She wanted to look at Sean, but her instinct told her that, in this case, instead of strengthening her resolve, it would weaken it. She didn’t know why the thought of facing this man made her crumble inside. Her university days weren’t a bad time in her life.
“Arthur, Mr. Davenport sent us to inquire on his daughter. Now, we’ve already spoken to her literary professor, Mr. Harland, and he provided us with a few names of her friends, but he only gave us first names.”
“Why not go back and ask him for the surnames?”
“Well, the professor is a busy man, not to suggest you aren’t, however, Mr. Davenport also wanted us to talk to you about his daughter’s record as well. So, we’re killing two birds with one stone.” She caught Sean’s smile from her peripheral.
“Understandable, seeing as he sent someone all this way,” Fleming said.
Sara noticed how the older man didn’t pay any attention to Sean.
“So, Harland gave us three names and we’ve already spoken with two of the students, but he also gave us the name Monica. He said she is also in the class with Halie.”
“Ah, yes, Monica Fuller.”
“You know who she is right off?”
“I know all my students, Mrs. McKinley.”
“Sara, please.”
He smiled. “Sara.”
“Do you know where we could find her?”
“Of course. She lives in the dorms.” He went to the keyboard on his desk and lifted his eyeglasses up from the chain that was dangling around his neck. “I don’t have their residences memorized.”
Sara smiled at him, thankful that he didn’t as that extent of knowledge would cross the border of what was appropriate.
“Here we go.” Arthur proceeded to tap his hands on the surface of his desk, apparently searching for something. “Do you have a pen?”
“If you tell me, I’ll remember.”
“Beautiful and smart.”
Sara glanced over at Sean and he smiled at her. She was happy to see that his jealous nature was transforming to pride instead.
Arthur rhymed off the details of where they could find Monica.
“Thank you very much for your help.” Sara stood.
“Any time, but is that all you needed?”
“Yes, it—”
Sean’s cell phone rang and he excused himself to go into the hallway to answer it. Sara followed behind.
The conversation was mostly one-sided and she sensed something had gone terribly wrong.
Sean hung up and leveled eyes with her. “The case has just taken on a life of its own.”
“Sean?”
“That was Reanne. The ransom call came in just a few minutes ago. Halie Davenport was kidnapped. She also said the caller was the same one who answered Halie’s cell phone Monday night.”
Infatuation
THEY HEADED FOR MONICA’S DORM room, hurrying across campus in a slow jog, Sara’s steps a little ahead of Sean’s.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
“Until tomorrow night at seven.”
“And the recording of the call. Can we hear it?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, PD confiscated it for security purposes. They are reviewing it for clues.”
“What about Davenport’s copy? He made it clear he recorded calls.”
“They took that too.”
“Who knows, if we could just hear it.” She paused for a second. “And how are we supposed to be in two places at once? I mean the kidnapper would be down here, but the girl doesn’t have any money. Halie was targeted because of who her father is.”
He loved the determination that came off her with this case and her focus was on a happy ending. While he had faith in their abilities, a part of him doubted being able to bring this one to a perfect resolution. After all, it had been days already, and even though he knew the ransom call was just made, the delay didn’t sit well with him. Was the girl already dead and the ransom call an afterthought?
She stood to the side of Monica’s door and let Sean knock.
The door flung open, exposing a messy inside with clothes strewn all over the bed and the floor. He held his hand up to Sara and went in slowly. He looked around and came face to face with a female student. His arms shot up, covering his face—the memory of the burning mace ever clear in his mind. “Are you Monica Fuller?”
The brunette appraised him, her eyes drifting from his feet to his eyes. Her mouth lifted in a lazy smile, her brown eyes narrowing seductively. “I can be whoever you want me to be.”
She leaned in, reaching for his hand, and he caught a whiff of alcohol.
His cop instincts were buzzing but Monica didn’t appear hurt. “Are you alone?”
“I was until you came by, handsome.” Monica draped her arms around Sean’s neck.
“Sean.” He lifted her arms with a pressed smile and a fleeting glance to Sara. She was grinning, apparently finding some amusement with all this. It was certainly more than he did. He hated forward women at the best of times, throw in this one’s age, and the fact he was happily married, to the woman three feet from him, and all the hairs went up on his neck.
Sara stepped forward. “Monica, my name is Sara.”
The girl took a few faltering steps back from Sean. Her eyes locked in a deadpan gaze on Sara. Her arms came toward him again and he curtailed them, moving toward Sara and putting an arm around her waist.
Defeat twisted Monica’s lips into a pout. “Figures.” She turned and went farther into the room.
Sean nodded at Sara, hoping she would pick up on his body language to take over the questioning, as he closed the door.
Monica sat on the end of a bed and ran a hand through her hair. “What do you want with me?”
“We actually wanted to talk about your friend Halie,” Sara said.
She let out a deep exhale as she waved her arm. “Everyone wants to talk about her.” Her eyes sliced to the left and then went back to Sara.
Sean moved behind Sara, but let her continue with the questioning.
“Do you know of any boyfriends in her life?”
Monica shook her head. “No one I know of. Is something wrong with her? Who are you people?”
“They’re literary agents.”
Sean never heard the door open, and both he and Sara turned around to face Justin.
Monica blew past them to rush over to Justin. “Would you go away?”
“But—”
“Bye-bye now.”
Justin flashed one glare to Sean and Sara before leaving. Sean noted how, for being rejected in front of other people, it didn’t seem to faze him at all.
Monica slammed the door behind him, dramatically rolling her eyes at the same time. “Oh, the guy is such a loser.”
“We were told he and Halie were friends,” Sean said.
“Yeah, in another reality maybe. She wouldn’t give him the time of day.”
“But you are close?”
Her head angled to the left. “Yeah, that’s why I kicked him out just now.”
He held eye contact.
She laced her arms. “Fine, I was going to,” she rolled her hands, “you know, but it’s not what you think. It’s not because I love the guy, or even like the guy. It was just some afternoon entertainment.”
“So, Halie didn’t like Justin?” Sara asked.
Monica pried her attention from Sean. “It wasn’t so much that at first, but the guy was so jealous, ya know, it got in the way of there ever being a possible friendship.”
“What was he jealous about?”
“What wasn’t he jealous about would be a better question. Her rich and powerful father, her grades, her writing. But none of this stopped him from trying to get close to her.”
“But something did?”
“You some sort of mind reader? You’re not agents, are you?”
Sara shook her head.
“Justin backed off when she told him not to bother entering the writing contest.
She told him he wasn’t good enough and it would be a waste of everyone’s time.” Monica’s chin quivered slightly.
Sean sensed there was more she wasn’t saying. “Not very nice.”
“You think?”
Any feigned attraction she displayed toward him before had disappeared.
“Listen, is something wrong with her?”
“She’s missing.”
“Missing? Figures. Everything happens to her.”
Sean glanced at Sara and picked up on her subtle smirk.
He proceeded with the question that needed asking. “Do you know of anyone who—”
“You’re cops, aren’t you?” Her eyes went up and down Sean but halted when she took in Sara’s dress. “You’re awfully fancy for one though.”
Sara placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Sean expected her to shrug free of the touch, but Monica stayed put.
“We’re trying to find your friend. She could be in danger,” Sara said softly.
Monica went still and the room fell quiet.
Sean repeated his inquiry. “Do you know of anyone who would hurt her?”
Monica shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip as she did. Her eyes no longer meeting with either of them. “Sorry.”
“Do you think Justin could have taken her?” Sara asked.
Monica rubbed her arms as if fending off a chill. Her chin trembled and a tear fell when she spoke. “I don’t know.”
The hypothetical situations came at Sara, but one thing held fast. “Monica’s hiding something.”
“I agree, and whatever it is has her terrified.”
Sara’s insides ached. There was just something about this case—Halie’s age, the fear in Monica’s eyes, the strange relationship both of them seemed to have with Justin. “Do you think it’s Justin?”
“Well, he’s an odd kid, but a kidnapper? I’m not so sure. Although Halie did insult him on a personal level, telling him that his writing was sub par.”
“Says Monica. But didn’t you read behind what Monica said? There is more going on here than she told us. I’m not sure I’m buying her line.”
“She did look afraid, that’s for sure.”
“So who could drive that sort of fear into people?” She ruminated on the facts. “I’m not sure about Justin, so we need to look into him, find out who he really is, and get his background.”
He placed a hand on her elbow. “I’m not too certain Jimmy will help us this time, darling.”
“You’re probably right, but we have to try. We also have to eliminate people surrounding the mayor. Remember those protesting business people on TV? They were going to lose everything due to the zoning bylaw changes.”
“We know money is a motive for murder.” He studied her eyes as she did his. “I’d wager politics is as well. So, back home?”
“I don’t think we have any choice. We have to speak to these people. And if we want any possibility of Jimmy helping us, we need to ask him in person. Maybe slip in that bottle of scotch.” She laughed, and so did he.
“It probably wouldn’t hurt.” His expression fell somber again. “But we’re not talking about an old case, or one in another country, we’re talking about the mayor’s daughter—the mayor from our city.”
“Yeah, but if he doesn’t help us…” Her words faltered off to non-existence.
“We will still get to the bottom of this. You have to believe it.”
“I just hope we get there before Halie’s dead.”
Weary Travelers And Baited Wishes
THEIR JET TOUCHED DOWN IN Albany at eight o’clock at night. There was a definite advantage to owning one’s own plane—the flexibility of coming and going whenever one felt the inclination.
The car service was waiting for them when they arrived.
“This seems like it’s been a long day, darling.” Sara nuzzled into Sean’s chest, his arm wrapped tightly around her, as they walked down the tarmac toward the idling town car. Anthony, the co-pilot followed behind them with their bags.
“Well, we’re certainly putting some miles on this thing,” Sean said.
Sara laughed. “It’s a hard-knock life, isn’t—”
“Mr. and Mrs. McKinley.” The uniformed driver tipped his hat and held the back door for Sara.
Anthony passed their belongings to the driver, and said, “Good evening,” before heading back toward the plane.
Sara slid across the back seat and Sean got in beside her. “Looks like we didn’t even need to pack,” he said.
“I guess not.” That admission made her melancholy. She was looking forward to breaking out a notebook and writing a bit back at the hotel. She told herself it didn’t really matter. She would get to it, it was just postponed. “You sure Jimmy’s going to be happy to see us?”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see us. It is what we are looking for that he might not want to hear about.”
“That’s why we’re going in armed.” Sara laughed.
They rang the buzzer for Jimmy’s apartment several times—no answer. Sean held the bottle of scotch, ready to make the preemptive attempt to smooth things over before making their request. They would figure out a way to get to the bottom of things on their own if necessary, but it would be that much easier with Jimmy’s cooperation.
“He’s likely at the station or even with the Davenports,” Sean said.
“Let’s go to the station then, darling. We don’t have answers for Mr. Davenport yet.”
“Probably a good idea to avoid it as long as we can. I’m actually surprised a man like him hasn’t called to follow up on our progress.”
“Since you offered our services free of charge, I’m sure he wouldn’t feel right about hounding us.”
“Still, his daughter is missing. Her life threatened.”
“What were the exact words of the ransom caller?”
“I just know they wanted one million wired to a numbered account.”
“Well, that’s original.”
“It is what it is, darling.” Sean looked again at the door in front of them. The underground parking lot was only accessible by a key provided to tenants, so it left Sean and Sara without a way to confirm that Jimmy wasn’t home. Sean pulled out his cell and dialed Jimmy’s. It rang to voice mail. Sean hung up. “He’s either at the station or the Davenports, just like we thought.”
“Voice mail?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s try the station.”
“You think it’s a good idea to waltz in there with a bottle of scotch, begging the sergeant for a favor.” Sean laughed. The thought of it sounded absurd.
“Think of it this way, if he doesn’t help us I’m sure someone would like that payment.” Sara pointed to the scotch and laughed.
“That’s one thing with most cops, they love their drink.”
“Dealing with the politics alone is enough to reach for the odd cocktail.” She smiled at him.
“Isn’t that the truth.”
When they got to the station, the lot was empty. The night shift was out in full force, as per the regular schedule, but in addition, some would have been dispatched to watch over the Davenport household. To Sean, it equated a lot of manpower when there wasn’t really much to do on this end. After all, wasn’t the kidnapper in Richmond, Virginia? Yet, they must have been of the same impression he and Sara were—the kidnapper had a tie to the mayor. They’d be ripping apart every aspect of his life, exposing any skeleton that may exist in his proverbial closet.
Sean’s thoughts went to the list the mayor had given them. It was likely that law enforcement was exhausting the same leads, but he and Sara were asked to help because they worked outside the typical parameters.
“Sean and Sara? What are you guys doing here? You missed us, didn’t you?” Officer Salone was at the front desk, a man of twenty-five, single, with no desire of settling down. He and Sean had gone out for beers a time or two, and, while they hadn’t really connected as close friends, th
ere was nothing sour between them.
“Yeah, no. We rather like our freedom,” Sean said with a smile.
“From what I hear you haven’t had much downtime though.” Salone’s blue eyes skipped between Sean and Sara. They were mining for more information, juicy tidbits from beneath the surface. Sean identified it as an effort to get insider information to feed the rumor mill. Cops made excellent gossipers. When neither of them offered fodder, Salone smiled at Sara. “Beautiful as always.”
She smiled back at him. “We were hoping to speak to Jimmy.”
“Jimmy, huh? You guys all close now? I bet you are.” Salone was grinning. “He’s here, but I assume you’ve heard about the mayor’s daughter? It’s been all over the news.”
“Still fishing, aren’t you? Not enough going on these days, Salone?” Sean smirked.
“Actually, no. It’s been rather uneventful since you two left, or nothing seems as big to talk about. How’s it going anyway?”
“Another time, we’ll have tea and biscuits, catch up.”
“Always the funny guy.” He jacked a thumb to Sean and said to Sara, “Some things never change. He’s in his office.”
Sean rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and Jimmy looked up from a stack of papers on his desk. His eyes were bloodshot but they lit when he saw them.
“To what do I owe this honor?” He smiled, a half-hearted expression marred by exhaustion.
“Been a rough day, I take it.” Sean extended the bottle of scotch and then took a seat.
Sara sat beside him and he reached for her hand.
Jimmy eased back into the swivel chair, the leather protesting beneath his weight. He studied the bottle. “You think you can buy me off with Balvenie?” His eyes halted on the label. “Fifteen years old? This must have cost a fortune.”
“We thought it was a good start.” Sara beamed.
Jimmy smiled at her. “You have a way about you, Sara. You could wake up a dead man with that smile of yours.” He went serious as his gaze drifted to Sean. “I have a feeling you’re going to want me to earn this?” He lifted the bottle.
“Davenport’s daughter.”
“No, no way.” Jimmy placed the bottle on his desk. “You know I can’t provide you with anything about an open investigation. The chief would have my badge for that one. What are you guys now anyway, PIs?”
Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder Page 6
