No Trace

by Brenda Chapman

  “Oh, different places. The last posting was in Paris.” She waved a hand in the air. “I became ill and we decided to come back to Canada. I wish now that we hadn’t.”

  “Could Ryan have gone back to Paris or one of the other places you lived?”

  “Not without his passport. It’s in our safe.” She stood up and glanced toward the hallway. “Would you like to see his room?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She led me upstairs to a bedroom at the end of the hall. It was a large, square-shaped room with a queen-size bed and a desk under the window. Posters of soccer players filled one wall and a collection of model airplanes sat on top of a dresser next to the closet. I carefully searched through Ryan’s clothes and books, but I didn’t find anything helpful. I hadn’t thought that I would. Jimmy and his team would have already been through the room with a fine-toothed comb.

  Vanda had left me alone in the bedroom and gone back down to the kitchen. She met me at the bottom of the stairs, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Did you find anything?” she asked.

  “No, but don’t give up hope. I won’t stop until we find Ryan.”

  “That’s the same thing the police said.” She opened the front door and waited for me to step past her. “I’m beginning to wonder if my son even wants to be found. Because the idea that someone is keeping him from coming home is more than I can bear. You will let me know if you find anything new?”

  “You can count on it,” I said.

  I was more determined than ever to find out what happened to her son. Because nobody deserved to live with the pain that I saw in her eyes.

  . . .

  I called Dad as soon as I got inside my car. He answered on the third ring with a gruff hello. “Do you have time to do some research for me, Dad?”

  His voice lightened. “Of course. What have you got?”

  “Chuck Green, Ryan’s dad, is in the Department of National Defence, where I know you still have contacts. I need to know more about what he does for a living. He lived overseas for a number of years and moved around a lot. I’m wondering if something in his past could be a factor. I’ll send you a text with their address details so you have something to start with.”

  “Mission accepted. I’m on it. Dinner might be a little late.”

  “Me too, so that works.”

  I hung up and checked my watch. I wasn’t that far from the Bella Vista Restaurant. I had time to find out why the waitress, Jeannie, had acted strangely and disappeared after I asked her about Ryan. I didn’t like loose ends and she felt like a long, dangly one.

  CHAPTER NINE

  As it turned out, I didn’t need to speak with Jeannie after all. She wasn’t working the lunch shift but the girl who served my table was happy to talk. As she set a cup of coffee in front of me, I asked, “How long have you worked here?”

  She paused and appeared to be counting in her head. “I had my son three years ago and started here the year after that. So two years. Wow, time flies.”

  “Good place to work?”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m starting to get better shifts.”

  I read her name tag. “Tara, did you know that high school kid, Ryan Green, who went missing six months ago?”

  I could tell that I’d caught her by surprise. She looked toward the kitchen and back at me. “Yeah, he used to come in for a burger before his shift.” She started to turn.

  “Did he always come in alone?” I picked up my coffee cup and took a sip while I watched her.

  She turned back. “Why are you asking?”

  “I know his family. They’re devastated, not knowing what happened to him.”

  “Yeah, I get it. If something happened to my kid . . .” She took a step closer. “The last two times I saw him, he met a girl. They took the booth over there in the corner.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Pretty. Long, dark hair and green eyes, but I can go one better. I know her name.” Someone came out of the kitchen and she stopped talking.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  Tara shook her head, but said, “Jeannie told me to mind my own business if I want to keep my job. So maybe I should listen to her. Forget I said anything.”

  I had my cellphone out before she made it over to the next table. I looked out the window and said, “Dad, I need you to track down one more person.”

  . . .

  Carleton University was on the opposite side of the canal to the Green home and west of Bronson Avenue. I took the long curving road into the campus and found a parking spot in the first big lot.

  With the change in the weather, I didn’t mind the walk across campus. A path led me past student dorms and buildings where classes were held. I entered a central bricked courtyard with the library directly ahead. Students criss-crossed my path but nobody was in a hurry. It was as if we all wanted to stay in the sunshine as long as possible.

  When I reached the main entrance to the library, I sent a text message. A few minutes later, Maggie Montana joined me on the steps. She was wearing a red leather jacket and carried a binder and a text book. She’d dyed her long hair white and added a purple streak down one side. But her eyes, the same unusual colour as her dad Bobby’s, were still green.

  “Thanks for meeting me on short notice,” I said. “Has anybody told you that you look a lot like your dad?”

  “All the time, although his hair is still black.” She smiled and I could see why Ryan would have fallen for her. “We can get a coffee if you like.”

  “Perfect.”

  We found seats in the cafeteria that were away from the other students. “What are you studying?” I asked to put her at ease.

  “History and English. I’m thinking about taking a law degree.” Her eyes were puzzled. “Why did you want to see me? The man who called told me this was about my program.”

  Dad. “I’m sorry if the message got mixed up. I’m actually trying to track down Ryan Green and somebody told me that you were dating him.” I didn’t expect the flash of anger that crossed her face. “Does his name upset you?” I added.

  “You might say. I thought we had something good going on. Then he quit working for my dad and never called me again.” She snapped her fingers. “Dropped me like that.”

  I tried to see if she believed what she’d just said. “You do know he’s missing?”

  She stared at me and blinked. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “Gone. As in nobody knows where he is.”

  “Since when?” Her voice was less certain.

  “He was last seen leaving school on Wednesday, May 30, and hasn’t been seen since.”

  She covered her mouth with her hands and closed her eyes. After several seconds she dropped her hands and looked at me. “I had no idea. My father . . . nobody knew we were seeing each other. I guess . . . Dad.” She stopped and started again. “My father was mad that Ryan quit work without giving any notice. He wouldn’t have known it mattered to me if he found out that Ryan had disappeared.

  “It was in the news toward the end of June. Everyone at Brookfield High School was talking about it.”

  “I didn’t go to Brookfield, and I went to stay with my mother in Boston for the summer. I left right after exams because it was the only time Dad had to drive me. He took me out of school a week early.”

  “Why did you keep your relationship with Ryan a secret?”

  “Ryan worked for my dad. It was . . . awkward.”

  “Did you see Ryan after school that day?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “His soccer practice was cancelled and he had a few free hours. Are you sure he didn’t go see you?”

  She shook her head. “I need time to think. Maybe. I could call you later.” She stood and picked up her books. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  I watched her nearly run from the room as I tried to fit this latest piece into the puzzle.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Chuck Gree
n is one mysterious dude,” Dad said into my ear. “Took some digging but I got some information from an old army buddy. But we have to keep it to ourselves.”

  “Of course.” I shifted the phone to my other ear and put my feet up on my desk. I’d opened a beer when I entered the office and took a sip while I listened.

  “Chuck Green was undercover on some mighty dangerous assignments overseas. Last stint, he was spying on a terrorist cell in France.”

  “He was a government spy?”

  “Yes, and a good one, according to my friend. Does this information help you out?”

  “It might. Thanks, Dad.”

  “One more thing. Chuck’s wife had a nervous breakdown and that’s why they came back to Canada. She knew about the danger Chuck was in and the stress finally got to her. He gave up the spy business and took a desk job. I hear he misses the field work, though.”

  “Thanks again, Dad. You’ve helped answer some questions I’ve had about the Greens.”

  After Dad hung up, I sat for a few minutes and tried to work out how these latest details might be connected to Ryan’s disappearance. I picked up my phone again and called Jimmy.

  He sounded out of breath. “I was about to call you. Chuck Green was shot in a parking garage about twenty minutes ago. He’s being taken to the Civic Hospital in an ambulance as we speak. I’m on my way there now.”

  “I’m in my office so I’m not far from the hospital. I’ll meet you.” Could things get any worse?

  Ten minutes later, I was circling the hospital trying to find a parking spot. I was lucky to find one on the second go around. I met Jimmy inside the emergency waiting room. He was talking to a nurse but met my eyes as soon as I stepped through the door.

  “This shooting puts a new spin on things,” he said when he finally came over. “I don’t suppose you’ve found out anything helpful yet, PI Sweet?” The teasing in his voice made me angry. Jimmy had spent six months on the case, and clearly thought that I wasn’t going to find anything he hadn’t. If I’d been willing to share, he’d killed the mood.

  “How bad is Chuck Green?” I asked.

  “He’s unconscious. A bullet hit him in the back.”

  “Does his family know?”

  “We’re having trouble reaching his wife. His son Travis is being picked up at school by one of our officers.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t know who shot him.”

  Jimmy tilted his head toward me. “You’ve guessed right. Whoever got to him knew what they were doing. Isolated location and no witnesses. Not even a security camera. If a truck hadn’t driven into the garage when it did, the shooter might have finished Green off.”

  “This was his lucky day then . . . sort of.”

  “We did find out a bit about the body found in the bush near Carp, though.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Name was Gord Walters. He was a small-time car thief who disappeared six months ago. His roommate reported him missing. The conclusion back then was that he skipped town.”

  “So I wonder what happened to make him turn up dead.”

  “Probably owed somebody money.”

  I needed to forget Gord Walters for the moment and focus on Chuck Green. I sighed. Whatever was going on with the Green family might have to do with Chuck’s past life in the spy business. I had to put my feelings aside and share what I knew with Jimmy. I opened my mouth to tell him at the same moment that an officer arrived and dragged him away. I waited half an hour for Jimmy to return before I gave up and headed out to find my car in the parking lot.

  . . .

  “Nobody joining us?” I asked Dad as he set a plate of chicken and potatoes in front of me.

  “Cheri took Evan for pizza. I don’t know if Jimmy planned to come over.”

  “He’s not answering my texts or voice mail,” I said. I took a mouthful of chicken. “This is so good, Dad.”

  He sat down across from me and took a bite. His nose scrunched up. “Not bad, I suppose.” He reached for the pepper. “I forgot to tell you. Nick Roma called and left a message for you yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “He’s back in Vancouver after nearly a month in the mountains. He said there was no internet connection where they were filming.” Dad looked at me with a steady gaze. “He also lost his cellphone with your number saved in it, so he tried the house. He wants you to call him back at his hotel.”

  “Great. I’ll do that.” Just as soon as the moon turns blue. I lowered my head and kept eating.

  “I wondered if you read that gossip piece in the newspaper. You need to speak with Nick before you make up your mind about him.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Dad.”

  Dad grunted but didn’t say anything more about Nick for the rest of our meal.

  After I helped clean up the dishes, I sat down at my desk and typed notes into my Ryan Green file. I re-read the file from the beginning and thought about the timeline. Ryan went missing after school six months ago. I thought back to my conversation with Jimmy in the hospital waiting room. The smalltime car thief, Gord Walters, had been shot and left in the woods outside the town of Carp about the same time. Were the two events related, or not? Had Ryan somehow gotten himself mixed up in a murder?

  I sat thinking over different possibilities while staring out the window into the darkness. That’s when my cellphone rang.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I finished the call and went in search of my handgun, which I kept in a safe in my bedroom. On the way to my car, I called Jimmy again and left a message. I didn’t have enough information to raise the alarm at police headquarters, but I’d feel better with Jimmy at my side. I would have liked it even better if Jada was in town for back up.

  A cold, gusty wind made the trees sway and leaves swirl across the road. Traffic was light, as if people were snuggled inside their houses, avoiding the grim November night. Stopped at Bank Street and Hunt Club Road, I checked the directions again on my phone. I needed to cross to the other side of the Rideau River and drive quite a ways south. I turned right. Once I was over the river, I took Highway 13, which ran parallel to the Rideau. Twenty minutes later, I turned into Winding Way, a road of multi-million-dollar houses that backed onto the water.

  I drove slowly up the street, scanning the house numbers until I reached ninety-two. The Montanas owned one of the larger estates at the end of the block—they had a two-storey yellow brick house with turrets at either end, and a three-car garage. There was big money in selling cars, apparently. The house was set back from the road and a long driveway made an opening through trees and well-tended bushes. The property was nestled next to a stretch of thick woods, yet to be developed.

  The gate was open, but I parked on the street a few houses down. Something in Bobby Montana’s voice when he called half an hour earlier had sounded forced . . . as if he wasn’t talking of his own free will. The uneasy feeling I had was enough to make me bring my gun and to phone Jimmy. It was making me extra careful now.

  The main-floor lights were on. I walked toward them through the darkness, the sound of the wind hiding my approach. The living room window was to the left of the front door. I stepped off the path and dodged branches to look into the room. Carl and Bobby were sitting on the couch with their backs to me. They were looking at somebody on the other side of the room, just out of my sight line.

  I moved back from the house and speed-dialled Jimmy again. “It’s just past nine o’clock. I’m going into the Montana house. Bobby and his dad, Carl, are inside with somebody else, but I can’t see who it is through the window. Come as soon as you get this.” I repeated the address and ended the call.

  Then I pulled my gun out of its side holster and tucked it into my jacket pocket. I’d be able to draw it quickly if I needed to. I truly hoped I wouldn’t need to. My last step was to turn on the tape recorder inside my pocket. The device was strong enough to record a pin drop across the room.

  Plants and branches were movi
ng black shapes as I made my way to the front door. Dark shadows played across the glass while I waited for someone to answer the bell. After some noises and thumps inside the house, Bobby pulled the door open. My first thought was that he looked deflated—he was not the cocky man in control that I’d met at the car dealership. His eyes were sunken and he appeared to be in pain. His gelled-back hair showed off a forehead beaded in sweat.

  “Come in,” he said before turning. That’s when I noticed the blood stain spreading down the side of his pant leg, a shocking red against the pale grey fabric. He took a step and his leg buckled. I leapt forward to help him, forgetting for a moment about the danger.

  “It’s only a flesh wound,” said a female voice. “He can handle it.”

  I looked up, keeping my hold around Bobby’s waist. His daughter Maggie stood in the doorway watching us. The gun that she was holding was pointed in our direction.

  “Bring him over to the couch,” she said. “My dad has something to tell you.” Her eyes—the same eyes as Bobby’s—had no sympathy in their green depths.

  I was as surprised to see her with that gun as I’d been by anything in my life. “Maggie?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t worry, Anna.” She stopped talking until I’d eased Bobby onto the couch next to Carl. I stood next to the couch, not sure what she wanted from me.

  “I needed a witness.” She repeated, “Dad has something to tell you.”

  The two of them engaged in a staring contest for what felt like hours. Bobby finally broke and looked over at me.

  “I might have had something to do with that body you found near Carp.” He turned back to his daughter. “You aren’t really going to shoot me, Maggie, are you?”

  Her eyes were cold and very, very angry. “I will if you don’t tell us what you did to Ryan.”

  “Nothing happened to Ryan.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Her voice rose and ended in a sob. “You had him killed!”

  “No. No, I didn’t. I had no idea he was in the house that night. The two of you were sneaking around behind my back like a couple of . . .” For a split second, I saw the tough street hood in his eyes. Then he remembered that his daughter was holding the gun. He got control of his anger. “Ryan came out of the house and saw me and another guy teaching someone a lesson.”