View to a Crime

by Winnie Reed

The newspaper office. Now why hadn’t I thought about that before? If she hadn’t been to work for the rest of the week, and I was guessing she hadn’t or else why was somebody else accessing her work email, somebody there was bound to wonder why. Even if they hadn’t reported it in the paper or on TV, somebody around there had to know something. They might be able to give me a hint.

  I looked up the address on my phone and was on my way in no time. GPS pointed me to a tall, stone building only a few minutes’ walk from the beach and a short drive from the outlet-choked downtown area. I pulled into a small lot off to one side, surrounded by chain link.

  And I rolled past a familiar car before parking two spots down.

  What was he doing here? I hadn’t looked closely enough to see whether or not Pete was inside, but it was his car. I’d just been in it less than twenty-four hours earlier.

  My palms went slick. He was the last person I wanted to see. Not because I didn’t like him anymore. Seeing him face-to-face and having to apologize for being a complete brat wasn’t something I was looking forward to. I wasn’t even mad at him anymore—seeing his car, knowing he was here, washed away what was left of any anger in the blink of an eye.

  I couldn’t sit in the car forever, that much was for sure. I got out, tried to pretend like I wasn’t looking for him… and failed. He was standing next to his Corolla by then, leaning against it with his arms folded. Waiting for me.

  It was lucky he even wanted to see me. That was what I told myself, what convinced me to drag my sorry behind over to him. His expression was unreadable thanks to a pair of aviators covering his eyes. I couldn’t tell how my approach was received. No going back now.

  “Hey, stranger.” I tipped my head to the side. “No, that doesn’t work. I only saw you last night. But it seemed to fit the moment.”

  “It does, even if it’s not factual.” Pete raised his sunglasses until they perched on top of his head. There was a softness to his gaze which I didn’t know what to think about. Was he sorry for what happened?

  I decided to swallow my pride, even if it felt big enough to choke me. “I’m sorry for last night. I went to you for help, then had the nerve to get mad at you when you offered it.”

  “I was a little pushy, though. I can admit it. It’s just…” He looked away from me, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know. When I see somebody I care about looking and sounding the way you did, I can’t sit back and let nature take its course. I have to try to do something. If that comes off as being pushy or like I don’t trust you to make your own decisions, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to do.”

  “I know. And I wasn’t mad at you, not really. The fight wasn’t about the fight, if that makes any sense. It was about always feeling like somebody thinks they know better than I do. When you stood over me like that, I might as well have been ten years old and on the verge of getting grounded. That’s what I was upset about. Not you.”

  “I get it.” He offered a brief smile.

  “So why are you here? Have you been following me around?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “No. I went back through some of Jane’s more recent articles and figured I’d have a look around, maybe ask questions of the last few people she interviewed.”

  “You’re kidding me. You did the same thing I did.”

  “Well, great minds supposedly think alike, don’t they?” He looked toward the newspaper office again. “I thought I’d start here, ask whether she’s been around. I’d pretend to be a friend or something like that.”

  I looked over my shoulder, eyeing the building. “We’ll go together. You can listen, observe, while I ask questions. I’ve read hundreds of mysteries and thrillers, but I don’t have the real-world experience you have when it comes to questioning people.”

  “Good point. And people tend to be more relaxed when it’s a woman asking the questions.”

  “Is that true?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Psychology. It makes sense, I guess.”

  On impulse, I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He smelled as good as I remembered, though it had been less than a day since the last time we were this close and it only made sense that he’d smell the same. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” He was wearing his shy smile by the time I stepped back, though his expression hardened a little before we set off for the large, glass doors leading inside the offices of the News. “Let’s see what we can find about Jane Brooks.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The lobby of the building brought to mind so many old-timey movies, probably because the art deco interior hadn’t changed a bit. I was glad of that, just as the preservation of so many historical buildings in Cape Hope did my heart good. Just another example of my old soul—at least, that was how Mom always used to describe me.

  Pete seemed less interested in the lobby itself than the people in it. He nodded toward the reception desk and we started in that direction. It was a monstrosity, more like a three-sided box covered in intricate plasterwork that supported a marble countertop. Behind it was the actual desk and the smiling middle-aged woman sitting at it. “How can I help you?”

  My mouth opened.

  Nothing came out.

  Shoot. We should’ve put a concrete story together before coming in.

  Pete took my arm. “My girlfriend here is friends with Jane Brooks, one of the reporters working for your paper. Jane’s been MIA the past few days and we’ve been concerned about her. We thought maybe we could find her at work.” His hand tightened ever so slightly, and I didn’t know if he was trying to tell me he had it under control or if he wanted me to hold my tongue and let him handle things.

  He did seem to be better at this than I was, so I chose to nod and left it at that. I could play the overwrought, concerned friend, too choked up to know what to say.

  The woman—Krystal, according to her nametag—winced a little before she could stop herself. “Jane’s MIA across the board. She hasn’t shown her face here since Tuesday. This is the third day in a row she’s been a no-call, no-show.” She inclined her head toward the switchboard-style phone sitting on her desk. “I’ve been trying her every few hours, but I don’t get an answer.”

  “Did somebody ask you to check up on her? Somebody here at the paper, I mean?”

  She nodded. “Her editor, Pierce McGraw. I guess his assistant’s too busy or something, but I don’t mind. Most people dial direct numbers anymore, I suppose. My switchboard doesn’t ring much.” She sounded sad about it, like she took this personally.

  “Is he upset with her?” I chewed my lip like a concerned friend would. “I’d hate to see her lose her job.”

  “I mean, we have a policy here.” She lifted a shoulder, turning toward me. “If you don’t show up and aren’t scheduled at an off-site assignment three days in a row and there’s no phone call or email explaining the situation, that’s it. As far as I know, this isn’t like her, but then I only see her when she comes in and when she leaves—if she leaves at five, that is, which she rarely does. Always staying late.”

  “Because she’s a dedicated employee. You’d think they’d give her a little more leeway, knowing that.” I was on the verge of becoming downright incensed. Only Pete’s slowly tightening grip on my arm kept me from falling over the edge into straight-up righteous anger.

  “Rules are rules.” She shrugged, the jumped a little when her phone rang. I was almost happy for her.

  We turned away from the desk. “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of concern over her.” Pete’s jaw tightened. “You’d think a situation like this would raise a red flag. I know I’d be curious over an employee’s disappearance, and not just because they hadn’t called or given me an explanation.”

  “I keep going back to a comment she made just before we were interrupted. She could set her desk on fire and nobody would notice.” I eyed a pair of men coming out from one of the elevators at the far end of the lobby. From the sounds of it, they were discussing local
sports. I didn’t have to watch the teams to know what sports talk sounded like.

  The world kept turning, even while a girl was missing. I couldn’t make it add up in my head.

  “If our attacker had to pick anybody to go after, she was the one. The girl nobody would care much about if she never showed up again.” When I winced at Pete’s assessment, he grimaced. “Sorry. That came off a lot more callous than I meant it.”

  “I understand—remember, I heard a lot of that sort of talk growing up.” Only then, the people Dad had spoken of were nothing more than faceless names. I hadn’t known them. Not that I knew Jane, but I’d spoken to her. I’d seen her smile.

  I’d heard the surprise and fear in her voice.

  The glass doors opened, and a man wearing a polo and dress slacks stepped into the lobby. He checked the time on his phone, then tapped the screen a few times as he approached. His eyes lifted when he drew closer to the desk, where Krystal had just hung up the phone. “Have you tried Jane again?”

  Krystal’s head bobbed up and down, and suddenly I knew whose presence we were now in. “Excuse me?” It came out before I could stop myself. “Are you Mr. McGraw? Jane’s editor?”

  Knowing his name lent an added sense of credibility, and I could’ve kissed Krystal for sharing that little tidbit. He turned to me, sized me and Pete up in a single glance. The corners of his mouth tipped downward. “I am. Or was, before she decided to take a break without letting anybody know.”

  “She hasn’t let us know, either, which is why we’re here.” Pete’s voice held the slightest edge, like he’d done his share of sizing up and hadn’t been too impressed. “She’s nowhere we can find her, and we’re worried.”

  Pierce frowned. “That’s not like Jane, but then I knew that already. She’s conscientious. I have to give her that much.”

  “Have you told the police about her disappearance?”

  He scoffed. “Disappearance? No, I haven’t, but then I’m not a friend or member of the family. Granted, she doesn’t have any family I’m aware of.”

  My heart sank lower than ever. Given, her not having family meant there wasn’t a frightened Mom or Dad worrying themselves sick over her, but it also meant a lesser chance of people searching.

  Clearly, we were holding him up. He continued toward the doors, muttering at us over his shoulder. “When you talk to her, tell her she’ll need to return her passkey and laptop.” He didn’t wait for us to respond.

  I didn’t realize I was shaking with rage and disappointment until Pete put an arm around me. He was so solid and still compared to me just then. “Come on. Let’s go outside. You could use some air, I think.”

  There were a lot of things I could’ve used. A world in which people possessed empathy would’ve been a nice start. I let him lead me outside into the humid air which, surprisingly, was a welcome change from the cool lobby.

  “Ugh! Who does that guy think he is?” I shrugged away from Pete, fists clenched, feet practically stomping the stairs as we descended. “Like all he cares about is being inconvenienced. Not about a girl who’s missing.”

  “We still don’t know that for sure.” Though Pete didn’t sound thoroughly convinced when he said it. “She might be—”

  “What? Taking a much-needed vacation she never told anybody about?” I kicked a trashcan and immediately regretted it, hopping up and down on my other foot.

  “Way to go. Break your toe while you’re at it.” There was exasperation in Pete’s voice as he led me to a bench near the curb. “You can’t let yourself get too worked up over this.”

  “Can’t I?” I flexed my toes and was glad I’d chosen sneakers instead of sandals on this particular day—then again, I might not have kicked a stinking trash can had I worn open-toed shoes.

  He sat beside me. “When you’re investigating, you can’t let emotion take too large a role. I know it sounds impossible. It feels that way at first, come to think of it. But that’s the way it has to be, otherwise you’ll drive yourself insane. That doesn’t help anybody, does it?”

  “No.” I sounded like a surly teenager, grumbling like that.

  “You rest that foot and I’ll make a few phone calls. Hang tight.” He got up and stepped away, just far enough that I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I did my best to calm down while trying to make out who he was talking to.

  Eventually, it was clear. “No Jane Doe in the system. Thank you.” He ended the call, his third, and returned to me. “No Jane Doe listed in the three closest hospitals. No Jane Brooks, either.”

  I wanted to feel relief, but instead a ball of dread formed in the pit of my stomach. “What about the morgue?”

  “Darcy.” He sat down again and took my hand, his thumb rubbing the knuckles slowly, rhythmically. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “She could be dead, though. You realize that.”

  He exhaled. “I do.”

  “What if this attacker killed her? He might not have meant to, but it’s possible. Or he could’ve left her someplace and then she died. There’s so much we don’t know.”

  “I know one thing.” He stood, turning toward the building we’d just left. “There are cameras on every entrance, meaning there’d be footage of someone carrying a body out of the building. I can have a friend of mine up here look into it. You did call 911. It’s worth following up.”

  He must’ve noticed my horror. His expression shifted to one of sympathy. “Don’t sweat it. I won’t mention your name. I’ll think of a story to give him. Either way, he can request a look at the footage.” He pursed his lips, nodding slowly like the plan was coming together in his head. “The fact that two supposed friends of Jane’s came in to ask about her should be enough to explain away any questions that might come up as to why police are interested.”

  All I could do was shake my head in wonder. “I have to admit it. I don’t know what I’d do here without you.”

  “Eh, it’s part of the job.”

  “I’m a job now?” I grinned when he got flustered. “I’m kidding. I know what you meant.”

  Pete helped me off the bench, though I didn’t really need help. My foot was fine. “What’s the old saying? The only thing hurt was my pride?”

  He chuckled as we walked to our cars. “Now you sound like Grandma.”

  “Stop it with the flattery or I might not be able to control myself.”

  He tipped his head back and laughed, which was nice. It was a normal sort of thing to do when so much going on around me felt anything but. “You know what I meant. Boy, you’re in a feisty mood today.”

  “I guess situations like this do that to me.” And pop went my balloon. I deflated a little, leaning against the car. “Gotta love a dead end.”

  “It isn’t a dead end. I’ll stop by the station up here before heading home and see what my friend can do. He owes me one.”

  “How do you know cops from up here? I thought Joe was our only transfer.”

  “We’re a half-hour apart, so there are times when they might need a favor from us. Somebody on their radar decides to take a drive southbound on the Parkway, if you get my meaning. I’ve helped Joe pick up a couple of shady characters for him, and now he owes us.” He flashed a grin. “Or, rather, me. I’m sure Joe will understand.”

  As far as I was concerned, Joe never needed to understand. I spared Pete my song and dance, though, since something told me he’d be tired of hearing it. I was starting to get tired of hearing myself, to be honest.

  I settled for something better. “Thank you. Really. You know how to make a girl regret bad behavior, that’s for sure.” I wanted to shrivel up every time I remembered how I’d treated him, when all he’d been trying to do was help.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen much worse than that.” He winked, then opened the car door for me. “You go on home. Take care of yourself. I’ll shoot you a text whenever I hear from him. Okay?”

  “Okay. Though I wish I could get some rest. I have to host a bo
ok club meeting tonight.” I groaned at the thought while ducking into the car.

  “That’s right. I forgot that was tonight.”

  “You and me both—and I’m the one with the display in front of my face every single day, so I have no excuse.” I shrugged as he closed the door.

  I rolled down the window, letting him lean in a little. “Speaking of excuses, I still have your bowl.”

  My heart fluttered, or was that my imagination? “You’re saying that’s an excuse to see me? Returning my bowl?”

  “Something like that. Maybe I’ll bring it by sometime soon?”

  “Maybe you should.” I was grinning as I pulled away, and a glimpse in the mirror told me he watched me go before getting in his own car.

  At least he was a reason to smile, something bright and shining in the middle of so much yuck.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hey, girl!” Becca leaned in, peering at me from behind her webcam. All I could make out was freckles and red hair. “You okay?”

  I tried my best to smile but could tell it was no use when Becca frowned. “Tired. It’s been a long day. But I’m looking forward to this.”

  She wasn’t convinced. Her face scrunched up. “You sure you’re up to this tonight? I can handle a book club meeting in my sleep. Why don’t you chill out, get some rest?”

  I was starting to feel like an old woman, all these people telling me to get some rest. The image of me on my screen was familiar, even though I expected to see wrinkles and age spots and a head full of gray hair. “No, it’s fine. I’m not trying to complain or anything like that. This is a good thing! It’s been a long, long week, is all.”

  “It’s a shame you never take any time off. Otherwise I could say something like, at least it’s the weekend.” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “No offense, but eww.”

  We both laughed—I knew exactly what she meant and how she meant it—then I got my notes together on the book. It was a good thing I’d already read it and had scribbled down potential questions and discussion topics a week ago.