Beneath the Surface

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  “Yes. He’s been reported missing from the Chicago area. But, and here’s the kicker, another man with the same description has also been reported missing in the Atlanta area. Different first name. Same last name.”

  “No way.”

  “I’ve sent over all the information to your email,” she said. “I’m going to keep digging, but this is the only name that jumps out and screams to be investigated further. If you could get something with DNA from the family, you could compare it to your John Doe. It’s something to consider.”

  “This is great, Sabrina. I’ll be back in the office later this morning and I’ll get right on it. Thank you. You’re awesome.”

  “Who’s awesome?” Gabe asked.

  Ryan hung up the phone and filled Gabe in on Sabrina’s news.

  “You get the feeling things are spinning toward a resolution?”

  “Yeah. I hope they don’t spin out of control first.”

  “We aren’t that lucky, man.”

  No. No they weren’t.

  The officer patrolling Leigh’s deck caught her eye.

  Again.

  She looked back at the list on her laptop. Columns of names spoke to her from their cells on her spreadsheet.

  All of them proclaimed their innocence.

  She’d listed every coworker she could think of—nurses, doctors, surgical techs, secretaries, security guards, transporters, and even the radiology techs with whom she had incidental contact.

  The list was ridiculous. Hundreds of people, their faces floating before her eyes as she scanned the sheet. This was wrong. How could she ever set the police loose on any of them?

  But . . .

  What if they were right? What if, somehow, she was the key to solving these murders?

  Father, this is beyond me. If the name is here, you’re going to have to point it out. A shiny arrow appearing on the screen would be great. Or maybe you could highlight it in red?

  She stared at the page. Nothing happened.

  It had been worth a shot. And somehow, throwing out the questions, regardless of how ridiculous they were, heightened her sense that she wasn’t alone. That God was here. With her. That he knew what she was working on.

  He might have even found her joke funny.

  She didn’t have any answers, but the tightness in her chest had eased over the past twenty-four hours. Which made no sense at all, given everything she’d learned.

  Still . . . she kept scanning the pages. Considering and rejecting name after name. After three hours, she’d narrowed down the list to fifty names. None of them were people she knew well—just men and women whose paths crossed hers on a semiregular basis.

  Was the killer here? On this list?

  The phone rang. Rebecca Fowler’s number popped up on the screen. Had Ryan told her? Her skin warmed at the thought of last night. Her boldness. Where had that even come from?

  Not that she was sorry.

  The taste of him, the strength of his embrace, the gentleness of his kiss. She understood his tentativeness. But he didn’t know she’d had a crush on him for a couple of decades. This wasn’t some new emotion borne out of intense circumstances.

  Heightened by them? Sure. But there was no way she’d ever get over them.

  “Hey, Rebecca.”

  “Hey. I just have a second and I know you aren’t supposed to be talking a lot. But I’m in the car and didn’t want to text. Your voice sounds a little better.”

  “Thanks. I’m good. Throat’s still sore. And the bruises look much worse today than they did yesterday. I could audition for a horror movie and they wouldn’t need to use any makeup on me.”

  Rebecca laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “I’d send you a picture, but I don’t want to give you nightmares.”

  “This is a nightmare that will be over soon. I have faith.”

  How Rebecca had any faith at all remained a mystery, but she wouldn’t complain. “Thanks. I’m trying to believe.”

  “You try too hard,” Rebecca said. “Trust me on this. God’s got you whether you are trying to be gotten or not. He’s working something awesome out of all of this. I don’t know what it is. But I know—”

  A crash and a child’s wail in the background came through the phone. “Sorry, Leigh. I have to go.”

  “Everyone okay?”

  “Everyone except the block tower Caleb had been building. We’re good. Tell my brother to call me tonight, okay?”

  The phone disconnected before Leigh could respond. Rebecca hadn’t been fishing for anything, so Ryan must not have talked to her.

  Maybe no one knew.

  What if . . . what if he didn’t want anyone to know?

  The rap on the door drew her to her feet. No one could have gotten by the officer outside. Could they?

  “Yo, Leigh, open up.” Gabe’s merry tone calmed her nerves.

  She opened the door and Gabe bounced inside. Was he ever in a bad mood? Or was it all an act? She hadn’t decided yet.

  “First, I bring greetings from Parker. He’s at the office running down a lead, but he says he’ll call you as soon as he comes up for air. I was commissioned to obtain dinner instructions for the evening.”

  Before she could respond, he continued. “Second, I wanted to apologize for my interruption last night.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “I promise, if I’d had any idea, I would have sat outside for an hour or two.”

  Ryan had told him?

  He must have read the surprise on her face. “Don’t get me wrong. Ryan’s not one to kiss and tell. But he was so aggravated when he opened the door, it was pretty obvious. I badgered him into a full confession.”

  She had no idea what she was supposed to say to that. Not that Gabe was going to give her a chance to say anything. “I think it’s awesome, although you know your brother is going to kill him. You’ll need to be prepared for that.”

  “That doesn’t worry me in the slightest.”

  “Great. Let me know when you tell him. I want to be there to hear it all go down. Should be entertaining.”

  Gabe shifted from one foot to the other. Was he stalling? Was all this some sort of cover-up?

  “What’s going on, Gabe?”

  His eyes dropped to the floor. How had he ever survived a decade of undercover work? He was a horrible—

  Unless he wasn’t. Unless all of it was intentional. “Is there something you want to tell me but you aren’t supposed to tell me?”

  He looked up with a grin and winked.

  “Something about the case?”

  His eyes darted away. He looked everywhere but at her. What did he know?

  “Gabe Chavez, I’m in no mood for games. If there’s something going on that involves me, you’d better tell me and tell me now.” She was trying to be demanding, but her battered larynx betrayed her and the words came out whispery.

  Gabe grinned. “Since you forced it out of me . . . we have a solid lead on our John Doe. We might even have a name by tonight.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, but dinner may be late. Everyone’s planning to meet here tonight to discuss. Will that be okay with you? Because I have to tell you, hanging out here is way more comfortable than being in the office.”

  “That’s awesome with me. I don’t care what we eat. Order whatever everyone wants. I’ll be good with anything. I’ll bake a—”

  “Whoa.” Gabe held up his hands. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  She didn’t argue with him. She’d whip up something after he left.

  “You’re going to bake anyway, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She didn’t respond.

  He laughed. “I did what I could. See you tonight.”

  She locked the door behind him and checked the clock. It would probably be at least seven before they all arrived. She had four hours. Maybe if she baked and prayed and thought about her list, something would come to her. Some missing piece would fall into place.

 
; She emailed the list to Sabrina, then pulled out flour and sugar and cocoa.

  Five hours later, her kitchen counters were covered with empty takeout containers and half the cupcakes she had baked were devoured. She listened to the updates.

  “Anything new on your end, Bell?”

  “No.” Anissa growled the word. “I cannot figure out how Calvin got here. He definitely arrived in Richmond. And then he . . . disappeared. No car rental. No bus ticket. It’s like he got off the plane and vanished.”

  Ryan’s phone buzzed. “Excuse me a moment.” He stepped onto the porch and the conversation resumed.

  “Have you found any footage of him in Richmond?” Sabrina chewed on her straw while she waited for Anissa to respond.

  “Yes. I’ve got footage of him at the airport and one brief glimpse of him on a camera as he left the airport. It looks like he was walking toward the economy parking area. And then . . . nothing.”

  “Someone picked him up?”

  “Maybe.”

  The door burst open. “We have a name! John Doe #1 is Harold Claussen.” Ryan’s excitement brought everyone to their feet.

  “What? How?”

  “We will still have to confirm with DNA, but the anthropologist is ninety-eight percent sure. She had told me our John Doe had broken his left leg and his right arm probably in his teens. When we got this name to check out from Sabrina”—Ryan pointed to Sabrina and she dipped her head in acknowledgment—“I called the responsible officer in Chicago. She followed up with his wife and told her she was still working on the case and needed to get a more detailed medical questionnaire filled out. In the process, she asked her if he’d ever broken any bones. His wife volunteered the information. A bad skiing accident in his teens. He broke his right forearm, his left femur, and apparently did some serious damage to his left foot. But obviously that doesn’t help us any.”

  Leigh couldn’t stop the shudder that rippled through her. She tried not to dwell on it, but the idea that some maniac out there could kill her and then chop off her head, hands, and feet . . .

  When had the room gone quiet? She looked up and found five pairs of sympathetic eyes on her. Ryan’s face filled with horror. “I’m sorry,” he said in an anguished whisper. “We shouldn’t be doing this here. It’s not fair to you.”

  “No, I’d rather hear it. I don’t want to end up buried in an unmarked grave or dumped in the lake—or whatever else this person might be planning for me. But I also don’t want anyone else to wind up that way. If you’re right and I can somehow help figure out who the killer is, then I need to stay engaged.”

  Ryan’s head shook back and forth in obvious indecision. Anissa cleared her throat. “This is why we don’t typically involve the affected parties in our discussions,” she said. “But I agree with Leigh. We’ve got a twisted soul out there. Possibly someone who we know. Someone we would never expect. This situation with Leigh has forced them out of their usual patterns and we have a chance we wouldn’t have had otherwise to find them and stop them once and for all.”

  “I agree,” Sabrina said. “Leigh’s tough enough. We need to be respectful of how difficult this is for her and appreciative of her willingness to sacrifice so we can get to the bottom of this. But that doesn’t mean we have to shut her out of these conversations. She needs to hear them.”

  Leigh smiled at both women. It was nice to be understood.

  “Of course, she’ll probably need therapy when it’s over.” Sabrina’s matter-of-fact statement shocked the room. Everyone froze, their eyes wide, mouths open in stunned disbelief.

  The thing was, Sabrina wasn’t wrong. But she was the only one who would say it out loud.

  No one would make eye contact with Leigh, but as the silence draped over the room, the absurdity of all of it flooded over her. What started as a snicker blossomed into a chuckle. She cleared her throat and pinched her lips together, but another snicker escaped. She could not do this again. She blinked hard several times, but then Gabe lost it and broke into laughter. Then Anissa. Even Adam. Sabrina looked confused. Ryan looked like he might cry.

  The laughter hurt Leigh’s throat and neck, but it was also cathartic. She wiped her eyes and walked over to Ryan, who was watching her intently. “I promise I’m okay.”

  “It isn’t funny,” he said.

  “Believe me, I know it isn’t.”

  “It’s like laughing in church,” Anissa said. “You know you shouldn’t, but once you start . . .”

  “Was it something I said?” Sabrina asked.

  Sabrina’s innocent question sent all of them into another round of laughter. This time, even Ryan cracked a smile.

  “Sabrina, I think you may be the most refreshingly honest person I’ve ever met,” Leigh said.

  Sabrina frowned. “People say ‘refreshingly honest’ when what they mean is ‘you said something wildly inappropriate.’ I know. I do this a lot.”

  Behind Sabrina’s back, Gabe shook with laughter.

  Leigh tried not to look at him. “I don’t need people in my life who tap-dance around me. I need people to shoot straight. And you aren’t wrong. I will need therapy. I’d start tomorrow if I wasn’t afraid of getting the therapist killed.”

  Ryan groaned.

  Gabe raised a hand. When he had everyone’s attention, he nodded toward Sabrina. “You, my dear, are a breath of fresh air, and I’m thrilled you are a part of our intrepid band of investigators.” He chuckled as he said the words but still managed to convey them with sincerity and kindness. Sabrina’s face flushed, but she was clearly pleased.

  He pointed at Anissa next. “You, my captain, are a constant source of inspiration and insight.”

  Gabe’s pronouncement shocked all of them, and based on the way her mouth fell open, Anissa most of all, but Gabe didn’t elaborate.

  He turned to Ryan. “You, my friend, have to keep your head in the game. We know you’re smitten with the lovely Leigh.” He nodded in her direction. “And who could blame you? She’s a delight and a treasure. But if you want to keep her around so you can sweep her off her feet, you’re going to have to focus. And, to be perfectly honest, you’re going to have to quit worrying about protecting her feelings and worry more about protecting her life.”

  20

  Thursday morning dawned dark and gloomy. The forecast called for five days of cooler temps and heavy rain.

  But the sight of Leigh sipping her coffee warmed Ryan to his core. He’d sleep in her basement forever if he got this view every morning.

  “Hi,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

  “Fine,” he said. “You?”

  A small shrug. When he got closer, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. The even deeper bruising on her neck. He pulled her from her perch on the bar stool and she melted into his arms. “Bad dreams?”

  “I’m not sure if they were bad dreams or panic attacks. Maybe both.”

  “I’m going to find him,” he said. “And you won’t have to be afraid.”

  He tipped her chin up and her arms slid around his neck without hesitation. His heart pounded in his chest as he pressed his lips to hers. He wanted to stay right here. Hold her until she fell asleep and be there if she woke in fear.

  But Gabe had been right last night. He had to keep his head in the game, and hanging out with her wasn’t going to solve her case.

  “Parker?” The captain’s voice echoed through the squad room, interrupting the memory of Leigh’s kiss goodbye.

  “Yes, sir!”

  “My office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He glanced around the room. Anissa and Gabe both gave him small shrugs. They didn’t know what was going on either.

  He stepped into the captain’s office.

  “Close the door.”

  He did.

  “Have a seat.”

  Not good.

  “We have a situation.”

  Ryan waited.

  “I got a call from downstairs. Mrs. Claussen is
here.”

  “Okay.” Not fun, but not what he would call a problem.

  “But she’s not the Mrs. Claussen I spoke to this morning.”

  Wait. What?

  “Sir?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With all due respect, sir—”

  “How do I know? Because the woman I spoke to this morning is thirty-seven years old and according to her DMV records, she lives in Atlanta, where she works as an aerobics instructor. The woman downstairs, according to the driver’s license she presented to the clerk, is fifty-nine and lives in Chicago. Just for fun, I called the Mrs. Claussen I spoke with this morning. She’s still on her way. I talked to her while watching the Mrs. Claussen who is currently waiting downstairs. They are not the same woman.”

  “Two wives?”

  “Wife #1, or my guess is she’s wife #2, is already past Charlotte,” the captain said. “She’ll be here in the next hour. All either of them know is that there is a significant lead in their husband’s disappearance.”

  Ryan put his head in his hands. Could this case get any weirder?

  “Any advice?”

  The captain chuckled. “I’ve had them put Mrs. Claussen in the family interview room. I recommend you keep ’em in separate rooms and don’t let them see each other, certainly not until we sort it all out. Get a couple of the white-collar investigators who specialize in identity theft on it and get them to figure out what’s going on with these two. Treat them both like they are the wife. Do your interviews. Report back to me.”

  Ryan went into the observation room adjacent to the interview room first. He made sure everything was recording properly and paused to watch Mrs. Claussen #1 for a moment through the window. She wore a pair of slacks and a flowy shirt. Flat black shoes. She clutched a tissue in one hand and a large handbag in the other.

  “Those shoes run about two-fifty a pair. And that bag is worth a week’s salary,” Anissa said.

  Where had she come from? “How do you know?”

  Anissa wasn’t someone who struck him as a fashionista. She wore slacks and semi-dressy tops to work. Off hours, she usually had on gym clothes. He’d never seen her in anything else except a wet suit for diving.

  “My roommate in college had about twenty of those bags,” she said.