd be wearing my dress. It's royal blue, knee-length, thick straps."

"Does your sister have any distinctive scars or tattoos?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't think she has any tattoos, but she does have a scar on her abdomen from getting her appendix out when she was fourteen." She frowned deeply. She knew what it was meant by asking for scars or tattoos. It was to help identify a body if the person was deceased and without any ID on them.

Detective Contello was writing all this information down. When he finished, he looked up at Sam and clicked his pen closed. "Alright, I think I got every thing I can use. I'll go put her name out there and see if I get any hits, by our system or by any of the officers on the streets. Is there a number I can reach you by?"

Phil nodded and rattled off his area code and phone number to the detective who raised one of his eyebrows. "What area code is that?"

"310? It's Los Angeles."

"Ah, so you're out-of-towners."

"Well, I am," Phil answered. "She is too, to an extent."

"I'm from Long Island, originally. Moved to California for college many moons ago," Sam added.

Detective Contello smiled and stood up. The pair did the same. "Okay, well, I'll do what I can to help find your sister. In the meantime, go back to your hotel room and get some rest. You both look like shit."

"Feel like it, too," Phil smirked.

"You two remember the way you came in here? Can you find your way out?"

Both nodded and parted ways with the detective. Phil once more slipped his hand into Sam's hand and walked with her from corridor to corridor until they were in the lobby once more. As they exited out onto the street, they stopped dead on a sidewalk and looked both ways, completely lost at the moment. Not physically, just emotionally and mentally. Phil took his free hand and ran it down his face and then back up to run his fingers through his hair. He blinked a few times to wake himself up a bit more as Sam seemed to be doing the same.

"How about we grab some coffee?" Phil asked. "Then we should just make our way toward the Empire State Building. By the time we would get back to the hotel, Stu and Alan would probably have already left."

"Okay."

Phil and Sam turned right, heading in the direction of 5th Avenue to find the nearest Starbucks.



"We are so royally fucked."

Alan looked at Stu who he was sitting beside in the backseat of a cab en route to the Empire State Building. "Maybe we can just buy another ring for the bad man who has Doug."

Stu stared wild-eyed at Alan, his jaw clenched. "Maybe you should just shut up, hmm?"

Alan frowned. "Well, you don't have to be mean. It was just a suggestion. And I'd like to remind you this time the blackout wasn't my fault so stop taking it out on me like it was."

"I'm not blaming you for the blackout. I know now it was Phil who's responsible." Stu leaned back, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "You're just really annoying most of the time."

"As long as you understand I'm not responsible for the blackout," Alan repeated, somehow satisfied with Stu's response.

Stu simply turned his head and looked back at the other man, completely dumbfounded at how odd he was and how he could be so calm and collected at a time like this, when there were more dire things at hand. "How are you not freaking out like I am?"

Alan shrugged. "Crazy moments don't bother me," he answered. "It's the boring ones that make me nervous."

Considering this, Stu could actually see how that would make sense. Some people thrived for chaos and downtime made them jittery. He had an uncle once who could never sit still during formal moments...like his cousin's wedding ceremony ten years earlier where he shifted around in his pew and tried to carry on conversations during he vows. When it came time for the reception, he sat back and watched the world go by, becoming a spectator.

Within five more minutes, the taxi cab pulled up in front of the Empire State Building and Stu leaned forward, peering out his window. He saw Phil and Sam standing outside the entrance with Starbucks coffees in their hand. Phil had his sunglasses over his eyes and Sam had a matching pair of Aviators over hers that were a darker shade lens than Phil's. Alan paid for fare and tip as they slid out of the backseat and greeted the other pair.

"Any luck finding your sister?" Stu asked immediately, looking to Sam.

She shrugged but also shook her head. "We got to speak to a detective who was gonna put an APB out and look through their files or database or whatever it is to see if maybe she was picked up at all. There's a small chance she could be sitting in a cell somewhere as a Jane Doe." Sam gave a second shrug. "Here's hoping." She took a sip of her coffee.

"Any luck finding the ring?" Phil asked, gesturing to Stu with his coffee.

Stu shook his head. "No. We looked everywhere we possibly could. Alan even took apart the drains in the kitchen and the bathrooms."

"It's true. I did do that," Alan confirmed without anyone caring.

"We checked the wall safe in the study but only Alan's mixed CDs were in there," Stu continued.

Alan piped up again. "They're fine, by the way."

Sam and Phil glanced over at him through their sunglasses and then back to Stu, who was shrugging. "Maybe you lost it before we got back to the hotel yesterday morning? Maybe when Crazy Carl attacked Alan with the broken bottle?"

Sam shook her head. "No, because that doctor said Phil and I were showing it off at the hospital when Alan was getting stitched up."

"Okay, well, then after that when we were doing whatever it was we did after the hospital."

Phil tilted his head back and let out a groan. It was his turn to start to freak out a little. "Wow, we are so screwed. What are we gonna do, man? We can't go up to the top of this building without that ring? What if whoever has Doug won't give him back?"

"What if he really gets killed?" Stu added to the somber mood. "Tracy is gonna kill us."

"After she castrates us," Phil muttered, taking a sip of coffee. They all stood there for a few moments, watching the people milling about around them on the sidewalk. "Well," he finally spoke again, after calming himself down with the help of his hot caffeinated beverage. "We should go buy tickets to get up there," he gestured upward with his coffee.

"We should buy the express passes. It's double the price as a regular ticket but it will allow us to skip the lines and we can go straight up to the top without waiting," Sam informed as Phil opened the door to head into the building.

"Sounds good to me," Phil commented.

"How do we explain that we don't have the ring and for Doug to not be killed?" Stu questioned.

"Lie? Say we never took any ring and they have us mistaken for someone else?" Phil shrugged. He had no answers.

"They knew where we were staying," Sam said. "How come they just didn't come to us?"

"Good point," Stu nodded.

"It doesn't matter now. We just gotta buy some time by bullshitting our way through this next ordeal." Phil led the way, with Alan tapping Sam on the shoulder as they all followed.

She turned and looked at him, pushing the sunglasses up off her face to sit on top of her head like a headband. "Yeah?"

"Nice sunglasses. Where'd you get them?"

"Vendor on the side of the street."

Alan smirked. "They're just like Phil's. Now you both have something else you've shared."

"What else have Phil and I shared?"

"Bodily fluids," Alan replied nonchalantly, resulting in both Phil and Stu turning around to stare at him with scowls, while Sam's mouth just dropped open slightly.

"Alan," Stu spoke in a chastising voice.

"Well, he's not lying," Sam shrugged. Her green eyes met Phil's blue ones and they shared a smirk. She brought her coffee to her lips to mask it though and the foursome continued on to buy their express passes.