Is it 4 ?

"Excuse me madam"
She raised her head, her lap full of pieces of tassar, maroon and beige. Two men, very formal in their gesture, but in casualwears, mid forties.
"Yes..."
"We need to talk to you for a minute"
"What is going on?" her boss interrupted from behind.
"We need to ask her a few questions", the man in the white shirt pulled out his identity card as he approached. Silence hovered the room. For a few seconds there was no sound other than the hum of the A.C.
"Okay, sure. Let me know when done", said the boss as she prepared to leave the room.

The two men and the girl in the room.
She switched off her computer as they seated themseleves. There was anxiety, a bit of irritation and a lot of questions on her face, but she was at the answering end.
"Is this your number?" the other guy handed over a slip of paper. Yes, it was her number. She could barely nod, but the man got his answer. She tried to return the slip to the man, but he didn't take it.
"Please turn it", he said, his eyes still fixed on her, "do you know that other number?"
She turned the slip. Yes, she knew the other number as well. She probably knew it even more than she did her own number. Hundreds of calls, hundreds of messages, how could she not know this number. A smile lit her face which immediately turned into panic with apprehensions uncountable.
"What happened?" she coudnt ask anything more.
"We found your number in the cell phone that has the second number. There were 17 messages sent to you and 14 received from you yesterday, on this phone"
She was getting imaptient, she was barely interested in the statistics.
"And?" she tried to control herself.
"The last message sent to you was at 4:32 a.m. today" , now spoke the man in white shirt.
"Yes, i read it this morning, but after that he hasnt taken my calls, neither has he replied to my messages", she was next to yelling. "What the fuck is going on?" she freaked out.
"Ma'm relax. Even we have the same question"
"What do you mean??"
"What time is it?"
"Is it 4?" she asked back.
"What time is it?" he asked again.
She picked up her cell phone, she didnt wear a watch. Her wrists were too beautiful to be cluttered with pieces of metal and leather.
"It is 4", she murmured, "4:05"
"Not even twelve hours, no big deal, unless his roommates had found this sticking on the collage in his room" he handed over another slip. It was a small 3-line goodwill note and a chequered pattern below it with a few letters jumbled up in boxes. She knew those letters.
"Are you familiar with those letters?" he asked, his questions were growing firmer.
There were two 'K's, two 'A's and an 'S'. She knew those letters exactly.
"Yes, it's my name"
"Excuse me??" now it was his turn to be surprised.
"I mean, nickname. Only he calls me by this name"
The two men looked at each other as she slid her fingers on that chequer again and again.
"Ma'm..." he interrupted, because it was clear she was lost in those five letters. But before he could speak, she asked, "Would you please tell me what is going on?"
The goodwill note had given her a clear idea what was going on. Her voice sunk, she was barely breathing.
The reply came, "He is missing".