The Missing Comatose Woman

by Sarah Ettritch

  “Then why kidnap her?” Casey asked, as she ran through the possibilities. Had he been dissatisfied with the hospital’s handling of Jackie’s case? Had he wanted Jackie to be treated at a specific clinic, maybe out of the country? Did he live in another province and he wanted Jackie closer to him? Why had he kept Ellen out of the picture?

  “Forget all the crap about the spa and the food poisoning. Find him and you’ll find her.”

  Casey bit her tongue. Thank you, Ms. Obvious, but easier said than done. Regardless of whether Steve Rose was friend or foe, he was the key to the case. “Steve Rose, the one who took her from the hospital…he claimed to be her son.”

  “And you’re wondering if there are any family skeletons this one doesn’t know about.” Joan took several puffs of her cigarette, stretching the suspenseful silence. “Nope.”

  “No son.”

  “Nope. Just this one.”

  “And Mom and I are close. Real close,” Ellen said. “She wouldn’t keep a relationship from me, especially a serious one. Why would she do that, eh? Why, Aunt Joan?”

  “You’ll have to ask her,” Joan said.

  Ellen’s face tightened. “There’s no point asking her because she wouldn’t keep it from me.”

  They glared at each other. Not expecting to learn anything useful from Joan, Casey interjected, “Well, thanks for seeing me. I don’t have any more questions.”

  Joan’s brows shot up. “That’s it? I didn’t tell you anything.”

  Not entirely true, and the visit had strengthened Casey’s suspicion that Jackie knew Steve Rose. “Do you know anything that might help? If you know of a question I should have asked…” she said, appealing to Joan’s ego.

  “Nope.”

  Okay, then. She stood, wanting to avoid more bickering between Ellen and Joan.

  “You don’t mind seeing yourselves out, do you?” Joan said.

  “No.” Ellen started to follow Casey into the hallway, then changed her mind and walked back to Joan. “We should have dinner soon, okay?” She pecked Joan on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  Outside, Ellen sniffed her jacket sleeve and groaned. “I’ll have to throw everything into the laundry.” She touched Casey’s arm. “I’m sorry about that. I told you she can be difficult.”

  “It’s okay,” Casey mumbled.

  “She’s all I have now.” Ellen blinked. “If we don’t find Mom…”

  “We’ll find her.”

  Ellen nodded, but Casey didn’t blame her for having doubts. They climbed into Ellen’s car. Before firing up the engine, Ellen turned to her. “I must owe you more money by now.”

  “Yeah, but…” She felt guilty about taking more of Ellen’s money when she hadn’t made any real progress. Yes, she still had a lead—the emails—but if that didn’t pan out, she had no idea what she’d do next.

  “Work out how much and I’ll write you a cheque when I drop you off,” Ellen said. “Don’t short-change yourself. You’re the only one who’s working on this, and I know you want to find Mom as much as I do.”

  True, but for different reasons. If Casey didn’t find Jackie, she’d want to refund all of Ellen’s money and never take another case. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this game.

  Twenty minutes later, she let herself into the apartment and stared at the cheque in her hand. She’d better earn this money.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Gran shouted from the sofa. “I’ve been trying to call you. We need bread.”

  Shit, she’d forgotten to turn her phone back on after leaving Joan’s. “I’ll nip out and get a loaf.”

  As she waited for the elevator, she pulled out her phone to check messages, and smiled when she listened to the one from Emily. Yes, she definitely wanted to meet to discuss the emails; in fact, she couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Nine

  Not wanting to give Emily the impression that she cared mostly about the emails, Casey was waiting for Emily to raise the subject. She lifted her hamburger and said, “Do you eat here often?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to groan at what sounded like a lame pickup line.

  “It’s close to the computer building.” Emily sprinkled more salt on her fries. “Clean, fast, food is decent…I usually bring in my lunch. But when we go out, we usually come here. I occasionally meet friends here for dinner, too.”

  Did that include Casey? She wasn’t sure if she was a friend, a girlfriend, or in a transitional stage between the two.

  “By ‘we,’ I mean the graduate students, especially the ones studying under the same prof.”

  “I see,” Casey said, not really seeing. Beyond knowing that students had to present a thesis, studying for a PhD was a mystery to her. What was she doing here? Emily wouldn’t stay interested in a high school graduate pretending to be a private investigator for long.

  Emily swallowed a mouthful of food and set her half-eaten hamburger on her plate. “About the emails…”

  Casey casually sipped her Coke.

  “I didn’t find anything useful,” Emily said with an apologetic smile. “All I can tell you is that whoever sent them used an ISP in Toronto. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You said you probably wouldn’t find anything.” Yet Emily had wanted to deliver the news in person—or maybe just wanted to have dinner with her but was afraid to ask. Either explanation was endearing.

  “Do you have any other leads?” Emily asked.

  “Not really.” So many tantalizing clues, all leading to dead ends. Sighing, she stuck a fry into her mouth. She wanted to scream, “I suck at this!” but that would be unfair to Emily. What would she do, offer empty words of assurance? Smile sympathetically? Suddenly become interested in her food and wish she were somewhere else? “Maybe I’ll email the person,” she blurted. “They probably used a throwaway email address, but it’s worth a try.”

  Emily looked at her. “Who do you think the email account belongs to?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure the name’s fake.”

  Emily shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Is it someone who can help you find the missing person?”

  Hell, yes! “I think they might be responsible for the person going missing.”

  “You mean you suspect foul play?” Emily’s eyes widened. “I thought maybe it was a runaway.”

  “And the emails were coming from the runaway?”

  “Yes. I didn’t think you were looking into a criminal matter. Shouldn’t the police be handling it?”

  Casey chewed on another fry. “They are. Well, they looked into it and didn’t get anywhere. They’re not even sure a crime was committed. It’s still an open case, but I doubt it’s getting much attention.”

  Emily leaned forward to gaze intently at Casey. “Don’t email the person.”

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. It could be dangerous.”

  “It’s my only lead.”

  Emily’s forehead creased with worry. “Still. Hand over what you have to the police.”

  Frustration crept into Casey’s voice. “I have.” How could she explain to Emily that she needed to prove to herself that she hadn’t just wasted months of her life, in the face of everyone’s skepticism? The long days, the studying, the anticipation of a new start…her determination that she wouldn’t be Casey in the electronics department forever—at least that had been the theory. If she didn’t solve this case, Diane would say I told you so, and Ellen would tell anyone who’d listen not to hire the kid who took your money and produced diddly-squat in return. Next time someone phoned about a case—Casey felt like laughing—she’d feel like even more of an imposter than she had when Ellen had called. If she wasn’t willing to take risks, to follow every clue until there was nowhere left to go, she didn’t belong in this business. “Whatever I send will probably bounce.”

  “What if it doesn’t? And what will it accomplish? As you said, the email address is likely a throwaway. The name o
n the account is probably bogus.”

  “I have to do something,” Casey snapped, then she winced. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Emily said softly. “I have no right to meddle.”

  Casey wanted to say that Emily was only worried about her, but it would sound presumptuous.

  “Just be careful,” Emily said.

  They lapsed into a heavy silence.

  “Do you have any pets?” Casey asked, hoping a change of subject would lighten the atmosphere.

  Emily chuckled. “I was about to ask if you have any favourite TV shows. I like your question better.” She held up two fingers. “Two cats.”

  “Are they purebreds?” Please, please, don’t let her say they’re Sphynxes.

  “No. I got them both from the Humane Society. They’re brother and sister. Tiggy and Tippy. Both gray tabbies.” She whipped out her phone. A few seconds later, she held the phone out to Casey. “Tiggy’s on the left,” she said as Casey examined the photo of two tabbies stretched out on the floor, catching the sun. “How about you?”

  “We have one cat. Midnight.”

  “Black?”

  Casey nodded. “Yeah, how original. I don’t have any pictures on my phone, though,” she said, feeling as if she’d let Mid down.

  “Did you know black cats are the least adopted from shelters? Same goes for black dogs. Stupid superstitions,” Emily muttered. She held out her hand for her phone. “I won’t bore you with all the other photos of them.” A smile played on her lips. “Not today, anyway.”

  Casey handed the phone over. So, Emily adored cats. She felt a grin coming on.

  “So you and your grandmother have a cat,” Emily drawled. She picked up one of her few remaining fries. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you live with your grandmother?” She groaned. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was—”

  “Since I’m living with family, why aren’t I living with my parents?”

  Emily pointed the fry at her. “Right.” The fry disappeared into her mouth. She froze. “I hope I haven’t just put my foot in it.”

  “Don’t worry, my parents didn’t die in an accident when I was three. They’re both very much alive.” Casey grabbed her napkin and started playing with it. How much should she divulge to the PhD student sitting across from her?

  “If it’s too personal, I’ll understand. I’ll ask again when we know each other better,” Emily said with a shy smile.

  Casey’s reticence fled. “After high school, I didn’t go on to college or university,” she said, still clinging to the napkin. Even now, the compulsion to apologize was strong. “My father and older brother are engineers. My mother is a teacher. My older sister got her bachelors in economics and now she’s doing her MBA while working for some hotshot company. I don’t remember either one of my siblings getting less than an A or a 90 for anything.” Suddenly aware that she was balling the napkin in her hand, she consciously relaxed her fingers. Emily was staring at her, expressionless, probably wondering what any of this had to do with Casey living with Gran.

  “I was the C student who didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life,” Casey continued, hoping she didn’t sound bitter. “When I was in my final year of high school, it was one argument after another. They—my parents—kept insisting that I should choose something and try to get into university, that I’d at least have a degree at the end, and hopefully have figured out what I wanted to do. But I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t see the point.” She paused when Emily shifted in her seat, then went on when Emily remained silent.

  “They were disappointed.” Understatement of the freaking year. “They didn’t hold a party when I told them that my part-time job at Walmart would become full time. Around a year after I graduated, they said that if I wasn’t going to continue my education, there was no point living at home. I was an adult who was earning. Time to move out. I think they were hoping I’d respond by going to school. I think that’s what they were hoping.” At least she’d told herself that as she’d digested the reality that her parents were kicking her out. Had their shock run as deep as hers when she’d said that she had no intention of going to university, so she’d start looking for an apartment? Had they intended it to be a bluff?

  “I was tired of the constant jabs, anyway.” They’d never come out and told her how much she’d disappointed them, but it hadn’t taken a private investigator to pick up on all the clues. Two over-achieving children, and one they didn’t understand. When they met new people, did they say they had two children, or three? Did they mumble when they explained what their youngest did for a living? Heck, when she’d told them she’d registered for a program to get her PI licence, they’d barely resisted rolling their eyes. She’d thought they’d be proud…

  “Anyway, I wasn’t making much more than minimum wage, and I realized that I’d either have to find a roommate, which I didn’t want to do, or live in a dump. That’s when Gran stepped in. I was moaning about my apartment search and she suggested moving in with her. She said I was over there half the time anyway,” Casey said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

  “Escaping from the home front?” Emily said.

  “Not entirely. I’d usually drop in on her after work to see if she needed anything, and I’d end up staying for dinner and watching some TV with her.” Casey shrugged. “When she suggested it, I wasn’t crazy about the idea. Who wants to live with their grandmother? But the more I thought about it, the more I figured it would help both of us, and she kept bringing it up. So I moved in.”

  “That was…”

  “Three years ago.” And despite Gran’s bluster, she’d never once hinted that Casey should go back to school, or shown any disappointment in her youngest grandchild. Casey had arrived on Gran’s doorstep with all of her possessions except her bike stuffed into a carry-on luggage bag and two knapsacks. Gran had seen through her fake grin and enveloped her in a bear hug. “Thank god it’s you and not your brother or sister,” she’d bellowed into Casey’s ear. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with your mother. If I hadn’t popped her out myself, I’d wonder if she was adopted. Woman’s boring as all hell, marries a man boring as all hell, and has two kids who are boring as all hell. When you came along, I thought, ‘Finally, someone like me.’ If I didn’t know for a fact that your mother gave birth to you, I’d wonder if you were adopted.” And then she’d patted Casey’s back while Casey had a little cry on her shoulder.

  “So that’s the story.” Casey swallowed. “I want to make this PI thing work. Not to win my parents’ approval.” That was a lost cause. No, she wanted to do it for herself and Gran, who hadn’t blinked when Casey had said she’d quit her job when she got her licence. “Don’t worry about your share of the rent for a while,” Gran had simply said, referring to Casey’s meagre contribution. She couldn’t let Gran down. She’d give it her all, and if it didn’t work out, she’d knock on every store manager’s door until someone gave her a job. Whatever her parents thought of her, she wasn’t a freeloader. “I want to make it work because it’s what I want. It’s also why sitting here is the closest I’ll ever get to university.” Might as well make it clear now that whenever she was asked what level of education she’d attained, she’d check the box next to High School for the rest of her life.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe you’ll visit my closet—otherwise known as my office.” Emily sipped her iced tea. “How did your mother feel about your grandmother taking you in?”

  “She said it was typical.” Among other things, such as Gran was half the problem, and Gran didn’t value higher education. Bullshit. Gran and Granddad had remortgaged their freaking house to put Mom through university. And what had they gained for their trouble? A daughter who looked down her nose at them. Why couldn’t Mom understand that not everyone wanted the same things from life? “They talk, but I wouldn’t call them close.”

  “I wonder how your parents would view my father.” Emily quirked a brow. “He didn
’t graduate from high school, but he has a sharp mind for business. Bought his first franchise when he was twenty-five, using a loan from his parents and money he’d scraped together working two jobs and doing whatever anybody wanted doing—mowing lawns, fixing leaky faucets, shovelling snow. You name it, he did it. Now he owns his own chain of coffee shops, and all sorts of people come to him for business advice. I have a lot of respect for him.”

  Casey silently thanked her. Maybe there was hope for them, after all. “I assume he didn’t kick you out because you wanted to go to university.”

  Emily laughed; her flushed cheeks and bright brown eyes set Casey’s heart racing. “No, he didn’t. Even if he’d wanted to, my mother wouldn’t have let him.”

  Casey envied her. She would have settled for having one parent on her side. “You moved out to be closer to school.”

  Emily’s face slackened. “Sort of.” Her eyes avoided Casey’s.

  Amazing, how someone could go from appearing carefree to uncomfortable within a second. “Do your parents know you’re gay?” Casey asked, wondering if Emily was hiding it from them, or they’d found out and life at home had become difficult.

  “Oh yeah, and they’re totally okay with it. Moving out had nothing to do with them.” Emily folded her arms and leaned forward to rest them on the table. “I’m being completely unfair. You told me your moving out story, and now I’m hesitating to tell you mine.” She sighed. “The thing is, your story made it clear that you knew what you wanted, or didn’t want, and despite all the pressure, you stuck to your guns. That’s admirable. Mine will just make me look stupid.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Casey said, dying of curiosity.

  “Trust me, it’s that bad.”

  She wanted to reach out and squeeze Emily’s arm, but settled for squeezing the napkin instead. What could it be? A woman. “Did you move in with someone?”