Morgan tilted her head and nodded.
Tim might not have helped much with the baby, but he clearly went to work and paid the bills. But Lance was not going to argue. He kept his mouth firmly shut. Arguing with a witness wasn’t the best way to encourage the free flow of information.
Anger sharpened Fiona’s tone. “I stopped by to see her a couple of times a week. All she did was cry. I was worried she had postpartum depression.”
“Did you talk to her about it?” Morgan asked.
Fiona nodded, her eyes shining with moisture. She grabbed a tissue from a box on the coffee table and blotted her eyes. “I did. I tried to get her to see a psychiatrist. She said she just needed some sleep.” Fiona blew her nose. “In Tim’s defense, the baby wouldn’t drink from a bottle, and Chelsea refused to be firm. She gave in every time. She’s a pushover when it comes to her kids. I kept telling her if she was out of the house, the baby would figure it out.” Fiona lowered the tissue to her lap. “And Tim would have to do more.”
“You don’t think Tim had anything to do with her disappearance, do you?” Lance asked.
Fiona looked horrified. “No. God. No. I didn’t mean anything like that. Tim’s a perfectly nice guy. He’s just clueless and, frankly, a little whiny.”
Morgan leaned forward a little. “Fiona, I hate to even ask this, but I have to.”
Fiona’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“Is there any chance that Chelsea was so desperate that she needed to get away for a little while?”
“Are you asking me if Chelsea left her family?” Fiona asked.
“Yes.” Morgan nodded. “Part of lending fresh eyes to the case means we have to consider every possibility.”
Fiona shook her head hard. “No. No way. Chelsea loves those kids to death. She’d never leave them.”
“What about Tim? Would she ever leave Tim?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t think so.” But Fiona didn’t seem as adamant. “She excuses everything he does. ‘Tim goes to work all day. Tim’s tired. He’s great with Bella.’ That sort of thing. But even as she says it, you can tell she doesn’t think he helps out enough. But even if she was mad at Tim, she would never leave her kids.”
Morgan nodded. “She sounds like a wonderful mom and wife.”
“She is.” Fiona sniffed again.
“It’s a shame she and Tim were going through a rough patch,” Morgan empathized.
“It wasn’t just a rough patch.” Fiona shook her head. “They were having problems long before now.”
Morgan tilted her head. “What kind of problems?”
“Tim worked too much. Last year, Chelsea told me she felt like they were growing apart.” Fiona’s mouth twisted. “Then she did something really stupid. She got pregnant. I told her another baby would only make their problems worse, but she thought it would bring them together again.”
“But it didn’t,” Lance said.
“No.” Fiona sniffed.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Lance asked.
“I stopped by their house on Wednesday,” Fiona said.
“Was anything odd about her appearance or behavior?” he pressed.
“She was tired.” Fiona tossed her tissue in a wastebasket. “She’d just gotten back from a run. I watched the kids so she could take a quick shower.”
“How was William?”
“I tried to do a puzzle with Bella, but I ended up just walking in circles with the baby instead. He cried the whole time she was out of his sight.” Fiona picked at a fingernail. “But that’s normal for him.”
“The crying didn’t bother you?” Morgan asked. “My youngest was colicky. The screaming can get to you after hours and hours of it.”
Fiona shuddered. “It was nerve-racking, but I wanted to help. I don’t know how Chelsea stands listening to him bawl day and night.”
Lance added, “But other than the crying baby, nothing seemed abnormal?”
“No.” Fiona used her fingertips to swipe a tear from under one eye.
“Were you surprised when she didn’t show up on Friday night?” Morgan asked.
Fiona shook her head. “No. We were supposed to meet two weeks ago, but Chelsea was a no-show. I called her and she didn’t answer. I worried all night. The next morning, she sent me a text apologizing for blowing me off, saying William had had a bad night. God forbid Tim handle the baby for one evening.”
“So Friday night, you assumed the same thing had happened,” Morgan said. “When did you talk to Chelsea last?”
“Around seven. She was really excited to see me.” Fiona ignored a second tear. Her eyes were bright with tears as she lifted her gaze to Morgan and then Lance. “So where is she?”
“We’re going to do everything we can to find her.” Morgan asked a few more personal questions about Chelsea, but all of Fiona’s answers matched Tim’s.
“Please call me if you have any more questions,” Fiona said as she escorted them to the door. “I’ll do anything to help find Chelsea.”
Back in the Jeep, Lance started the engine. “What do you think? Is she being too hard on Tim or is he a self-absorbed jerk?”
“Hard to say.” Morgan set her bag on the floor. “Keep in mind, Fiona isn’t married and doesn’t have kids. From the outside, it may have appeared as if Chelsea was on her own. Who knew what it was really like? When Tim was in our office, he might not have seemed completely comfortable with the baby, but he was hardly incompetent. Clearly, he’s handled a baby in the past.”
“You’re probably right. Their little girl acted very comfortable with him this afternoon.” Lance drove toward the office. “What do you want to do for dinner?”
Morgan checked the time on her phone. “We don’t have much time before our meeting with Tim’s boss at Speed Net.”
“You hate to miss dinner with your girls.”
“It can’t be helped tonight. Gianna will feed them. Maybe I can make it home for bedtime.” Morgan had a family friend who insisted on performing live-in nanny duties in return for her keep.
“I know you want to find Chelsea, but we have to eat.”
Morgan skipped way too many meals.
“You’re right,” she said. “I just want to find her. I’ll take the Clarks’ financial records home with me tonight. I can go through them after the kids go to bed.”
“Sharp said he’d work on the phone records. I guess that leaves me with social media accounts.” Lance drove toward a deli.
Neither Morgan nor Sharp nor Lance would ever be the kind of professionals who could leave a case like Chelsea’s at the office at five o’clock. But on the other side of the equation, they couldn’t neglect the loved ones who depended on them. It was going to be a long night—the first of many until they found Chelsea Clark.
Alive or dead.
Chapter Eleven
The lobby of Speed Net reminded Lance of a trendy loft—sleek, industrial, and slightly cold. Building security rivaled that of a bank vault. Instead of glass, the front door was made of steel. Lance and Morgan had been buzzed into the building after speaking to the receptionist via a video intercom.
Lance had expected the start-up tech firm to employ a young, hip receptionist, but the woman sitting at the modern desk was middle-aged and dressed in comfortable navy-blue slacks and a white cardigan. She rounded the desk to greet them, and Lance suspected her heavy-soled black shoes were orthopedic.
The nameplate on the desk read BARBARA PAGANO.
Speed Net was founded by Elliot Pagano. Could this be his mother?
Morgan introduced them and handed the receptionist a business card.
“Hello. I’m Barbara. Elliot is waiting for you.” Her smile was a thousand times warmer than the metal-and-glass space around her. Lance half expected her to offer him a cookie.
Barbara stepped in front of a number pad and entered a code. Then she pressed her thumb to a small glass plate. The door unlocked with a soft snick, and she opened it. “This way
, please.”
Lance and Morgan followed Barbara into a large, open industrial-looking room filled with long tables, desks, and computer equipment. At the far end of the room, a few couches and overstuffed chairs were grouped around a large screen TV. Video-game controllers and soda cans littered the sleek coffee table. The ceiling was at least thirty feet high. The people milling around in their jeans and T-shirts and sneakers could have passed for the cast of American Pie. They crossed the polished concrete floor to a glassed-in conference room.
Morgan set her tote on the floor and sat in a gray leather chair at the table.
“You’re Elliot’s mom?” Lance asked.
“I am.” Barbara smiled. Her eyes shone with pride. “He doesn’t just let me work here; Elliot employs the whole family. There’s his dad and brother, Derek.” She pointed through the glass. At the far side of the cavernous outer room, two men were installing some sort of conduit along the base of the brick wall. “He’d be furious if he heard me say this, but Elliot is such a good boy. He takes care of all of us. Here he is now.”
The door opened and a young man walked in. Elliot wore jeans, sneakers, and a gray Doctor Who T-shirt emblazoned with a spinning TARDIS. His hair was short but in need of a trim. A thick chunk fell over his brow. According to their preliminary information, Elliot was a twenty-seven-year-old, self-made multimillionaire. He might be young, but he had the self-assured bearing of a more experienced man.
“Thanks, Mom,” Elliot said to Barbara as she bowed out of the room.
Lance held out a hand. “Thanks for meeting with us.”
“I’ll do anything to help. I can’t believe Chelsea is missing.” Elliot shook their hands and sat across from Morgan. Lance took the chair beside her. Tim had provided basic information about his employer. Elliot had built the company from the ground up after selling his previous start-up for a huge chunk of change. Not bad for a guy who had dropped out of college at the age of twenty.
“Nice that you let your parents work here,” Lance said.
“I tried to give them money, but my father practically burst a vein at the thought of taking money he hadn’t earned.” Elliot sighed.
“Hard to fault him for having a good work ethic,” Lance pointed out.
“This is true,” Elliot agreed. “Most of my employees got here by being smart and working hard. Of all of them, I have the most respect for Tim. I grew up poor, but I had the support and love of my parents. Family is everything to me. I don’t know how I would have handled my wife’s death without my family. Tim didn’t have that support network growing up, but I’m glad Chelsea’s family is here with him now.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Morgan said.
Elliot was a widower? But then losing a spouse so young could explain Elliot’s maturity.
“How much do you know about Tim’s background?” Morgan asked.
“Tim was up front about his family’s legal issues since his personal information gets mixed up with his father’s.” Elliot interlaced his fingers and leaned on his forearms. “I’m glad I hired him. He works his ass off, and he’s never given me any reason to doubt his loyalty.”
“What can you tell us about his wife?” Lance asked.
Elliot shrugged “I really don’t know Chelsea that well. We have holiday parties, and several times a year we hold picnics, where we participate in team-building exercises. Spouses are welcome. Chelsea always comes. She seems very sweet. Loves her kids like crazy,” Elliot said with a sad smile.
Lance glanced through the glass. Everyone looked young. Very young. Many must be fresh out of college, and apparently not one of them owned an iron. At the ripe old age of thirty-three, Lance felt ancient. A young man in skinny jeans and a knit beanie cruised by on a skateboard. The glass muffled the click-clack of his wheels on the polished concrete.
“How valuable is the research Tim’s team is working on?” Morgan asked.
“Very,” Elliot said. “The technology we’re developing has the potential to transform Internet access on a global scale, increasing access to low-cost, multigigabit wireless connectivity.”
“Tim is a state-college grad,” Morgan said. “I would think a high-tech, cutting-edge firm like Speed Net would want graduates from more prestigious universities.”
Elliot steepled his fingers. “I went to a prestigious university. I didn’t fit in. Rich, privileged kids weren’t and aren’t my people. If you’ve watched your parents struggle to pay bills, if your family has been evicted from their apartment in the middle of winter, if you’ve made a meal out of government cheese and ketchup packets, you understand the value of success in a way someone who hasn’t struggled doesn’t. If, in spite of your family’s poverty, you’ve managed to get an advanced college degree, you have my attention.”
Refreshing attitude.
Elliot sat back. “Plus, I can’t afford MIT grads anyway.”
And practical.
“Who is your strongest competitor?” Lance asked.
“Gold Stream,” Elliot said with no hesitation. His mouth flattened. “Levi Gold and I used to be partners. We started our first tech company, TechKing, when we were twenty-two. We had a disagreement and sold the company.”
“How ugly was your disagreement?” Lance pressed. “Would he hold a grudge or try to sabotage your research?”
Elliot shook his head. “If someone tried to hack our system, I’d look hard at Levi. But kidnapping? No.”
“Does anyone here at Speed Net have a grudge against Tim?” Morgan asked.
“No.” Elliot frowned, but the wariness that clouded his eyes belied his denial.
“But surely your team members argue?” Morgan suggested. “Stress is high. There’s a lot at stake.”
“We have our share of disagreements, but we’re all professionals here.” Elliot said in an almost snippy voice. “I’m the boss. If anyone has earned a grudge, it would be me.”
Lance sensed Elliot was holding something back. “Do your other employees know Chelsea?”
“Yes. They would have met her the same way I did.” Elliot crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, putting a few more inches of space between them. One finger tapped on his opposite bicep.
Elliot’s body language radiated stress. Lance shared a quick glance with Morgan. The communication between them was silent but swift. Her interest was piqued too. But she also knew the power of silence. A few seconds ticked away, allowing them to hear the muffled sounds of activity on the other side of the glass.
Elliot sighed loudly. “All right. We had a company event about six weeks ago. It was a picnic. Tim and his daughter were running in the three-legged race. It was cute. He’s totally hung up on his kid.” Elliot took a breath. His brow lowered. “Chelsea was sitting at a picnic table, pushing the baby stroller back and forth. I noticed one of our other engineers on Tim’s team, Kirk, watching her.”
He paused, a furrow forming above the bridge of his nose. He stared at the wall as if replaying the scene in his mind. “I’m sure it was totally innocent. Chelsea is a very attractive woman. Young guys, particularly nerdy young guys with little experience with women, are bound to notice her.” Elliot looked over his shoulder. “If you look through the glass, Kirk is the one with the skateboard.”
Lance scanned the office. Beanie boy had emerged from the locked room and was cruising across the space to an open kitchenette. He could have been in high school. He still had pimples. “How old is Kirk?”
“Twenty-three,” Elliot said. “Kirk earned his PhD last year. He’s brilliant, but he has Asperger’s. Emotionally, he’s much younger, and social communication is difficult for him. He can talk all day about the challenge of delivering high-frequency, 5G spectrum wireless without a sufficient fiber-optic cable infrastructure. But he can’t ask a girl out on a date.”
“Has Kirk ever had any negative interactions with female coworkers?” Lance scanned the people on the other side of the glass. More than three-quarters of the employe
es in sight were male.
Elliot shook his head. “No. Everyone here is a geek. We all speak the same language, and as long as the conversation doesn’t venture into personal territory, Kirk is fine.”
“Can we talk to everyone on Tim’s team?” Morgan asked.
“Of course.” Elliot rose. “Do you want me to send them in one by one?”
Lance nodded. “Please.”
Elliot hesitated at the door. “You’ll be gentle with Kirk?”
“We will.” Morgan gave him a sincere, close-lipped smile.
“And understand, they will not be permitted to talk about the project,” Elliot said. “It’s a general rule.”
Lance thought, Thank God.
But he said, “Yes. Of course. One more thing. We’d like a list of all your employees.”
Elliot frowned. “I don’t know. I assure you they were all vetted before they were hired. And the sheriff took a list with him. I assume he was checking everyone for criminal records.”
“We know,” Lance said. “It’s always good to have fresh eyes on any investigation. You’d be surprised what can be missed with an overabundance of information.”
“All right,” Elliot agreed. “Everyone who works here signs off on periodic drug and background investigations due to the sensitive nature of the business. I don’t like to violate my employee’s trust, but this is an extraordinary situation.”
“Do you remember where you were last Friday night?” Morgan asked casually. “We need to be thorough.”
“I understand.” Elliot nodded. “I was with my brother at his place.”
“What did you do?” Lance asked.
“Nothing really. He was working on his road bike. I watched. We had a few beers.” Elliot shrugged. “Derek’s girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks ago. He’s been depressed.”
“I don’t suppose anyone saw you there.” Morgan looked up from her notes. “Did you order takeout? Run to a convenience store?”
“No. Sorry. If had known I was going to need an alibi, we would have gone out,” Elliot said drily. “Let me get Kirk for you.”
He left the room. A few minutes later, Kirk shuffled into the conference room, turned his skateboard over, and set it on the table in front of him. Bouncing into the chair Elliot had vacated, Kirk watched his skateboard wheels spin. He flicked quick, almost furtive glances at Morgan and ignored Lance completely.
Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2) Page 10
