Heart Break: An Isabel Swift Novel (The Isabel Swift Detective Series Book 1)

by MF Moskwik

  “A needle in a haystack,” sighs Izzy.

  Ed draws a grid over the circle in one-inch increments. “You could brute force it. Search all the houses, schools. Put up a perimeter, go block by block?”

  Jameson and Izzy look at one another. “Area’s too big, and we don’t know where to start looking. And even if we did get close, chances are, we’d spook him before we found him,” Izzy says.

  Jameson nods his head. “Also, we would be unable to rely on coordination or communication. Cell phone, computer, walkie-talkie—anything that uses a radio or ultra-high frequency can be rendered useless by our suspect.”

  Ed looks at them incredulously. “You gotta tell me, Iz? What is up with that?”

  Izzy shakes her head. “Sorry, Ed.”

  “Nope, that’s okay. I heard it’s classified.” Ed gestures at the map again. “Then a candidate approach. Is there some place that has meaning to your guy in this area?”

  Izzy closes her eyes. “Tell me again, what’s there. Jameson?”

  He leans in toward the map. “Three libraries. A state park. His grandfather’s house. A wilderness area.”

  “Ed?”

  “Churches. Houses. Schools.”

  A small, insistent buzz pings Izzy’s consciousness. “Schools?” she asks as she opens her eyes.

  “Um, yes. An elementary school. Preschools. Another elementary school. Two middle schools. Two high schools.”

  “Which ones?” Izzy asks.

  Ed looks at the map and pulls out his smartphone. “Briargate and Willow’s Ridge. I’m on it.”

  Jameson looks at them quizzically. “Officer?”

  “His mother said that even though he dropped out of college, in high school, he had friends. Was part of clubs. Liked his teachers.” Izzy sighs impatiently. “Here’s a kid, growing up, loved by his folks, does great in school, all the way through high school, and then, he goes to college, but makes a mistake. Gets caught doing drugs, and then shit falls apart. He feels lost, but his mom turns her back on him, and his grandfather is so full of bitterness and hate, that that’s all he can give. So what does someone who’s lost and looking for direction do?”

  “Find a compass?” asks Jameson.

  “And for a kid who’s lost all his family, that compass is probably . . .?”

  “A teacher,” answers Jameson.

  “Or in Robert’s case, a math club, computer club, or AV club teacher,” finishes Izzy. “You got that, Ed?”

  “Heard you, Officer Swift. And I found him, here,” he says as he hands his smartphone to the pair. “Briargate High School, just north of the state park. One Robert Lennox graduated from there in 2006, with honors, and participated in three clubs—math club, computer club, and—”

  “The AV club,” finishes Jameson.

  Ed touches the tip of his nose with his finger. “Bingo.”

  Izzy hands Ed back his phone, grasps his shoulders, and plants a small kiss on his cheek. “You’re the man, Ed.”

  The short, olive-skinned man blushes violently from his neck to his hairline. “Anything for you, Iz.” He shuffles his feet and nods his head toward the IT room. “Well, I gotta be getting back.”

  Jameson nods. “Thank you, Mr. Long.”

  “I hope you catch the guy!” Ed calls over his shoulder as he races from the room.

  Jameson looks inquisitively at Izzy. “Officer Swift—”

  “We don’t have time, Jameson.”

  “But Isabel—”

  “Later.” She pulls her cell phone from her pocket and punches a few keys. The phone gives a small blip, and she pulls her keys from her pocket. “Briargate High School is ten miles from here. If we’re lucky, we can make it before the end of the school day and talk to his former teachers, see if they know anything.”

  Chapter Twenty

  They’re here.

  It’s too late for me to wonder how they found me. They’re here. Inside.

  That woman and the man she’s with.

  I can’t go back. It’s hot, too hot. The cabin is full of police. I don’t look the same, I don’t, but if I go back, they’ll know it’s me, they’ll find out.

  Here, they don’t know. Nobody does. Nobody but Mr. Barry would know, and he’s—.

  What would you do, Mr. Barry?

  You’d probably tell me to take responsibility. You always did. ‘Science is about truth,’ you’d say. But I can’t. Not when what I’ve worked so hard for is so close.

  My end will come, and with it justice.

  Truth.

  One more day, just one more day.

  I can let them go. If they don’t find me, if they leave, I can let them go. They’re not involved. It wasn’t them. I don’t want to—

  But if they get too close, then what am I going to do?

  They can’t be here. They can’t find me. Not yet.

  Not yet. I’ll make sure of it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “So what is our plan exactly?” asks Jameson as he dodges a short young man hurtling himself down the sidewalk. “Pardon me, young man!”

  “Oh, sorry!” the young man calls over his shoulder. In five seconds, the young man catches up with an even shorter, smiling young woman and puts his arm around her.

  “Our plan, Jameson, is to talk to Robert’s former teachers, see if he ever talked about a place, a hangout around here where he would go,” replies Izzy as she dodges more teens as they exit the school.

  Izzy and Jameson reach the door. As she reaches for the door handle, the door flies open, and a dozen tall, muscled young men tumble out.

  Jameson is just able to fling himself out of the way of the group, but Izzy collides with the man in front and falls backwards.

  Jameson catches her.

  “Oh, sorry, ma’am. Are you all right?” the young man with green eyes and brown hair asks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “It’s all right, no harm done,” Izzy says as Jameson pulls her back to her feet.

  The young men push past them both and run out into the lawn.

  Jameson holds her arms and straightens her sleeves a bit. “Are you all right, Officer?”

  “Sure. Just a bump, no big deal,” Izzy says as she rights herself. Reflexively, she looks around her to see if anyone else is looking. Just students, doing their student thing, she thinks as she sees the young men and women talking in groups and walking toward busses.

  She turns to enter the building, but a figure she sees out of the corner of her eye stops her. “Jameson, there. Do you see him? He’s at my five, in the bushes. Average height and build. Bald. I think he’s staring at us.”

  Jameson continues to brush off her clothes but looks over her shoulders. “There is a man. He’s . . . it appears as if he’s looking over the façade, at the grounds. Perhaps a groundskeeper?”

  “Maybe.” Izzy turns slowly to look at the man without scaring him off. By the time she can scan the area, the man is gone. “Where did he go?”

  “Hmm?” asks Jameson.

  Izzy turns and finds Jameson standing close and staring at her, his dark blue eyes opened wide, as if he is startled. In that moment, Izzy feels a slight shiver go through her, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “Jameson.”

  “Officer Swift?”

  She leans in close and whispers in his ear. “I think we’re being watched.”

  ***

  A flash of the badge, two introductions, and a quick trip down a long hallway lead Izzy and Jameson to a large office.

  Izzy rings the bell on the desk, and a young woman with a long brown ponytail appears.

  “Hi, I’m Jackie. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Officer Isabel Swift with the Westchester SD. This is my partner, Mark Jameson. We’d like to speak to the principal and were told to come here.”

  “Yeah, sure, just a moment.” Jackie disappears into the office area behind the reception area.

  “Did you see him again?” Izzy asks Jameson quietly.
/>
  “No. You?”

  Izzy shakes her head. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  Jameson shakes his head. “Your captain told me the first day I met him that in order to succeed, the best use of my efforts would be to follow your direction in all things.”

  Izzy gives a rude, loud snort.

  “While I have not followed his imperative to the letter, I have learned, Officer Swift, in the two days I have worked with you, that you are an excellent officer. And while we may not agree in all things . . . “

  Another loud snort.

  “I have learned to trust in your good judgment. And in you.” Jameson leans in to speak quietly into her ear. “We will remember to ask about the person we saw when we speak to the principal this afternoon.”

  Izzy, stunned by his admission, gives him a shocked look. “Jameson, I—”

  Jackie reenters the room. “Hi again. Principal Meyer will see you now. Please follow me.”

  With a slight bow, Jameson allows Izzy to lead them both to the principal’s office.

  ***

  “Hi. I’m Principal Meyer. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Officer Swift with the Westchester SD. This is my partner, Mark Jameson. We were wondering if you could please tell us about a former student, Robert Lennox?” Izzy pulls out her cell phone, taps it a few times, and hands the cell phone to the principal.

  “When did he graduate?”

  “Eight years ago,” Izzy replies.

  The tall, thin woman with sandy brown hair and kind eyes shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Officer, then I wouldn’t have known him. I’m relatively new to Briargate. I started as vice-principal halfway through last year, just before the former principal, Mr. Harold Barry, retired.”

  “And then he retired, and you became Principal,” confirms Izzy.

  Principal Meyer nods. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Would you happen to know how to get in contact with Principal Barry? We’d like to find out who the former teachers of Robert Lennox were and talk to them to see if they remember anything about Robert.”

  “Well, of course, we could pull Robert’s records and find his teachers, but I’m afraid Mr. Barry passed away earlier this year.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. When did he pass away?” asks Izzy.

  “About six months ago, I’m sorry to say,” Principal Meyer says. She leans over to her intercom and presses a buzzer. “Jackie?”

  “Yes, Dr. Meyer?”

  “Please would you mind coming here for a moment?” asks the principal.

  “I’ll be right there,” Jackie responds over the crackle of the speaker.

  “I’ll have Jackie pull his file and write down his teachers. If they’re still here, you are more than welcome to talk to them, and I can have Jackie show you where they all are.”

  “That would great. Thank you, Dr. Meyer,” replies Izzy.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do much. I hope that helps. If there’s anything else I can do, please let me know.”

  “Absolutely, Dr. Meyer,” Izzy says.

  A ‘snick’ from the door as it opens, and Jackie steps into the room. “Yes, Dr. Meyer?”

  “Hi, Jackie. Please would you help Officer Swift and her partner with their task? They will need to speak to the teachers of a student, Robert Lennox, who graduated in . . .?

  “2006,” replies Izzy.

  “2006. After you pull the files, when they have the information, if you have time, would you please be so good as to help them find the teachers they wish to speak with?”

  “Sure, Dr. Meyer,” responds Jackie.

  Dr. Meyer smiles at the young woman. “Perfect. Thank you, Jackie. Will there be anything else, Officers?”

  Jameson nods. “Yes, please. I was wondering whether a man, average height, slender build, bald, happened to be in the employ of your school? I saw someone in the yard earlier, and he seemed to be neither student nor parent. Is he a teacher?”

  Dr. Meyer smiles. “Ah, I see. And he has a rather intense demeanor, perhaps?”

  Jameson nods.

  “That’s Mr. Lipton. Richard Lipton, our handyman. He repairs and fixes things around the school. Plumbing, electric, light construction. Even computer repair.”

  “Is he new to Briargate High School?” asks Jameson.

  Dr. Meyers shakes her head. “No. He’s been here for two years, or so I’m told. He came just before I arrived. The former principal, Mr. Barry, hired him.”

  Jameson and Izzy give each other a look. “Yes, well, thank you, Principal Meyer.”

  “Thank you, Officers. Now if you will follow Jackie, please?”

  “Absolutely. And thank you again for your time,” replies Izzy as they leave the office.

  ***

  An hour later, Jackie, Izzy, and Jameson have spoken to only two of Robert’s former teachers, but none have been able to remember much about him or give them any useful information.

  Izzy looks at her watch. “4:37. Is there anyone else that you think we could talk to, Jackie?”

  The young woman shrugs, and her long brown hair slips over the curve of her shoulder with the gesture. “Not really. Drama, band, and football are pretty much the only activities going on now, but Mr. Allen, Mr. Perry, and Coach Kearney weren’t on your list.”

  “And what about computer club, math club, or AV club?” asks Jameson.

  “AV club disbanded five years ago. Computer club and math club still go on, but they don’t meet today, and those teachers have gone home. And anyway, those teachers weren’t on the list anyway.”

  “Do you know who the math club and computer club sponsors were, previously?” asks Izzy.

  “Well, Mr. Barry was the computer club sponsor, but he became principal, and then he passed away. Mrs. Fiero, the math club teacher, switched schools and moved to the other side of town when she got married, and Mrs. Smith, the AV teacher, retired. I think she moved to Florida, is what I heard.”

  Izzy sighs. “Well, that’s it then.” She hands the schedule cards back to Jackie. “Thanks for taking us around. We really appreciate your time.”

  “No problem. I’ll return these to the office and head home now, if that’s okay?”

  “Yes, Jackie. And please thank Principal Meyer for us,” says Izzy.

  Jackie nods and begins to walk back to the office, leaving Izzy and Jameson behind. Before she is out of earshot, Jameson stops her. “Miss Jackie?”

  “Yeah? Sorry!” she stops and turns and starts to walk back to them.

  “A Mr. Richard Lipton. Where may we find him?”

  “Room 196, on the first floor. He’s got a workshop there, but it’s usually locked by this time. I could take you to it?”

  Jameson nods and waves his goodbye. “Thank you, Miss Jackie, we will find it ourselves. Have a good evening.”

  As Jackie smiles and walks away, Jameson takes Izzy by the arm, “Now, Officer Swift, we shall see what the product of your good judgment is to be.”

  “I told you, Jameson, it was just a feeling.”

  “Of a very experienced officer of the law,” he retorts as they traverse the hallway. “184. 188. 192.”

  “196.” They stop in front of a broad set of double doors, held shut by a lock.

  Izzy knocks on the door. “Mr. Lipton?” She knocks again. “Richard Lipton?” After a few moments, she leans away from the door. “Not here.” She checks her watch. “4:52. Look, Jameson, I think it’s a dead end. None of the teachers he was close with are still here, and the ones that are here don’t remember much about him. Not that I blame them—seven classes a day, forty students a class, eight years ago? Hell, I don’t even remember all the kids in my class when I was a kid.”

  “Hmm?” Jameson asks. “Officer Swift, did you look at this name plate?”

  Izzy nods. “Yes. Richard Lipton. What about it?”

  “Just . . . something. Did Robert have a friend with that name? A relative?”

  “No.” Izzy pulls out her notebook
and goes through her notes. “Maybe he was a cadet at the academy? With Aaron?”

  “Perhaps. A line of inquiry to investigate this evening.” Jameson blinks twice and turns to her. “Then what would you suggest as our next course of action, Officer Swift?”

  She sighs. “Credit cards. Tip line. We keep the flag on his credit cards, so that if he tries to buy something, we’ll know about it. We use the tip line so if someone sees something, we’ll know about it. DMV doesn’t have a license plate for him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a car.”

  “Only that if he did have a car, that it would be unregistered. Then also, perhaps, an alert for all methods of mass transit, so that if young Mr. Lennox tries to leave the area, he will be unable to do so.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Izzy agrees. Together, Jameson and Izzy turn and walk away from the workshop. “I’m sorry, Jameson, I thought I was onto something.”

  “Fear not, Officer Swift. I believe our efforts may yet yield fruit before the day is done,” he says as he leads her out of the school.

  As Izzy and Jameson exit the hallway, the sounds of their footsteps quiet, leaving behind only emptiness and silence.

  And the quiet ‘snick’ of a lock as it opens.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  RING! RING! RING!

  “Isabel.”

  “Officer Swift. It is Mark Jameson.”

  “Jameson. I wasn’t expecting your call.”

  “Any news?” he asks.

  Isabel sighs. “No. No hits on the cards or on mass transit. Tip line had a few calls, but nothing solid.”

  “And Captain Williams?”

  She sighs again. “He suggested we keep tracking the cell phone pings and the credit flags, so I talked with Ed, and we waited for pings and credit flags all night. Nothing.”

  “I see. So either we’re incredibly unlucky or . . . ?”

  Izzy shakes her head. “Or he knows we’re onto him.”

  “Is that possible?” asks Jameson.