The air seeped out of Morgan’s lungs, leaving her hollow. She had no way of knowing if Tim was guilty or not. He wouldn’t be the first husband to kill his wife and then report her missing.
What if the sheriff was right? One of her greatest fears in practicing private law was that she could be responsible for keeping a criminal out on the street. She knew it would happen eventually. Criminals lied. It was what they did.
Morgan’s family sent criminals to jail. They didn’t keep them out. But last month’s case had eliminated any opportunity of her working in the prosecutor’s office. That bridge hadn’t been burned. It had been incinerated. She’d been hoping to work mostly civil litigation, but small-town lawyers couldn’t afford to be too picky. She could not pay her bills without clients.
The baby made another little noise.
The daylight pouring through the window showcased the deep bags under Tim’s eyes. He hadn’t slept in a while. Morgan clearly remembered her youngest child’s colic. It had seemed endless, even though John had been home to help for most of it. Poor Tim was doing it alone.
And he clearly did need her help.
Every defendant deserved good counsel, and her job as a defense attorney was to represent her clients to the best of her ability. She needed to have faith in the legal system.
She folded her hands in her lap. “So the sheriff has not officially cleared you?”
“I don’t know.” Tim lifted a shoulder. “He says he’s investigating other people, but I don’t believe him. They don’t seem to have any clues. Maybe if they’d actually tried, if they’d actually investigated someone besides me in the very beginning, they would have found her by now.”
Tim’s eyes glistened with moisture. He turned away and closed them for a few seconds.
Morgan doubted the sheriff hadn’t investigated anyone except Tim, but the spouse was always the primary suspect. Sadly, nearly one half of all female homicide victims were killed by their intimate partners. When Chelsea wasn’t found within the critical twenty-four- to forty-eight-hour period, any cop holding the case would have investigated Tim.
“Where were you Friday night?” Morgan was blunt.
But Tim didn’t miss a beat. “I was at home with the kids.”
“Can anyone verify that?” she asked.
“Bella and I had a video call with my in-laws around eight thirty for about fifteen minutes or so. After that, it was just me and the kids.”
“How old is Bella?”
“Three.”
Too young to provide an alibi.
“So you’ll help me?” Tim looked hopeful.
Morgan shared glances with Sharp and Lance. They were both on board. She looked down at the baby. He needed his parents. “Yes.”
The decision felt right. Better that she take the risk of representing the wrong client than turn her back on someone who needs her.
“Oh, thank God.” Tim relaxed as if the strength had gone out of his body.
“Now, tell us what happened Friday night.” Morgan gestured to a legal pad on Sharp’s blotter. He handed it and a pen to her.
Tim repeated his opening statement.
“Who was she supposed to meet?” Morgan asked.
“Her friend Fiona West,” Tim said. “They’ve been close since we moved here two years ago.”
“How did they meet?” Morgan made careful notes.
“Yoga class,” Tim said. “Before Chelsea had William, she went to yoga twice a week. Balanced Yoga. It’s next to the bank on Second Street.”
Tim took a shaky breath and continued. “When she didn’t come home, I called her. She didn’t answer. I sent texts and left messages. When she didn’t respond, I called her friend. Fiona said Chelsea never showed up at the restaurant. She assumed something had come up like the last time they’d had plans. Then I tracked Chelsea’s cell phone to her car. It was parked down the road from the train station in Grey’s Hollow. I called 911, then drove up and down that road until the sheriff’s deputy came. I didn’t see anything. As soon as it got light out, I searched again.” He struggled to hold back a tear as he glanced down at his son. “Good thing William likes car rides.”
“Is there any reason your wife would have gone to Grey’s Hollow or taken the train somewhere else?” Sharp asked.
“No.” Tim’s face tightened with frustration.
“Why is the county sheriff handling the case and not the Scarlet Falls PD?” Sharp asked.
“I called 911 from Grey’s Hollow,” Tim explained. “The sheriff’s department responded.”
Grey’s Hollow didn’t have a police force. Crimes in that section of the county were investigated by the sheriff’s office. Typically, once a department had a case, they kept it.
Tim continued. “Sheriff King says there’s no sign of foul play, and it isn’t against the law for an adult to leave home. That’s why I came to you.”
Lance shifted his position. “Has the sheriff’s department looked at her phone and computer?”
“Yes,” Tim answered. “They have both her laptop and phone. But I already looked at both devices and found nothing. I doubt the sheriff’s office has anyone more qualified than me.” Arrogance laced Tim’s tone.
“They have a protocol to follow,” Morgan said.
Tim wasn’t giving the county forensics techs enough credit. They were highly qualified.
“What exactly do you do, Tim?” Lance asked.
“I’m a wireless telecommunication engineer,” Tim said. “My employer, Speed Net, is working with the university on research to develop the next generation Wi-Fi.”
Maybe Tim had a reason to be a little arrogant about his tech skills.
“Must be interesting to work on the cutting edge,” Sharp said.
Tim shrugged. “It is. It’s also demanding.”
“We’ll need your employer’s contact information,” Lance said. “And we’ll want to interview your boss and coworkers.”
“All the information is in here.” Tim slid a file from his diaper bag and set it on the desk.
“I doubt the sheriff will give you her electronics back just yet,” Sharp said. “That’s too bad. I know you’re a computer expert, but we’d still like to look at your wife’s digital history. I’m sure you’re great with computers, but we know what to look for.”
“I’m willing to try anything,” Tim said. “Chelsea’s laptop and phone both backup to a cloud account every twenty-four hours. I can access everything that was on her computer from mine.”
“Perfect. Do you know what kind of initial physical search the sheriff conducted of the area where you found your wife’s car?” Lance asked.
Tim sniffed and reeled in his emotions. “The police searched the neighborhood. They drove along all the roads for a few miles in each direction. They put out some sort of alert to other police departments. They brought in a dog.”
Sharp rubbed his buzz cut with a palm. “The dog didn’t pick up anything?”
Tim shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Do you know what the sheriff is doing now?” Sharp asked.
Tim shook his head. “He doesn’t tell me much.”
“We’ll contact the sheriff and get an update,” Morgan assured him. “Do you know if the sheriff’s department interviewed any of your neighbors?”
“He did,” Tim said. “A few people dropped by to let me know.”
There were up to ninety thousand active missing persons cases in the United States at any given time, but missing adults often took a back seat to missing kids, homicides, robberies, and assaults. Without clear evidence of foul play, it was unlikely Chelsea’s case would take priority.
“Did you check your credit card statements for a train ticket?” she asked. Chelsea’s car had been parked so close to the train station.
“Yes. The last charge on her credit card was at the grocery store last Thursday,” Tim continued. “The police looked at the surveillance tapes from the train station. They said no one who
looked like Chelsea got on the train that night. She never carried much cash. If Chelsea wanted to take the train, she would have bought the ticket online. That’s what we usually do.”
Unless she didn’t want anyone to know where she was going.
But Morgan didn’t say it. There wasn’t enough evidence to make assumptions. The sheriff’s office had made the usual ones, and that by-the-book approach hadn’t found Chelsea. It was time for some fresh blood—and brains—on the case. She didn’t want Tim to have to live in limbo for the next twenty years.
Morgan glanced at Lance. His face was a tight mask, but emotion clouded the blue of his eyes. Since his father had gone missing many years ago and had never been found, this case would bring up unpleasant memories for him.
Tim tapped the file on the desk. “I brought copies of everything the police asked for: phone records, a list of her family and friends, our employers, bank and credit card statements, social media account information. I copied everything I gave to the police.”
The baby began to fuss, starting with bleating cries that quickly escalated to wails.
“I’m sorry.” Tim removed a bottle from the diaper bag, unstrapped the infant, and picked him up. He offered the baby the bottle. “But I’m at least grateful that he’s decided bottles are OK. The first two days Chelsea was gone were a nightmare. I thought he was going to starve.”
The baby drank in greedy gulps. Tim sat back, and Morgan’s heart squeezed.
Sharp took the folder and opened it. He thumbed through the papers. “Does Chelsea have an alcohol or drug problem?”
“No,” Tim said. “She hasn’t even had a glass of wine since she got pregnant with William. Friday night would have been her first. She’s fitter than I am. She runs almost every day. She loves to hike. As a couple, we’re about as boring as it gets.”
Sharp made a note on a legal pad on his desk. “How long have you and Chelsea been together?”
“Five years,” Tim said. “We met senior year of college in Colorado.”
“Why did you move to New York?” Sharp asked.
“I was offered a job with Speed Net. The move was a little risky, but the company has enormous growth potential. The payoff could be huge. We only had Bella at the time.” Tim’s gaze dropped to the baby. “In hindsight, leaving Chelsea’s family has been really hard.”
Morgan stared at the baby for a few seconds, empathy tugging at her. “Tell me about Chelsea’s family. Is there any friction there?”
“Not that I know of. Chelsea is an only child. Her father is a chiropractor. Her mother is a teacher.”
“Is your family in Colorado as well?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, but I was glad to leave them behind.” Tim raised his chin, his jaw tightening. “My parents are alcoholics and drug addicts. My father served time for burglary. Mom sold heroin out of our kitchen, and my brother was in prison for armed robbery when I left the state. I don’t want my family anywhere near my wife and kids. That has been the one additional benefit of moving east. Back home, they’d occasionally call or show up at our apartment looking for money. I haven’t had any contact with them since we moved here—though I’m a junior so my father’s records are constantly crisscrossing with mine.”
Morgan made a note to find out if Tim’s parents were still in Colorado. Who knew what kind of schemes three criminals in need of cash could hash out? Especially if they resented the one member of the family who’d successfully navigated the straight and narrow.
“Did you bring a photo of your wife?” Sharp asked.
“Yes.” Shifting the baby around, Tim reached down and produced a photo from the diaper bag. “This is Chelsea.” His hand trembled, just slightly, as he handed it across the desk to Sharp, who studied the picture with a frown.
Tim pushed his hair off his face. Then he squeezed the back of his skull for a few seconds, as if the pressure of his fingers would help hold it together.
Sharp passed the photo to Morgan. Wholesome and fresh-faced, Chelsea was a pretty young woman with long blonde hair, even white teeth, and big blue eyes. In the photo, she stood on a mountaintop. The background was pure blue sky and more mountains rolling into the distance.
“That was taken last year. We were hiking in the Catskills.”
Morgan handed the picture to Lance. He took the photo by its edges and studied it.
“How was Chelsea’s mental state after William’s birth?” Morgan remembered the chaos of her third child’s birth. There had been days she’d functioned like a zombie on autopilot. “Did she have any signs of postpartum depression?”
Tim sighed. “The sleep deprivation has been hard on her. I wouldn’t call her depressed, but she’s definitely frustrated. We both know William’s colic is temporary, but some nights it doesn’t feel that way.”
So, Chelsea Clark was a physically fit, mentally exhausted woman who was making the best of a tough situation.
Until she disappeared into thin air.
Morgan’s youngest child had been an infant when her husband had been killed in Iraq. Sophie had no memory of her father. Morgan’s middle child struggled to recall him, and even her oldest, now six, studied John’s picture every day in fear that she would forget her daddy. Would Tim’s children suffer the same way?
Not if she could help it.
Chapter Five
Lance’s hands went clammy as he listened to Tim’s story. The similarity between Chelsea’s disappearance and Lance’s own past echoed like shouts in a deep, dark cave. Twenty-three years ago, Lance’s father had gone to the store and never returned.
When Lance’s father had disappeared, his mother had suffered the exact same scrutiny—and frustration—that plagued Tim now.
But Sharp, who’d been the lead investigator, had quickly eliminated her as a suspect and moved on. Lance remembered being ten years old, sitting in the hallway just outside the kitchen, and listening in on the conversations between his mom and Sharp. His mother crying. Sharp trying to give her hope without making promises. As the weeks, months, and then years passed, those conversations hadn’t included any hope at all, and his mother had stopped crying and started fading away. Twenty-three years had gone by, but the memories still brought a sick feeling of helplessness to Lance’s gut.
Morgan leaned forward. “Tell me more about Chelsea. She worked before she had William?”
Tim nodded. “Chelsea is an accountant. The name and address of the firm is in the file.”
Sharp looked up from the papers he was rifling through. “Has she talked to her boss lately?”
“They talk on the phone about once a week.” Tim burped the baby. “He’s been really decent about holding her job for her. He’s even been letting her work from home part-time.”
“Do she and her boss get along? Any disagreements with coworkers?” Sharp asked. “Any unusual calls or e-mails on Friday?”
“Not that I know of.” A defeated sigh rolled through Tim. “Frankly, I don’t know what she did on Friday. I came home from work late, and Chelsea was mad at me. She didn’t have much time to get ready. Bella was already at a neighbor’s house. I took the baby. Chelsea changed her clothes and left. We haven’t talked much lately. She was exhausted from being up every night.” Tim looked away, guilt tightening the corners of his mouth. “I could be a better husband. Having William 24/7 these last few days has made me appreciate what Chelsea has been going through. I should have done more from the beginning. I know I work too much, but I don’t know what else to do. My job isn’t nine-to-five.”
“Do you fight often?” Morgan asked.
“No. It’s rare. Most of the time Chelsea just does what needs to be done,” Tim said with a sigh of remorse. “But I should have been home on time. Chelsea usually rolls with my schedule. I should have made her a priority for once.”
Chelsea sounded strong and resourceful. She dealt with her stress by strapping her two kids into a jog stroller and going running every day.
Maybe running had
gotten addictive. Maybe she’d run farther away.
But Lance didn’t believe his own father had abandoned his family. He had an equally hard time envisioning the young mother leaving her kids behind, even though he knew some women did just that. Either way, they needed to find her.
And if they didn’t, Tim would have to live with regret for the rest of his life.
Sharp asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Is there any chance your wife simply needed a break and left?”
Tim studied his son’s face for a few seconds. “I’ve asked myself that same question over and over again. Even if she was really mad at me, she’d never leave her kids. She had it all planned out. She nursed him right before she left. She’d have one glass of wine at eight thirty. It would clear her breast milk in two to three hours, and she’d be OK to nurse him by eleven thirty.” He lifted his gaze to meet each one of theirs. “She planned to be home. Something happened to my wife last Friday night.”
The baby began to squirm and squall, and Tim stood, jiggling his son. “We need her.”
“We’ll do everything we can.” Sharp got to his feet.
After Tim left, Morgan went to the kitchen to nuke a cup of leftover coffee. For a major case, they’d use her office as a war room. The whiteboard had hung on her office wall long before it was her office.
“I’m making green tea. Are you sure you want to drink that?” Behind her, Sharp nodded at the microwave. “That stuff will kill you.”
“I’ll risk it for fully functioning brain cells,” Morgan said on the way back to her office.
Lance was already staring at the whiteboard. He’d made copies of Chelsea’s picture and used a magnet to fasten the original to the center of the board. He’d started a timeline on one side, noting the time Chelsea left home and when Tim realized she was missing.
Sharp walked into the office, mug in hand. “Where do we start?”
Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2) Page 5
