Another knock on the door and Matthew stuck his head in the room. "Would you mind if my wife and I came in together?"
I glanced at Kate. "Your call, Doc."
"That would be fine, Mr. Richter." She smiled at him, probably hoping to show me how to get on the right side of folks.
He widened the door and he and Piper came in hand in hand. Since we had not spoken to these two at all, even at dinner, I had no clue what to expect.
Matthew hurried to bring over another chair to face us and waited until his wife sat down before he took his seat. He said, "Before you start asking questions, you should know that Piper has been so busy in the last year with the whole wedding thing that she hardly knows JoLynn."
I looked at the bride. "But you've had several months since the wedding, right?"
Piper's thin face colored. "I have my own circle of friends and besides, she didn't seem to show any interest in getting to know me."
Indeed, the world obviously revolved around Piper. I said, "No one seems to have taken time to get to know JoLynn." I shifted to Matthew. "Tell me you're different."
"Different how?" He was deflecting the question, maybe hoping to figure out what we wanted from him.
"Did you welcome her into the family?" I said.
"Certainly. But we were busy planning a wedding around the time she showed up. Besides, I had to adjust to becoming her uncle. I knew next to nothing about my sister, Katarina—we were so many years apart. I only knew she was some kind of saint. The way my father reacted to JoLynn's arrival? Well, it was as if my sister had risen from the dead."
Now we were getting somewhere. "Katarina was his favorite?"
"What does Matthew's childhood have to do with this?" Piper gripped her husband's hand tighter.
I wanted to come back with something a lawyer might say, like "It goes to motive, ma'am," but Kate saved me by addressing Piper.
"You're the newest member of the family. What's your take on JoLynn's relationship to everyone?"
"My father-in-law kept her as isolated from the rest of us as possible," she said. "He's a very complex man whom we all adore. But sometimes we simply do not understand him."
"Why do you think he kept her isolated?" I said. This wasn't the first time we'd heard this tonight.
But Matthew cut in before his wife could respond. "Ask my father. That's about him and JoLynn, not us."
"Sorry if we've upset you, Matthew," Kate said in her soothing therapist tone.
"He's not upset," Piper said. "Matt is the calmest person I know."
"Okay," I said. "So you don't think your father is playing favorites again?"
"You're here to find out who harmed JoLynn, right?" Matthew said.
"In part," I said, "but my real job—"
"If you're implying I tried to kill JoLynn so I could have Dad all to myself, that's plain stupid. If you haven't noticed, I'm a grown man, not an adolescent."
I nodded. "And no one in this family could be accused of adolescent behavior."
"I don't appreciate your attitude," he said.
"And neither do I," the Piper piped in.
"Let me give this to you straight," I said. "Chief Boyd is investigating a murder attempt on someone who lived in this house. I'm here because your father wants to find out exactly what happened and why. JoLynn could have mentioned things in passing to family members that might help me get to the bottom of this. I'm merely trying to gather information tonight, not to accuse anyone of anything. But the bunch of you make me feel like I'm riding circles around a swamp. What's in that swamp, Matthew?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He studied his diamond-encrusted watch.
"Right. Guess I'll have to tell your father none of you were much help."
He looked up quickly. "I don't know anything about JoLynn. What I do know is that my father is an idiot. And you can tell him I said that."
"An idiot when it came to JoLynn?" Kate asked.
"Yes." Matthew Richter rested back in the chair and sighed in frustration. "He's a meticulous man. He does extensive background checks on everyone he hires, but he lets her take over his life without even knowing her last known address."
"How do you know he didn't research her past?" I asked.
"Because if he had, he would have discovered what I did. That she doesn't seem to have existed before she showed up here. Does that tell you something?"
Piper's eyes were wide when she turned to her husband. "I thought we weren't going to talk about that, baby."
Finally something. I said, "Did you hire someone to check her out?"
"I was worried about my father, that's all," he said.
"I take it that's a yes?"
He drew a deep breath and said, "Okay, yes. Are you happy? Can we leave now?"
"Who did you hire?" I said.
"That's none of your business," Piper said.
But I could tell Matthew's wheels were turning. He knew I reported to the man with the money.
"I hired an investigator named Rocco Green. He told me there was no record of any driver's license for JoLynn Richter and no vehicle was ever registered in her name. I wasn't sure what to do after learning that," he said.
"Did you tell your father?" Kate asked.
"Yes," he answered. "He said I should stay out of his business. Obviously he didn't care because that was six months ago and she's still here. Or . . . was here."
And you're hoping she won't come back, I thought. "Did this detective learn anything else during his background check?"
"No. He said I'd need her Social Security number if I really wanted to find out about her, and well, I couldn't give him that."
His eyes drifted away from mine and Piper wasn't looking at me, either.
"Because you couldn't find her Social Security number?" But I knew the answer. The tips of his ears were bright red and Piper had taken a keen interest in her fingernails.
"You're making a lot of insinuations," Piper said, still not making eye contact.
"You searched her room, right?" I said to Matthew. Then I looked at Piper. "And maybe you helped."
Matt's flush deepened and Piper smoothed a strand of hair away from her face.
"No need to say more," I said. "You've both been a big help."
* * *
Kate and I left Magnolia Ranch for Houston after ten p.m.—which was late for Kate, but she wasn't complaining. She seemed more like her old self than I'd seen in months. I told Elliott Richter I'd use what information I'd gotten from the family to help research JoLynn's past. He'd pressed me for specifics, but I said I needed to sort through what we'd learned first. He hadn't been exactly forthcoming with me about JoLynn from what Matthew said, and before I reported on those interviews, I wanted to calm down, maybe understand why.
"That was an interesting evening," Kate said once we reached the main highway. "Why do you think Richter didn't tell you what Matthew learned?"
"I don't know. Maybe he wanted me to find out for myself—he is paying me a lot of money, after all. But oh boy, Aunt Caroline would have loved every minute of tonight." I steadied the steering wheel with my left hand and reached into my right pocket. "By the way, I forgot to turn that clock back on. But let's see what's written on this." I handed over the folded paper.
Kate turned on the map light. "Could be some old note that came with the clock. Who knows? Maybe we'll end up on Antiques Roadshow showing off something Washington wrote to Jefferson."
"You watch Antiques Roadshow?" I said.
"Well, yeah. Lately."
"Dreamer," I said. "There's nothing old about that paper. Looked brand-new to me."
"You're right," Kate said. "This is a Xerox copy of a newspaper article. The print is small and all I can make out is the headline. 'Mysterious Katarina Richter Succumbs to Cancer.' "
I nearly swerved off the road. "You're kidding. That's the same article I found online. The one that talks about Katarina's disappearance and how at first they thought she'd b
een kidnapped. Do me a favor? There's a plastic grocery bag in the backseat. Could you put that paper in there? Cooper Boyd has JoLynn's prints and I'd like to see if she handled this paper."
"You think she put it under the clock?" Kate said.
"I have no idea. Could be something Richter saved. But JoLynn spent time in that library, according to both Leopold Hunt and Richter himself. If this article meant something to her and if she had a clue that people were searching through her things—which of course they were—she might have hidden it."
"What does the article say?" Kate asked.
For the rest of the trip home, I filled her in on my Internet research into the Richters, Katarina and missing persons. Then we discussed the bigger picture the Richter family had presented—their lack of concern about JoLynn's welfare, the threat she represented and, beneath it all, what I had felt and Kate confirmed: smoldering hostility.
14
Diva and I lay in bed past our usual time to get up on Wednesday morning. While she purred next to me, I thought about the case. Each family member offered me something different to consider.
Matthew's discovery that JoLynn's license was a fake made me wonder why no one in the family came right out and said JoLynn might be faking other things—like why she made her entrance into their lives. So what made Elliott Richter so trusting? Did he need the closeness and affection their relationship seemed to provide? Something that simple might be the answer.
As I stroked Diva, she turned on her back and stretched out, her purrs almost as loud as that dumb clock last night. Now in possession of a photo of JoLynn, I could return to my missing-persons Internet search with a better idea of what she looked like. Though she was using an invalid driver's license, she did have a name, though perhaps not JoLynn Richter. The birth certificate could have been fake, too. But maybe her story wasn't. Maybe JoLynn was put up for adoption— but never found a home as a child. I reached for my phone on the bedside table. Penny Flannery, here I come with more questions.
I got Penny's voice mail and left a message for her to call me when she was free. She didn't phone back until after I'd done forty minutes on my new elliptical trainer. I bought the contraption after deciding to give up running in Houston's summer heat. It was just too draining, not to mention very bad for the skin. I have nice skin, one of my decent features, and was discovering that ugly red bumps erupted after every outdoor run.
While I'd exercised, Diva watched me huff and sweat with great interest and seemed to be smiling slyly and maybe thinking, When will she figure out she's not getting anywhere? I just finished and was about ready to shower when Penny called back.
"Same problem case?" she asked.
"Yup. Question: You put up pictures of foster kids on a Web site, right?"
"Sure. First names and case numbers only," she answered.
"And I'll bet like all things on the Internet, those pictures are available for eternity, even if they've been removed from the site."
"I—I guess so. I'm sure someone has those files on their computer, maybe in Austin, maybe in Houston." She paused. "And that's what you want me to do? Find an old photo array that might have your girl's face?"
"Can you do that for me?" I asked.
"I can, but I don't know how long it will take."
"I know you're busy and I'm sorry, but—"
"This is no problem, Abby. You've done so much for the foster kids, we'll help any way we can. I don't have any dealings with our Web site people, that's all. But I promise I will find someone in the know as soon as I can. What years are we looking at?"
"If she was in the system, she would have aged out about five years ago max."
"To be safe, I'll get as many files as I can," she said.
"Great. In the meantime, I'll keep checking missing-persons databases. I have a photograph now, which will help. You're the best, Penny. I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything," she said.
An hour later, fresh from the shower, I sat down at my computer with my coffee and a day-old bagel that turned out to be as hard as a frozen turtle shell. I gave up after two attempts to bite into it and concentrated on the work instead.
I tried the HPD missing-persons site first and discovered there were very few photos. It seemed to be geared more to giving information on whom to contact to file a missing-person's report. I sat back. Maybe Jeff could make this chore a whole lot easier.
I picked up the phone again and punched his speed dial number. Lucky for me, he actually answered with, "Hey, you. You're the kind of distraction I can use."
"Because you're dealing with something gruesome right now?"
"About as gruesome as it gets. Court. I'm outside and don't plan to go in until the last possible minute."
"You don't care if you're sweating like a penguin on the equator when you have to testify?"
"Couldn't care less. What do you need, hon?"
"A little help. I've already made one swipe at missing-persons databases on the Internet and it's a little overwhelming. Do you know anyone in the missing-persons division who could help me?"
Jeff laughed. "You gotta be kidding. Do you know how many people are reported missing in Houston in a year?"
"I have no idea."
"Try seven thousand. And with only nine investigators to handle the load."
"Shut up. I had no idea. Guess I need to handle this myself."
"That would be wise," he said. "How's your aunt, by the way?"
"Shoot. I need to call her. I've gotten so wrapped up in this case, I've been ignoring my obligation to be nice to her while she tells me how the cow ate the cabbage."
Jeff laughed again. "I was thinking about asking Loreen to stay late tonight with Doris so you and I can spend some alone time. That sound good?"
I smiled. "Sounds better than good. Now I'm the one who'll be distracted all day. I'll see you later, then."
"Bye, hon." He disconnected.
I sighed. Alone time. And he would arrange it. God, I loved that guy.
I got busy on my computer, the conversation with Jeff making me feel upbeat and the recent picture of JoLynn making me feel a tiny bit more optimistic about my chances of finding out if anyone reported her missing.
But my optimism was about used up by two that afternoon. The bagel had been replaced by a ham sandwich I didn't even remember making, the coffee by two Dr Peppers. I was beginning to believe way too many people in this country had been kidnapped, been run off by their families or died without anyone finding their bodies. The saddest part was that many of the faces I kept seeing were of missing children. Most of them were probably parental abductions, but that didn't make me feel any better. Those kids were lost to someone who loved them dearly, someone who probably waited every day for a phone call that might never come.
Some of the databases allowed me to narrow my search; some of them didn't. I checked all the bigger sites in Texas first, but I couldn't exclude any state in the Union. Though JoLynn sounded like she was from Texas, according to Adele, that didn't mean JoLynn hadn't moved around and been reported missing from someplace other than here.
I took a Snickers from my desk drawer stash, opened the wrapper and enjoyed a taste of comfort as I pulled up what had to be my hundredth missing-persons site, an obscure one put together by a Houston group called "Friends of the Lost." Sounds like a cult, I thought. No wonder it didn't come up right away. Thank goodness the site was blessedly easy to navigate and allowed me to narrow the search by entering fields like age, ethnicity and hair color.
I'd just loaded JoLynn's data when the phone rang. I picked up and said hello, my eyes on the newest rows of faces.
"It's Penny. Sorry it took me so long, but it was a struggle finding out who takes care of our archived pictures. I'm sending you an e-mail now with a zip file. All the Web photos of adoptable foster kids from 1995 to 2005."
But I didn't reply, instead focusing hard on the current photo display.
"Abby? You there?"
"Damn right I do. Good luck." She hung up.
I fumbled to find the recharging stand for the receiver, unwilling to take my eyes off the screen. I held the photo Elliott Richter had given me next to the unfocused face on the monitor.
The computer copy was poor quality and another woman had obviously been cropped out of the picture. I could see a shoulder and a dark-skinned feminine hand holding fast to the blonde's upper arm. The blonde had to be JoLynn. Same jawline, same tilt of the head. But though I believed I had finally found her, the caption under the picture did not say "JoLynn Richter."
This young woman's name was Elizabeth Dugan. She disappeared from Houston over a year ago and was listed as "missing from home." Her height, weight and gender matched what I knew, but there was little else. Maybe I was wrong—maybe this wasn't JoLynn.
I sat back and squinted at the photo and still found the similarities too close to be ignored. Though some of the pictures had case numbers and police contacts listed beneath them, this particular picture gave only an email address.
I jotted it down but decided to try something else first. I typed "Elizabeth Dugan" into Google and the only promising hit led me to a missing-persons message board. The same e-mail address was attached to a message that read,
No one seems to think Elizabeth is really missing, especially since her husband reported to the police that she left on her own after an argument. She wouldn't do that without talking to me. She is 5 feet 4 inches, 105 pounds, blond hair and blue eyes, twenty years old. You can see her picture on the Friends of the Lost Web site. E-mail me if you have any information. My name is Roberta Messing.
A husband? A different name? A friend or relative who was worried about her? Would this be a break in the case that might also break Elliott Richter's heart? I sent out an e-mail to Roberta Messing with trembling fingers.
15
I waited at my desk fifteen minutes for a return e-mail from Roberta Messing, but like my daddy always told me, I was never burdened with patience. When I started in on my fingernails rather than adding more chocolate calories, I knew I couldn't sit around hoping to see a pop-up on the monitor informing me of new mail.
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