“We can’t change her taste in men. That’s beyond both of us.”
Derrick sighed. “I know.”
We sat in his office in relative silence for the next fifteen minutes, and then he led me to the conference room. He stopped outside the door before we entered. “I wouldn’t ask any questions if I were you. We can’t afford the press conference to suddenly become about you.”
“Wait, this isn’t about you guys arresting Brian Frank? I figured things were essentially over.”
“You figured wrong,” Derrick countered.
“What? How is that possible?”
“Just go in there, take your notes, and keep your mouth shut,” Derrick warned me. “I’m telling you, now is not the time to be . . . well, you.”
I entered the conference room and scanned the crowd. All the usual characters were here – including Shelly and Devon. Shelly was busy trying to pretend she hadn’t seen me, but Devon was heading in our direction.
“Great,” Derrick muttered under his breath. “Do not pick a fight with her.”
“I won’t.” Unless she picks a fight with me first.
“What’s going on?” Devon got straight to the point.
“What do you mean?” Derrick asked evasively.
“What were you two talking about?”
“How Lexie wants to open her own yoga studio,” I replied. It’s technically the truth.
Devon looked surprised. “Didn’t she just get out of rehab?”
“Yes.”
“Does she even have any money?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a stupid idea.”
Here’s the thing, Derrick and I both thought this was a monumentally stupid idea buried in a mountain of Lexie’s other stupid ideas. It’s one thing for us to say that to each other, and quite another for someone else to say it. My family closes ranks around their own.
“That’s not really for you to say, is it?” Derrick barked.
Devon looked surprised by his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t mean to insult her.”
Derrick softened his tone. “I’m sorry. We just had a big discussion about this and I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. It will just give me a headache.”
“Or an ulcer.” What? I was trying to be helpful.
“Remember what I said,” Derrick warned me, before moving off with Devon. I could hear her questioning him as they stepped away. “What did you tell her?”
I turned my attention to the podium at the center of the room. Jake had arrived when I had been distracted. He didn’t make eye contact with me. Actually, he didn’t make eye contact with anyone – including Shelly.
The press conference was short and sweet. Jake told the assembled media that nothing had changed. Sarah Frank was still missing. Investigators had no reason to believe that she was dead – although they had no reason to believe she was alive either. In other words, the whole thing was still a mystery.
“But what evidence did you uncover at the machine shop yesterday?” Shelly asked.
“We don’t know that we’ve uncovered anything,” Jake said earnestly. Anyone that didn’t know him would think he was telling the truth. I knew better. Even if I didn’t, though, I would know he was lying. He has a tell, and it’s his left eye squinting just slightly. I never told him I knew that, though. I didn’t want him to change his behavior. “We’re still looking at some things taken from the back of the building, but it doesn’t look like they’re actually tied to this case.”
That was another lie.
I met Derrick’s gaze across the crowd. He was gauging my reaction. I wisely kept my mouth shut.
After a few more questions, some of which revolved around me and which Jake swiftly sidestepped, the press conference was over.
“Well that was a waste of time,” I heard Devon whisper to Derrick as they moved past me.
“We don’t have anything and we can’t manufacture evidence,” Derrick answered her.
I decided to slip out of the conference room as quietly as possible. I didn’t want Jake’s attention focused on me. Unfortunately, there are two different doors into the room – which meant two different exits. Jake had used the other one and we ran into each other in the hallway.
“Hey,” I greeted him lamely.
“Hey.”
“Um, good press conference.”
Jake shook his head in disbelief. “Yeah, it was an Oscar-winning performance.”
“What do you want me to say, Jake? I already said I was sorry.”
“I don’t want you to say anything. In fact, the sheer absence of the sound of your voice is the best present you could ever give me.”
“There’s no reason to be rude.”
Jake took a step towards me, causing me to stumble back and hit my head on the cement wall behind me. I inadvertently lifted my hand to the back of my head and rubbed it ruefully. Jake was still invading my personal space.
“I’m not being rude,” Jake hissed. “I’m tackling this situation the only way I know how. Now I want a promise from you.”
“What?”
“I want you to promise that you’re going to stay out of this.”
“I promise.”
Jake narrowed his eyes as he regarded me. “I mean it.”
“I have no interest to get any further involved in this case. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” Jake shot back.
“Then trust the fact that I have family dinner tonight so I can’t get involved.” I’m always pragmatic.
Jake searched my face for traces I was lying before finally taking a step back. “Maybe you should have family dinner for the whole weekend?” He suggested.
“Yeah, that would drive me crazy.”
“It would be a nice change of pace for me, though.”
“I told you I wasn’t going to get any further involved – and I meant it,” I repeated.
Jake moved sideways to allow me to leave. “I’m trusting you, Avery. Don’t make me regret it.”
I left the building without looking back. I could feel Jake’s eyes trained on my back for the entire trek down the hall, though. He obviously didn’t trust me. He was right not to.
Twenty-Nine
If I was smart, I would have listened to Jake and returned to the office. I would have filed a mundane story. I would have gossiped with my friend Erin. I would have made fun of Duncan. I would have listened to whatever dating havoc Marvin had wreaked the night before. Then I would have let Eliot drive me to family dinner.
No one has ever called me smart.
Instead, despite my own mind telling me to do just the opposite, I found myself driving out to Romeo. I hadn’t been out to the house in days, but I was relieved to find the streets empty – no media presence in sight. They were probably all getting lunch before coming back out here. If the evening news reports were any indication, trucks were parked out here for the 5 p.m. and 10 p.m. news shows every night.
I parked on the street in front of the house, grabbed my notebook and exited my car. Brian Frank had told all of us that he was available for interviews, so I technically wasn’t invading his privacy. The fact that I hadn’t told anyone where I was going was probably not one of the smarter things I had ever done – but that list was short anyway.
Still, it was broad daylight. I didn’t think anything would happen to me in the rich suburbs a full six hours before darkness hit.
I knocked on the door. I was surprised when Brian Frank answered it almost immediately.
“Mr. Frank, I’m Avery Shaw from The Monitor,” I introduced myself.
“I remember you,” he said. He was staring at me with an emotion I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I was leaning towards disdain. He wiped the look off his face just as quickly as he expressed it, though, and plastered a wide smile on instead. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to just check-in with you and see how things are going. I haven’t seen you in a few days.
”
“I’ve done interviews with the television reporters every night.”
“I’ve seen them,” I acknowledged.
“What do you think?”
That was a weird question. “What do you mean?”
“How do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Really good,” I lied. “You’re a natural at this.”
He shrugged sheepishly. “I’m doing the best I can. I just need to find my wife, and I have to stay in the news to do that.”
“That’s really smart,” I smiled at him wanly.
“Yeah, as long as it brings my wife back, it’s all worth it.”
Brian Frank opened the door and ushered me in. “Why don’t you come in?”
I made my decision in an instant, stepping over the threshold and into his garage. I looked around quickly, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a normal garage. There were two vehicles, one four-door sedan and one blue SUV. The walls were cluttered with various tools, and there was a stack of plastic bins perched by the back door.
“Your garage is cleaner than my house,” I joked.
“My wife likes things clean.”
“A lot of people do.”
Brian Frank led me into this house, motioning towards the dining room table. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
Brian Frank settled in the chair across from me. “So what do you want to know?’
“Mr. Frank . . . “I started.
“Call me Brian.”
“Brian,” I corrected myself. “What do you think happened to your wife?”
He exchanged a conspiratorial look with me, his eyes bugging out of his head even more than normal, and then started to talk. “I think she ran off with her boss.”
“Dick?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I haven’t told anyone this, but they were having an affair.”
“You’re kidding,” I feigned ignorance.
“No.”
“How long have you known?”
“A couple of months.”
“Have you told the police?”
“No,” Brian admitted. “I thought they would think it would give me a motive.”
“But you’re telling me?”
“You’re obviously trustworthy.”
Obviously.
“So, why are you telling me now?” I glanced around his house, realizing that it was eerily silent for an abode that housed two small children and an au pair.
“I’ve read a lot about you,” Brian replied. “You’re very good at your job. I figured if anyone could uncover the truth about my wife, it would be you.”
The look he was giving me was making me extremely uncomfortable, and not just because his eyes were straining in his sockets like a pimple that desperately needed to be popped.
“Where are your kids?”
“At the park with their babysitter,” Brian said simply.
“Steffi?”
He looked surprised that I knew her name. “Yes.”
“How are they doing?”
“I’m trying to be strong for them. I don’t know what to tell them, though. Do I tell them their slut mother ran off with her boss and abandoned us?”
“Probably not,” I laughed hollowly. I was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
“No, that’s not what a good father would do, is it?”
“No.”
“A good father protects his kids. A good father spends time with his kids. A good father doesn’t spend weeks away from them.”
“You’re obviously a good father,” I blurted out nervously.
“I am a great father.”
I had to get out of here. He wasn’t being overtly menacing, but there was something about the aura he was emanating that was making my skin crawl. “I think you’re a great father. Everyone I’ve talked to has said what a great father you are. And what a great husband.” Okay, that’s a total lie. I needed him to believe it, though.
Whatever was going on in Brian Frank’s mind, whatever clouded thoughts he had been mired in, they passed. His eyes lost the hard edge they had only moments before, and he broke out in a wide smile. “People say I’m a great father?”
“Everyone says you’re the best father they’ve ever seen,” I lied.
“It’s good to see my efforts haven’t went unnoticed,” he said. “My wife never noticed.”
“I’m sure she did,” I said lamely. “Some people just don’t know how to communicate.”
“How are you at communicating?”
I was surprised by the question. “Not great,” I admitted.
“I saw you on the news yesterday, you know?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“I asked the sheriff, but he said you didn’t find anything at my dad’s shop.”
“We didn’t,” I lied. “The cops were really there to bust me for trespassing. They just didn’t want the rest of the media to know.”
Brian Frank visibly relaxed in his chair. “Really?”
“Really.”
Thankfully, the silence that had engulfed us was suddenly broken by the sound of the garage door opening and a multitude of feet running into the room. Brian Frank greeted his children with a wide smile and loving hugs, while I fixed my attention on the young woman standing in the doorway.
Eliot had lied when he said she wasn’t hot. She had long blonde hair, a heart-shaped face, and wide-set blue eyes. She was also stacked.
I opened my mouth to greet her, but Steffi ignored me and walked into the living room and out of sight. I didn’t want to follow her, especially given Brian’s unusual behavior. I decided to take advantage of his momentary distraction and excuse myself.
“You don’t have to go,” he protested.
“I have a story to file and then I have a family dinner tonight,” I explained. “I have to be going anyway.”
Brian Frank walked with me to the door, patting my back when I paused at the outside door. “Good luck, Ms. Shaw. I’m sure you’re going to be important to this story – before everything is said and done.”
I turned back to him with a bright smile on my face. “Reporters aren’t supposed to be part of the news, Brian. We just report it.”
Thirty
I drove to a coffee shop in downtown Romeo and called Fish. I told him I had interviewed Brian Frank, and that I would be emailing my story shortly.
“You shouldn’t have gone out there alone,” he admonished me. “You should have taken Duncan with you.”
“Then he wouldn’t have talked to me.” Despite the fear I had been feeling inside of the Frank house, I was now calm and mentally chastising myself for my ridiculous behavior.
“You still wouldn’t have been alone,” Fish pointed out.
“Do you think Duncan would have protected me or helped Brian Frank kill me?”
“I have no idea.”
I disconnected from Fish and cranked out my story, waiting until I got confirmation from him that he had received it. Then I called Eliot.
“I’m just going to meet you at the restaurant,” I told him.
“Where are you?”
“A coffee shop. I just finished my story.” That is not a lie.
“What happened at the press conference?”
“Nothing. Jake said that they were still investigating the evidence at the scene. He wasn’t exactly chatty.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride together?” Eliot asked. Since I was so far north, that would be unnecessary and needless travel on my part. I decided not to tell him I was in Romeo, though. I didn’t want him to blow a gasket.
“No. I have to stop at the pharmacy anyway. Let’s just meet there.”
“Okay, but we’re not spending the night out there,” Eliot countered.
“No one wants that.”
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, yea
h? Is it like a bedroom surprise?” I could really use that about now.
Eliot laughed throatily. “No, but I think I can arrange that, too. It’s more like an interview surprise.”
Steffi.
“You got the au pair?”
“She’s agreed to meet us at a coffee shop in Romeo at 9 p.m. tonight, so we have to keep your family drama to a minimum.”
I decided to let that slide. “I’m going to owe you a big thank you,” I said flirtatiously.
“I plan on collecting.”
During the drive to Oakland County, I ran what I knew through my head. Brian Frank is a weird guy. Sarah Frank was having an affair. Brian Frank knew about it. The au pair might be sleeping with Brian Frank. Dick, Sarah’s boss, was still vacationing in the Bahamas – even though the woman he was having an affair with was missing. The whole thing was a giant mess..
When I got to the restaurant, I looked around the parking lot. There was no sign of Eliot’s truck. That wasn’t surprising, though, since I had been a full half an hour north of him when we talked.
I went into the restaurant and greeted my mom. She raised her eyebrows at my shirt, but didn’t say anything about it. “Where is Eliot?”
“He’s coming. We drove separately.”
She was still staring at my shirt. “What do you think?”
“I think that you have a strange sense of humor, but I’ve decided not to give you the reaction you want. I’m not going to comment on your clothes anymore.”
“Good. Next week I’m wearing my Shark Week ‘Bite Me’ shirt.”
“Don’t you dare!”
The front door chimed and I looked up expectantly. The smile that was initially on my face disappeared when I saw Derrick and Devon enter the establishment. Shit. I so did not want to see her. Thankfully, Eliot walked in the door right after them.
Eliot slid into the booth next to me, greeting my mom warmly. She was just as happy to see him. Any animosity she had once harbored for his long hair and tattoos had since disappeared. I couldn’t decide if that made me happy or not.
Derrick and Devon situated themselves at the middle table. Neither of them acknowledged my presence.
We ordered dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day – and I was still slightly hung-over – so ordered my grandpa’s special spaghetti. Eliot ordered the same.
3 Buried Leads Page 16
