He could read her confusion, although she hid it quickly.
“We’ve had a breakthrough in the Dunham case, and I came to see if anyone here has remembered anything that might help us continue the investigation.”
She nodded gravely, her eyes never leaving his. It was unnerving, and he took out his notebook as a diversion.
“I heard about Nick’s car on the late news last night,” she said. “The reporters said there was no trace of him, though.”
“That’s right. The keys were in the ignition, but … no driver.”
“Poor Mrs. Dunham.” Her stricken look and gentle tones told him her compassion was genuine. “Mr. Owen thinks it was an accident.”
“That’s unlikely. All the doors were firmly closed. The car went in the water not far above the dam. A sober person wouldn’t be likely to have a daylight accident there, and a drunk wouldn’t have gotten out.”
“Strange, his disappearing in the middle of the day like that,” she mused. “As you say, if it were night, or if he were drunk …”
“I take it he was sober when you spoke to him that morning.”
“Absolutely. He wouldn’t drink on the job.”
“How about off the job?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t see each other outside the office.”
He nodded. “So, what about the other partners? What’s Ron Channing’s theory?”
She cocked her head slightly. “Mr. Channing isn’t given to voicing his opinions in public. All I’ve heard him say is, this is an unfortunate occurrence, and we must carry on, that sort of thing.”
“And Rainey?”
She shrugged. “He’s funny.”
“How?” She hesitated, and Harvey scanned the notes he’d made earlier. “Let’s see, he’s divorced. And he’s quite good looking. Does he have a social life?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Don’t the girls in the office speculate?”
“Well, there aren’t that many unattached women here. Jane used to drool over him, but I think even she gave up.”
“Why?”
“I think he’s compulsive or something. He never looks at you when he talks to you, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear the same necktie twice. He’s intelligent, but … well, he’s odd.”
“It’s been two months. Is Dunham’s desk still empty?”
There was a speck of surprise in her eyes. “No. They let John Macomber move into Nick’s cubicle a couple of weeks ago.”
“Did Macomber ask for it?”
“I don’t know. But we all expected Nick to come back, you know? Nobody wanted to clean out his desk and say that he wouldn’t. But that seems less likely every day, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“John was packing Nick’s things into a carton one day, and he said Mr. Owen had told him he could have that spot if he wanted it.”
Harvey reached inside his jacket and held out a business card. “Look, my office and cell phone numbers are on here. Will you call me if you think of anything that might help us?”
“Of course.”
The rumble of deep voices reached them through the open doorway.
“Sounds like the meeting’s over.” Jennifer glanced toward the door and slipped the card into her pocket. “Do you want me to take you to the partners now?”
“In a minute.” He sat still until she met his eyes again, returning the look placidly for a moment, then looking away suddenly with a slight intake of breath.
“Was there something else, Mr. Larson?”
“Yes. I’d like to talk to you some more. Would it be possible for you to eat lunch with me?”
Her surprise came closer to shock now, almost panic. It was a bit of a shock to him, too. His reticent side had been betting he wouldn’t have the nerve.
“You mean about Nick? Because I really don’t know anything I haven’t already told you.”
“No.” He swallowed. “I mean I’d like to get to know you. Personally.”
There. It couldn’t get any plainer.
As she surveyed him speculatively, he wished that he’d sent Arnie Fowler over to speak to the Coastal partners and gone to chase the drug dealers in his place. Arnie was in charge of that investigation now, and Mike had authorized having two uniformed officers help, freeing Harvey to make the rounds to Lisa Dunham and her husband’s employers.
But asking young women for dates wasn’t part of the plan. The silence hung between them too long, and he knew it was a mistake. How could he be so foolish as to imagine a gorgeous woman half his age would go out with him? Time to apologize and retreat, if he could figure out how to phrase it.
“I can’t today,” she said.
His heart skipped a beat. Was she trying to turn him down without insulting him? Some pert graduate student in psychology had probably written a book on how to turn down middle-aged men without permanently damaging their egos, but obviously Jennifer Wainthrop hadn’t read it yet. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Something like regret crossed her face. “I promised my friend, Jane—”
Why couldn’t she just leave it at that? He forced himself to smile. “It’s all right, really. I shouldn’t have—”
“Tomorrow?” It was tiny, almost inaudible, and she looked terrified.
“Did you—did you say tomorrow? You mean, lunch tomorrow?”
“I’d love to.”
The relief was overwhelming. He laughed, and she smiled, too. Her gray eyes were clear, and the struggle was gone.
Chapter 5
“I don’t understand why they took his car clear to Augusta.” Bart Owen tugged at his necktie and fidgeted as Harvey doled out the basic facts of the recovery of Nick Dunham’s car. Ron Channing sat still, watching Harvey without blinking, his dark eyes narrowed. Jack Rainey fiddled constantly with his key ring, never meeting Harvey’s eyes.
“The car was found outside the city limits, so the State Police took over.” Harvey tried to be patient, but he was still simmering from his confrontation on the riverbank with the trooper in charge.
“But you’re the investigating officer,” Owen said uncertainly.
“In the missing persons case, yes,” Harvey agreed. “But since we can’t prove a crime was committed, they don’t have a compelling reason to hand us the car. Oh, they’ll share information with us,” he said hastily.
Channing’s eyes darkened. “But you wish you had that Toyota.”
Harvey didn’t bother to reply.
“So, what does this mean?” Owen sputtered. “Is Nick Dunham dead or alive?”
Channing leaned forward, his lips tight. “It means it wasn’t accidental, Bart. Either Nick’s skipped on us and Lisa, or someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to get him out of the way.”
Bart Owen looked at Channing, then back at Harvey. “You’ve been to see Lisa?”
“Yes,” Harvey said. “I went last night, as soon as we knew for sure the car was empty.”
“Is she all right?” Owen’s forehead creased as he leaned back in his padded chair.
“She took it quite hard.” No sense telling these two that Mrs. Dunham had gone hysterical on him, and Harvey had comforted her as best he could while her ten-year-old son telephoned his grandmother.
He’d been there nearly an hour with her, until Nick Dunham’s parents arrived. It was the little girl’s wracking sobs and the boy’s stoicism that had gotten to him, more than Lisa Dunham’s weeping. Young Justin had stared at him with unspoken accusations, as if it were Detective Larson’s fault his father’s car had been found abandoned in the river, and his father was still missing. Detectives were supposed to find clues, weren’t they? Then why wasn’t he out there finding some, instead of bringing them news that was worse than nothing at all?
“We’ll have to call on her tonight.” Owen turned wearily to Channing. “Can you go over with me, Ron, when we close?”
“Can’t see the need.”
“Come now, it’s a
matter of courtesy.” Owen seemed mildly scandalized that his partner could not see his duty, but Harvey knew from Channing’s unyielding demeanor that he had no intention of going.
“I’ll go with you, Bart,” Rainey said. He shoved the key ring into his pocket. “We’ll have to do something for her if Nick doesn’t turn up soon.”
“We’ve let her draw Nick’s paycheck the last eight weeks,” Owen said uneasily. “I’m not sure how long we can continue that.”
“It’s gone on long enough.” Channing stood up. “You two can go see her if you want, but don’t promise her any settlement. It’s not our fault he decided to abandon his family.”
“You don’t think—” Owen broke off and rubbed his temple.
“You’re certain the company isn’t missing any assets?” Harvey had asked that question the first day of the investigation, but they’d had more time to take stock now.
“No, nothing’s missing.” Rainey turned and looked out the window.
“Well, I’ll leave you gentlemen.” Harvey slipped into the hallway and glanced at his watch. It was past noon. He paused in the doorway to the workroom, but most of the stations were vacant, including Jennifer’s. He was slightly disappointed, but nothing could dull the elation he’d banked carefully before meeting with the partners.
Tomorrow. It was almost within reach.
*****
The Priority Unit office was empty when he reached it, except for the secretary. Harvey turned on his computer and went looking for information. He kept the flickers of guilt at bay by reasoning that he needed to know what he’d gotten himself into.
Jennifer’s birth record was easy to locate, with the access his official software gave him. It told him she was born in Skowhegan, the daughter of George and Marilyn Wainthrop. He’d been sixteen when she was born. He almost gave up when he’d done the calculation, but Grandma Lewis’s words echoed through his mind. She’s the kind of girl you should have married in the first place.
He did a quick check on her father and found he was solvent, a 55-year-old executive for an agricultural products company. He found birth records for five other children of the same parents, a larger family than most these days.
He tried to imagine Jennifer as a little blonde girl with pigtails, surrounded by her siblings. Jeffrey was the oldest, then came Jennifer, Abigail, Leeanne, Travis and Randall. The youngest was only fifteen, a sophomore in high school. Harvey felt ancient.
Mike breezed in from the stairway, swinging his briefcase. “Whatcha doing, Harv?”
“Background check.”
“Anything new on the Dunham case?”
“Not really. I saw Mrs. Dunham and the business partners. I’m just waiting on word on the car from Augusta.”
Mike frowned. “We shoulda had that car.”
Harvey shrugged. He’d fought that battle yesterday and lost. “You need me now?”
“No, but when the boys get back from lunch, they might need your help on their case.”
“I’ll be here.”
Harvey moved on to her credit record. She’d had a car loan on a six-year-old Ford Escort, a reliable, inexpensive car with no character. She’d finished the payments on time a year ago. Her father probably picked it out for her when she was in college. She had one credit card, showing moderate activity.
Coastal Technology’s personnel records were his next target. The firm had a state-of-the-art electronic security system, but with a password-breaking program and some finesse, he had access within minutes. The records were a gold mine. Jennifer had a contract for five percent of the profits from any software she created there, and so far she had created or worked extensively on seven programs. Her performance reviews were cautiously positive—the best one could expect, he figured.
She was a University of Maine graduate, and he went after her transcript. Good grades, computer major, philosophy minor. That surprised him. And she played varsity softball in college. He could see her swinging a bat. She also appeared in a student production of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream her junior year.
He glanced around the room. No sign of Eddie and the others yet. He checked his stocks. They were holding steady. The pharmaceutical company he was watching as a potential investment was up two points.
The stairway door opened.
“Harv! Am I glad to see you.” Eddie dragged his chair over near Harvey’s desk and peeled off his jacket. “We’ve got interviews scheduled for most of the afternoon. Can you help us out?”
“Sure. What have you got?”
Eddie’s tie followed the jacket into a heap on the floor. “Well, that girl who was caught with the cocaine isn’t in school today.”
“What do you mean, she isn’t in school? Is she sick?”
“I dunno. She just wasn’t there.”
Harvey scowled, and Eddie’s eyes widened.
“Guess I should have checked, huh?”
“Let’s go.” Harvey stood and reached for his tweed jacket, and Eddie picked up his coat and necktie. He shrugged into the jacket and stuffed the tie in the pocket. Harvey shook his head.
“What?” Eddie asked.
“Nothing. Where are Pete and Arnie?”
“They’re checking out some leads. Two patrolmen went with them. Nate Miller and Jimmy Cook.”
“Ride with me and fill me in,” Harvey growled as they headed for the stairway.
*****
“Opposites attract.” Jane Morrow smiled at Jennifer over the rim of her paper cup. They were eating lunch together at a sandwich shop two blocks from Coastal.
Jennifer considered ignoring the cryptic remark, but she knew exactly where Jane was headed. “As in you and Brent?”
Jane laughed. “Brent and I are very much alike. You and the dashing detective, however …”
“I wouldn’t call him dashing.”
“What would you call him?”
Jane’s eagerness made Jennifer wary. Her instinct was to keep quiet about the lunch date she had made for tomorrow. She didn’t want all the women in the office discussing it before she had a chance to decide whether she liked Harvey Larson. She chewed a bite of her sandwich slowly then leaned across the table with a question of her own. “Are you still working with Herr Enberg?”
Jane frowned. “No, he’s gone back to Berlin. And you were right. He’s married.”
“I never said he was married. I just asked.”
“Well, I asked him if he had a family in Germany, and he does.” Jane shrugged. “I’m not complaining. Brent and I are getting very cozy.”
Jennifer nodded. She didn’t really want to hear the details, but at least she had thrown Jane off the track of Detective Larson.
*****
Ron Channing carefully arranged the pages of a software proposal in sequence and slipped them into a file folder. The secretary could do it, but he liked to go over these things himself before presenting them to a new client. Twenty minutes until his appointment. As he reached for the flash drive that contained the program prototype, the door to his office whooshed open, sending a surge of wind across the room.
“Jack, what’s up?” Channing anchored the papers on his desk with one hand as Rainey closed the door and faced him, his brow creased in annoyance.
“We’ve had a security breach.”
“Really?” Channing was mildly surprised. They spent a great deal of time putting security measures in place at Coastal, but rarely had to use them.
“Someone’s tapped into our company files.”
“What, online?”
“That’s right. Henderson told me. I’m working on it personally.”
Channing laid the flash drive on top of the folder. “Have you traced it back?”
“We’re working on it. I figured you’d want to know right away.”
Channing swore. Rainey strode to the window and looked out at the traffic. “I’ve got a hunch it was Myer Digital. They’ve been selling knockoffs of our most popular programs for two year
s.”
“But we’ve never caught them actually stealing the ideas,” Channing said. “They usually wait until the program’s on the market, then come out with a cheaper, no-frills version.”
“We’ll get them this time. I had Nick Dunham insert new cross checks into the system three months ago.”
“I remember.”
Rainey turned to face him. “Unless I’m mistaken, we’ll be able to tell where this breach originated.”
Channing nodded. “Too bad we’ve lost Dunham. He was the best we had.”
Rainey shrugged. “Jennifer Wainthrop’s just as good, although she’s not as aggressive.”
“She’s clever.”
Rainey smiled faintly. “Yes, she is that. We’ll have to make sure nothing happens to Miss Wainthrop.”
Channing stood up and slid the file and flash drive into his briefcase. “Have you told Bart about this latest development?”
“No. Guess I’d better.”
“Could be it’s some kid just trying to see if he can access private data for kicks.”
Rainey frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, we’ll wait and see what the tracer shows. Better not let Henderson know too much. Loose lips and all that.”
Rainey spread his hands. “That’s why I’m working on it personally, Ron.”
*****
Harvey was nervous as his date with Jennifer drew closer. He made himself concentrate on the drug case at the high school, but it was hard keeping his mind on it. A guidance counselor’s tiny office had been loaned to them for interviews. He finished questioning a student and let her go back to class. Half an hour to go.
“Harv, you got a date or something?”
Eddie peered at him, and Harvey realized he had checked his watch about twenty times in the last hour. He took a deep breath. “Actually, yes.”
“Bien.” None of the shock Harvey had expected showed in his partner’s face.
“I need to speak to that girl whose mother found the coke in her room. Tonya Breton.”
“She’s not here.”
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 6
