The Missing Piece (The Jigsaw Files)

by Sharon Sala

  Wyrick wasn’t man bait anymore, but she was alive. She knew she looked like an android. No hair. No boobs. Over six feet tall in boots. So she played the tough bitch to the hilt and put away the woman she’d been. Now if she could find a way to outrun her past, her life would be just about perfect.

  When lunchtime rolled around, Wyrick ordered Chinese through Grubhub and kept working. Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rang. She hit Save and ran to answer.

  The delivery guy was one she’d seen before. He eyed her warily as he handed over her food.

  “You moved.”

  She frowned. He’d gotten personal.

  “Something like that,” she said and shut the door in his face.

  She took the bag to the kitchen and began drawing out all the containers, then removed the chopsticks that came with the order. As she pulled the chopsticks apart, she flashed to a Thanksgiving dinner when she was a child, pulling the wishbone with her mother to see who got to make the wish. She allowed herself only a few minutes to process the spurt of sadness for her five short years of childhood before she set old memories aside.

  “Suck it up,” she told herself, then began opening the boxes and taste testing spring rolls, orange chicken, shrimp with snow peas and sweet-and-sour pork.

  She’d purposely ordered more than she could eat, so she would have leftovers to take home, and she’d made an online grocery order, which she’d pick up at Walmart after work. Since delivery was straight to her car, it eliminated the need for her to mingle with the masses.

  She was finishing up the shrimp and snow peas, and had all she wanted of the spring rolls. With most of the orange chicken and sweet-and-sour pork left over, she was good to go for a couple more meals and wrapping it up when her cell phone rang.

  She wiped her hands and looked to see who was calling. When she noticed it was from her stockbroker, she answered.

  “Hello, Corney, what’s up?”

  Randall Corne ignored her. She knew the e in his name was silent.

  “Nasdaq is up. That’s what’s up. You made a huge killing today, as did your hub company on the Dow. The Dunleavy Corporation fell again today, due to the continuing mystery of Carter Dunleavy’s disappearance. I was wondering if you want to buy in. Their stock is lower than it’s been in years, and you know that’ll change once the status of the company is—”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” Wyrick said. “I am semi-involved with the Dunleavy Corporation at the moment, and buying now when I know more about the status than I should would make buying stock in the company illegal. So I pass.”

  “Oh. Uh...I had no idea you—”

  “Thanks for calling, Corney. I need to get back to work.”

  She disconnected, then sighed. Passing on that tip had been painful. The Dunleavy Corp was a healthy company, and the diversification intrigued her, but this was a no-brainer. She was knee-deep in Carter Dunleavy’s business. Buying into it would be all kinds of wrong.

  She put her leftovers in the refrigerator, then poured herself a glass of iced tea and took it to the dining room table.

  The afternoon passed slowly as Wyrick continued to sort through data from the computer downloads. But it wasn’t until she began going through Carter’s bank statements that she noticed one particular draw for five thousand dollars cash that happened every other Thursday. The more she searched, the more was revealed. That five-thousand-dollar draw had been going on for more than ten years. That was ten thousand dollars a month. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year—for ten years. Granted, it was peanuts to Carter, but it was also indicative of blackmail money to someone else. She made a note to call Charlie and have him check Carter Dunleavy’s planner to see if there was any specific notation on Thursdays, then glanced at the time. It was already after six, and thanks to her latest move, she had a long way to drive to get home.

  It wasn’t as if she expected to find a smoking gun on the first day, so she saved everything, shut down the office and locked up as she left Charlie’s apartment. She stopped at Walmart for her grocery pickup, waiting impatiently for it to be brought to her car. When she saw a delivery girl approaching, she popped the trunk.

  The girl unloaded the sacks, then shut the trunk and came around to the driver’s-side window. Wyrick signed off on the grocery delivery and handed her a twenty, which put a huge smile on the girl’s face. Wyrick drove away, wondering what it was like not to have enough money.

  She drove out of the parking lot, then back to the nearest on-ramp. Soon she was weaving her way in and out of traffic on the freeway, keeping a wary eye on the cars behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

  An hour and twenty minutes after leaving Charlie’s, she arrived at her new place and went around to the back of the old mansion and walked into the apartment. It took a couple of trips to get everything carried inside, but it wasn’t until she set the security alarm on her car and locked herself into the apartment that she finally relaxed.

  She stored the Chinese leftovers in the refrigerator, then began putting away groceries. As soon as she was finished, she went straight to the bathroom to shower and change. She turned on the shower, and then faced the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

  She saw the obvious—her height and taut, well-defined muscles. The missing hair and breasts were hardly noticeable for the red, green and black dragon tattoo covering her entire chest and belly. The dragon’s lower body and part of its tail wrapped around her back and across her lower right hip, then curled around her right leg, ending just below the knee. It was a powerful, bordering-on-mystical image, and it made her feel like the badass she presented to the world.

  The water was obviously hot now, because the steam was slowly misting over her image in the mirror. She leaned in to adjust the temp, then stepped in beneath the flow, pulling the shower curtain behind her as she went.

  The air conditioner kicked in as she was getting out of the shower, which prompted her to dry off quickly and get dressed. She was in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt as she went to the kitchen. Two meals of Chinese food in one day didn’t appeal to her, so she scrambled eggs and toasted an English muffin instead, then ate it curled up on the sofa, watching the evening news.

  After rummaging through her recent purchases for something sweet to end her meal, she settled for a handful of chocolate kisses and got her laptop, logged on to Merlin’s Wi-Fi and began checking on her holdings. She pulled up the new game she was writing for her media company. It was for an Xbox game called Clown Hell. She was still tinkering with the title, but right now it alternated between Happy Bites the Dust and Hammering Happy. She hated clowns.

  Four

  It was evening by the time Charlie waded through the police files and was studying Carter’s daily planner, checking the log of appointments he’d had during the past year. He was trying to find patterns in the schedule, looking for the ones that stood out. But without knowing anything about the man, he wasn’t making much headway.

  What he needed to do next was interview the family members. He couldn’t decide whether to talk to them separately or confront them when they were all together, but his gut feeling was that someone in that family knew something. And without ransom requests, unless that someone—family or not—hated Dunleavy enough to kill him, the man was on the run.

  He wondered if Wyrick had found anything and thought about calling her, then decided against it. If she’d found something, he’d already know it. She was the most direct and up-front person he’d ever known. The only thing she hid from him was her personal life, and as curious as he was about what made her tick and why she kept moving from one apartment to another in Dallas, none of that was his business.

  His eyes were burning from so much online reading, and his back ached. Old war wounds never let him forget they were there. He glanced at the time. He had a dinner reservation here at the hotel and the prospect of food was calling him, so he got ready and went down.

 
; The lobby was still full of women, all with lanyards around their necks and some kind of logo on the dangling badges. The women had overrun the lobby seating, which made him wonder if there’d be a line at the restaurant. He was suddenly glad he’d had the foresight to make that reservation.

  He headed down the hall to where the restaurant was located and could already hear the chatter. As he turned a corner, he saw a long line of guests waiting to be seated.

  He walked past them and up to the hostess.

  “Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Charlie Dodge. I have a seven o’clock dinner reservation.”

  The hostess scanned the list and picked up a menu.

  “Yes, Mr. Dodge. This way, please.”

  Charlie heard voices behind him, but none of the women seemed bothered by the fact that he was being seated while they were still waiting. They seemed more interested in him.

  The hostess put him at a table for two, then handed him the menu.

  “Your waiter will be here shortly. Enjoy your dinner,” she said.

  “Thanks. What’s with all the women? Is it a convention of some kind?” he asked.

  Her all-business attitude shifted as she suddenly smiled. “Yes, and so exciting. They’re all romance writers.”

  “There are a lot of them,” he said.

  “It’s a national convention. I’ve already met some of my favorites. Enjoy your meal,” she said again.

  He opened the menu, but was still thinking about the comments he’d overheard as he was walking past the lineup. Something about good on a cover. He was relieved. It was better than being good under covers, which was what he’d first thought they’d said.

  He gave the menu a once-over but knew what he wanted to eat. Prime rib, done medium well, and a baked potato swimming in butter.

  * * *

  In Carter’s absence, Jason Dunleavy was presiding at the family dinner table. Hanging on the wall behind him was a portrait of their ancestor Sean Dunleavy, who’d immigrated from Ireland a bit over two hundred years earlier. Sean had the good sense to catch the eye of the daughter of a railroad baron and married into money, which began their story here in Denver.

  Jason was well aware that their Irish bloodline ran deep and true. Except for the difference in clothing styles, he could have sat for the portrait. All of the Dunleavy clan had the same high foreheads, straight noses, blue eyes and thick red hair.

  It was just after eight o’clock when the first course was served—a light and flavorful vichyssoise, one of Jason’s favorites. As soon as everyone was served, they began to dine. Edward Dunleavy’s lack of sight did not deter him from tackling the soup, and Jason’s mother, Dina, was taking tiny spoonfuls, as if she was afraid she might gain a little weight.

  Jason shook his head at his mother’s simpering behavior, while choosing to ignore Kenneth Miers, the so-called fiancé sitting beside her, although he had yet to see Miers put a ring on her finger.

  He wished his uncle Ted didn’t live so far away. He hadn’t seen him since last Christmas. However, Ted had been the one to recommend Charlie Dodge, so he was grateful for that.

  Dina was through with her soup and put down her spoon as she leaned back in her chair. “Jason, darling, you had a meeting with Charlie Dodge this morning. What did you think of him?”

  Edward paused, tilting his head toward the sound of his sister’s voice.

  “Who’s Charlie Dodge?” he asked, but it was Jason who answered.

  “He’s the private investigator I hired to find out what happened to Uncle Carter,” Jason said.

  Edward frowned. “I didn’t know you were going to do that.”

  “The police are at a standstill. They have no new leads, and our stock is dropping every day Uncle Carter’s whereabouts remain unknown,” Jason said.

  “Oh,” Edward said. “I didn’t realize that. I don’t know what we’d be doing right now if it weren’t for you. Neither Dina nor I are capable of tending to the corporation.”

  “It’s not a problem, Uncle Edward. This is what Uncle Carter has been training me to do for years, so it’s not like I’m starting from nowhere,” Jason said.

  “I say, what do you know about this man, Dodge?” Kenneth asked.

  Jason looked up, saw his mother brushing a stray lock of hair away from Kenneth Miers’s forehead and frowned.

  “Uncle Ted recommended him. He’s been treating Dodge’s wife for Alzheimer’s for several years now.”

  Kenneth barely hid a smirk and whispered something in Dina’s ear.

  She giggled, then glanced at Jason and flushed, obviously recognizing her precarious position. Staying on Kenneth’s good side without antagonizing her son was nearly impossible because the two men didn’t like each other.

  Jason ignored his mother’s unspoken request not to comment. “Kenneth, you do not have a say in any decisions that are made regarding our family business, but since you felt the need to comment, I think you should share it with the table,” Jason said.

  Dina gave Jason another pleading glance, which he also ignored. It made her mad enough to say something to him. “Really, Jason. You needn’t be rude. Kenneth and I are only months from marriage.”

  Jason sighed. “It wouldn’t matter if you were already married. Kenneth will never have voting rights in this family, or the corporation, and you know it.”

  Kenneth shrugged. “No problem, Dina, darling. I’ll answer your son’s request.” Then he looked straight at Jason and smiled. “I merely made a comment about the competence of an investigator in that age bracket. I mean, Alzheimer’s is a disease of the elderly, so exactly how old is this PI? If he qualifies for Medicare, I think you need to reconsider your choice.”

  “You need to think again,” Jason snapped. “There are many cases of early-onset Alzheimer’s. His wife is still in her forties. As for Dodge, he’s a former army ranger. He has a sterling reputation in Dallas, where he lives and is much in demand. After meeting him today, I wouldn’t want to piss him off.”

  Then Jason rang the bell for the servers, who promptly appeared. “We’re ready for the next course,” Jason said, ignoring the embarrassed expression on Kenneth’s face.

  But it was the sad tone of Edward’s voice that shifted everyone’s focus.

  “I hope Mr. Dodge succeeds,” Edward said. “I miss my brother.”

  * * *

  Charlie had gone straight from his prime rib and potato to the hotel bar. Not because he particularly needed a drink, but because he wasn’t ready to go back to the room and think about Annie. Today was her birthday, and while she didn’t know or care, he did. He was too far away from Dallas to coax her into a bite of birthday cake.

  He ordered a whiskey neat, downed it like medicine and signaled for the bartender to do it again. After that, he tossed some money on the bar and got up with his drink. The bar was full of even more romance writers, and he felt their curiosity as he moved through the room. He found a table at the back and sat down, waved away the waitress and sent a text to the director at Morning Light Care Center.

  Today was Annie’s birthday. Did she have cake? Is she okay? If there is any immediate need she might have, I’m out of state on a case. You can contact my assistant. I’m sending you her name and phone number. But if there is any kind of change in her health or condition, I still want to know.

  He hit Send, then leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. He got a reply within minutes, stating that Annie was fine, that she’d eaten her meal and part of her birthday cupcake. The staff sang “Happy Birthday” to her and thanked him for the info regarding his assistant. It wasn’t as good as seeing Annie, but it eased his guilt at not being there.

  About thirty minutes later, a waitress appeared with another whiskey on a tray and set it on his table, along with a note.

  “I didn’t order that,” Charlie said.

  The waitress pointed at a table of women in the middle of the room who were waving at h
im.

  “They sent it and this note.”

  Charlie picked up the note.

  Enjoy the drink with our compliments for being such a fine specimen of manhood. If you’d ever like to be on the cover of a romance novel, just let us know.

  Betty, Jules, Robin and Tish

  —Colorado Romance Authors

  Charlie looked up. The women were grinning from ear to ear.

  He chuckled, picked up the drink and toasted them, then downed it neat. That was one drink more than his usual, which meant it was time to quit. He set the empty glass back on the note, then walked out of the bar.

  * * *

  Wyrick had fallen asleep with her laptop open and was deep into a nightmare from her past.

  * * *

  “Look at me, darling, and smile.”

  Five-year-old Jade turned toward her mother, grinning broadly as she waved at the camera, before the merry-go-round took her away.

  She was on the shiny black horse with the red saddle and reins. It was her favorite, and she rode it every Sunday. Her hands were tightly wrapped around the pole as she leaned back and closed her eyes, imagining that she was riding in the surf down at the beach. She could smell the salt air, the hot roasted peanuts and the sickly sweet scent of cotton candy. The squawk of gulls fighting over a bit of bread from someone’s discarded hot dog was as familiar to her as the sound of her own voice. The music of the merry-go-round was so loud it almost drowned out the noise of everything else, but she didn’t care. She and Mama were going to get taffy when the ride was over. It was what they did every Sunday afternoon at the pier.

  She was coming back around to the place where her mother always stood, but when Jade lifted her hand to wave, Mama wasn’t there! An odd little spurt of fear shot through her as she rode out of sight, then she told herself Mama would be there next time. Only when the carousel came around again, and then again, and there was still no sight of her mother, she officially panicked. Now the music and the ride were beginning to slow down, and her panic was rising. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to get home.