“That’s my sister. She’s staying with me for two weeks.”
“I can’t find her.” The meanness in his eyes faded, replaced by tears. “I’ve looked for her. I’ve looked everywhere for her.”
Chris took a deep breath. “All right. Give me a second. Just stay right here.” He walked inside, shut the door.
Addy was upright on the couch, curled up in a blanket. She hopped to her feet and followed him to his bedroom. “Who was that?”
“Jules Belleno’s father.”
“Jules? You mean, Jason’s . . . ?”
“That’s right.”
“What is he doing here?”
Chris went to his closet to pull on jeans and a shirt. “I saw him earlier today. He couldn’t find her, was worried.”
Addy walked into the closet, her arms wrapped tightly around herself for warmth. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know what this is,” Chris said, feeling his own aggravation. “He claimed something was wrong, but she’d only been missing for twenty-four hours or so.”
“But he’s here, in the dead of night?”
Chris glanced at her. “And drunk.”
She looked him up and down, like she’d just noticed he was getting dressed. “Where are you going?”
“First of all, I’m driving him home. After that, I don’t know.” He looked at her. “Addy, this doesn’t sound like her, to disappear.”
Addy stared at the carpet. “I don’t know her that well. I just remember you talking about her, and I met her at the funeral.”
“I went through her house. Everything looked fine. Her car’s there, but it’s not unusual for her to walk to someplace like the store or fish market.”
“Maybe she finally had a nervous breakdown. I mean, is it really that unexpected? After Jason . . . you know, she sort of turned into a recluse. She always seemed like such a . . . complicated mess.”
Chris rubbed his tired eyes and didn’t answer.
“You couldn’t force her to let you help,” Addy said, resting a hand on his arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
He went to the front door, grabbed his gun, tucked it in the waist of his jeans, and said, “Well, you’re awake. Get my truck keys and follow me over there so I don’t have to take a cab home.”
“You look horrible,” Maecoat said as they stepped into roll call. “Like there might be a woman involved.”
“Funny,” Chris said, but if his eyes looked as bad as they felt, he knew he was in for some ribbing today.
“Seriously. You don’t get bags like that unless you’re talking way into the night about how you feel and how she feels and how you both feel together.”
“Only you’d know something like that, Maecoat.”
“You’re trying to tell me that the whites of your eyes look like rivers of blood because you got a good night’s sleep?”
Chris sighed and glanced up to see the captain delayed in a conversation right outside in the hallway. He lowered his voice. “It wasn’t a woman.”
“I have got to get you a life.”
“It was the Lt. Colonel.”
“Franklin?”
“Yep.”
“You know how many times I’ve had to take that guy home? I once found him in a ditch. No joke, four o’clock in the morning. No car. Nothing but him, passed out.”
“Yeah, well, this is a little more complicated.”
“Yeah?”
“Juliet Belleno is missing.”
“Missing? What does that mean?”
“He hasn’t seen her since Tuesday morning.”
“So he tried to file a—”
“Yeah. But . . . I mean, there’s something to be said for his concern. Jules hardly leaves the house. Ever since Jason . . . you know—she just doesn’t leave, except maybe for the store or something like that.”
“You get into the house?”
“He had a key.” Chris glanced at the ground. He’d never been a very good liar. “Everything checked out. Keys, purse, cell phone gone, but car still there. So a friend could’ve come by and gotten her. She could’ve taken the bus somewhere.”
“What are you going to do?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked again toward Captain Perry, who was finishing up his conversation. “You know how flexible the captain is.”
Maecoat smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll really have his ear.”
“I should try.”
“Worth a shot, I guess. But Perry hates the Lt. Colonel.”
“They have their own little war going, don’t they?”
“So the rumor goes.”
The captain walked in and the morning lineup went as usual. They were briefed on a couple of robberies. Teens gathering too late at the beach.
Maecoat bumped his arm as they were dismissed. “Louie’s at noon?”
“Sounds good.”
Because Wissberry was a fairly small community—under ten thousand residents—their police force consisted of thirty rotated partners. Some weeks Chris rode by himself; other weeks Maecoat was with him.
Chris stood, trying to decide what to do. He’d left the Lt. Colonel passed out on the couch of his daughter’s home to keep watch for her, after promising the man that he’d do what he could today.
“Downey, you just going to stand there all morning?”
“Sorry . . . sir . . .” Chris blinked and regarded the captain, who gave him a small smirk. Well, he seemed to be in a decent mood. “Cap, can I talk to you for a second?”
“What about?”
Chris decided to leave the Lt. Colonel out of it for the moment. “You know Jason’s wife, Juliet?”
“Sure.”
“Her family is concerned. She’s been missing for almost forty-eight hours.”
“You know the drill.”
“I do,” Chris said, stepping closer. “But Jules isn’t really the type to just go away without notice. In fact, in the last couple of years, she doesn’t really leave the house much.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“So I think there might be some validity to his concerns.”
The captain finally looked up from his paperwork, over the rim of his glasses. “Look, Chris, I can appreciate your personal interest in this. But you know how strapped we are for manpower. I can’t put a detective on this for another day, and that’s if we’re lucky. You see where I’m coming from, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Of course.” He paused. “Maybe I can take a preliminary look into it. See if I can find something of interest.”
The captain took off his glasses, gave Chris a weary look.
“It’s not just anybody.”
The captain blinked long and hard. “Sorry, Chris. It’s got to wait. I can’t bend procedure, and you know that.”
“Understood.” Chris nodded with no intention of complying whatsoever.
“YEAH. THIS IS GREAT. Just great,” Maecoat moaned as they got out of Chris’s squad car. “These crab cakes are no good cold.”
“You didn’t have to come. You shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“And my crab cakes are cold. Bad idea all the way around.”
“His truck’s gone,” Chris said.
“And that’s the only reason I’m trailing you on this thing. I’d hate to take a big-shot Marine down with a stun gun, but I’d do it just because he thought about opening his mouth.”
Chris walked up the front porch steps, hoping that the door wasn’t unlocked. Then he could say he tried, it was locked, and his hands were tied. He wasn’t sure what time the Lt. Colonel had left, but he probably wasn’t in top-notch condition. Chris reached for the door, slowly turned the knob.
It opened. Chris sucked in a breath and glanced at Maecoat.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Maecoat said.
They walked in, Maecoat stuffing a crab cake into his mouth. “Wow,” he said, food bulging from his cheek. “Tidy, huh?”
He walked to a small table near the kitchen, his eyes roaming over the five picture frames of Jason and Jules. Jason had nicknamed her Jules when they first met. Her given name was Juliet, but Jason had insisted he was no Romeo. In his vows at the wedding, though, he’d surprised everyone by proclaiming, “My love for you might just put Romeo to shame.” Jules burst into tears because Jason was not a man who openly expressed his emotions much.
Jules fit her better anyway, Chris always thought. She was athletic and pretty in a natural sort of way. Long, wavy brown hair and a grin that set the room ablaze. She was shy, though, and Chris was more used to seeing her laugh at Jason’s jokes than tell her own.
A few weeks before Jason and Jules were married, while he and Chris were sitting in their car eating lunch, Jason had said, “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“If something ever happens to me, take care of her for me.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you. That’s why God gave you me. I’m like your guardian angel, except with more muscles. And I’m a good shot.”
“Downey?”
Chris blinked. “Yeah?”
“You blanked out for a second,” Maecoat said.
“Sorry.” Chris realized he was staring at the wedding photo. He picked up the frame and noticed the date engraved on the frame. “Maecoat, come here.”
“What?”
“Look at this date.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“That was Tuesday. Tuesday would’ve been their anniversary.”
Maecoat nodded, setting down the Styrofoam box that contained his food. “That’s not good. But she could’ve just gone away, right? Just some time to think?”
“Maybe.” Chris set the photo down. “Except maybe isn’t good enough here. It can’t be a coincidence she went missing on the day of her anniversary.”
“You’re probably right,” Maecoat said. “But it is also most likely a sign that she took off to get away.”
“Without telling her dad? The one person who consistently checks up on her? She wouldn’t do that. I know Jules. She’s too caring of a person.”
“Maybe she’s finally gotten fed up with the old guy.”
Chris turned, scanning the room. “We need to find her calendar.”
“That won’t be hard. Everything is labeled.”
“You get on that. I’m going to check her computer.”
“Whoa . . . wait a minute. Chris, we can’t . . . I mean, taking a peek is one thing. Getting into her computer? You could get in real trouble. You know that. We’re just nosing around a little bit here. Right?”
“You go find that calendar. I’ll take the fall for this.”
Maecoat sighed and wandered off. Chris sat down at the perfectly neat desk that housed a desktop computer and flat-screen monitor, his hands shaking slightly. He was breaking every protocol and procedure there was, and he took it seriously. But he had to do this for Jason. He’d already failed once and now Jules was missing.
He pulled the chair close and leaned forward, moving the mouse. Like he thought, the computer had been in sleep mode. To him, this meant she had intended to come back. If she knew she’d be gone for a while, it would have been turned off. Especially with all of the eco-friendly, energy-saving devices he’d noticed around the house.
“Found it!” Maecoat called from the kitchen. “In a drawer labeled ‘Calendars.’”
“She’s making this easy on us,” Chris said. The computer awakened to her Facebook page. Her last post read, Hoping the rain moves out today!
Maecoat walked in. “Nothing unusual on her calendar for Tuesday, yesterday, or today. But Tuesday’s date is lightly circled in pencil. Nothing written.”
“Did the sun come out Tuesday?”
Maecoat stared at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
“Yes.”
“I was busy admiring the grass.”
“Humor me.”
Maecoat sighed. “I think it did. I was working that accident on the highway and it seemed like it got a little warm. I took off my gloves.”
“So maybe she did walk to the store.”
“There are a lot of maybes here.”
Chris stared at the computer. He was crossing the line here. Big-time. His hand retreated from the mouse and he stood. He had to trust the system. At least partly.
But he also had to eliminate some of the maybes.
JULES OPENED HER EYES. She’d been with Jason again. They’d sat on a park bench and she told him that she’d been angry with him. Why couldn’t he save her from all this grief? Why couldn’t he help her move on? She knew it was “till death do us part,” but Jason never believed in death. He said the soul goes on. He believed in a heaven that she never could fully wrap her mind around.
She’d feared death ever since she was a child. It was just as sure as her birth, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. Death seemed to be the most unnatural thing a human could experience. What was this life for if not loving and living and changing and breathing? What was the point of it all if death took it away?
Her wrists were sore. Why? She briefly closed her eyes again, trying to summon Jason back. She had also had a nightmare, but it was far away now, its sounds swallowed by other memories and thoughts. She remembered nothing but emotion: terror followed by a strange, overwhelming comfort.
Then she noticed them again. The curtains. When did she put up curtains? The light, bright and spraying around their edges, hurt her eyes. It was like she had a hangover. Since when did morning light hurt her eyes?
She turned to look at the bedside clock, which was not there. Her gaze caught something red written on the white ceiling. Her vision was still blurry and a throbbing headache required extra effort to focus.
DON’T TELL ME IT’S TERRIFYING. TERRIFY ME.
Jules gasped, scrambling back toward the headboard, reading and rereading the large red letters. Those were her words . . . the words she’d written on her blog. She glanced around the room, her mind barely able to translate what she was seeing. There was nothing familiar. This was not her bedroom. She looked down at herself. She was in soft, cotton, button-up pajamas. She didn’t own a pair of pajamas like this. She always slept in a T-shirt and shorts.
Her limbs starting to tremble, she stared at the ceiling again, trying to reason out what was going on. But her mind was so foggy. It felt like every thought had to be pushed through a wall of mud.
Then she heard footsteps at a door she’d hardly noticed. The grain was clearly visible in the wood. It looked sturdy, heavy, thick. Below the door, where more light seeped through, a shadow appeared and the footsteps stopped. She wanted to run to the window, try to escape, but she wasn’t sure what she was escaping from. Maybe there had been an accident. Maybe . . . maybe this was all a bad dream. She rubbed her wrists, noticing again that they were sore. Red marks wound around both of them.
“Jason,” she whispered. “Jason, I need you.”
The knob turned slowly, and then the door opened. A man stood at the threshold for a moment, observing her. The fact that he looked familiar comforted her a little. But she couldn’t place him. Balled at the top of the bed, squeezing her knees to her chest, she watched him carefully. He held a tray with a bowl and a glass of water.
“You’re awake,” he said, so low and deep, like wisdom had just found its voice. He stepped toward her. “I brought you some food. You really must eat. Your stomach is going to feel ill if you don’t.”
“Am I sick?”
“Not yet. Thus, the food.” He set the tray down at the end of the bed. The smell of a cream soup streamed toward her.
&nbs
p; She looked at him. His eyes, hazel and heavily hooded, were round and perceptive, stunning against the filtering light. His features seemed chiseled from the finest, smoothest stone. He had deep creases on either side of his mouth yet didn’t seem prone to smiling.
“Do I know you?”
“Not really,” he said mildly, opening a packet of crackers for her. “You probably believe you do, but you don’t. You simply do not.”
“Do you know me?”
Those wise eyes studied something in front of her that she couldn’t see. “I shouldn’t know as much as I do,” he finally said, then focused on opening another packet of crackers.
She glanced up at the ceiling, at those horrible words scribbled in dark red.
“Your words,” he said.
“I wrote them on my blog this morning.” A deep, heavy pain crushed her chest.
“Not this morning. Tuesday morning. Stay calm.” His voice purred the command, his words echoing against all her thoughts.
“I don’t understand what is happening.” Tears dropped down her cheeks and she wiped each eye with the back of her hand.
“You lack a lot of understanding,” he said, pushing the tray closer to her. “That is why you are here. There is an ignorance about you that doesn’t become you.”
And then, with one blink, Jules knew him. She gasped and covered her mouth. “You’re . . .”
He stood abruptly, causing the food tray to tip. Soup sloshed out the side of the bowl. He seemed bothered by it and stared at it for a long moment. Then looked up at the ceiling as though he was noticing the words for the first time.
“Yes, I am.” His tone sounded like the grumbling of a distant thunderstorm. “And I intend to.” He lowered his gaze to her. “Don’t try to escape. You will die out there,” he said, nodding toward the window she couldn’t see out. “There is nobody nearby. You will stay here, with me, until we are finished. You have a lot to learn.” He stepped toward the door. “Don’t scream. I don’t like screaming. Nobody is around to hear you but me, and I can’t state clearly enough how much revulsion I have for that sound.”
Misery Loves Company Page 3
