by Jean Martino
Linda’s heart started racing. What special assignment? For what newspaper? How could she find out who and what she was working on? “Is that all she said about it?” she asked.
“That’s all I remember,” said Beth Ann, obviously upset to think something could have happened to her best friend.
Promising to keep in touch and let her know if anything eventuated, Linda hung up and called Melanie. Melanie told her the same story about their farewell dinner. When Linda asked about what Beth Ann had said Cindy had told them, Melanie said she didn’t remember that but perhaps it was something said when she was in the ladies room. She was pregnant again and her bladder worked overtime, she laughingly explained. Then she, like Beth Ann, expressed deep concern over the disappearance of their best friend and Linda promised her also to keep in touch if anything came up.
Her last call was to Jessica in Australia.
“Linda!” Jessica cried, her voice on edge. “We’ve been worried sick about you and Cindy and Michael. After what you told me last night I couldn’t sleep thinking about it. What are you going to do? Are the police looking for them? What does Scott think about it all?”
“At this point Scott and I are taking it one step at a time. He knows what needs to be done and I am doing all I can to help him.”
Jessica seemed to have settled down a bit at the calmness in Linda’s voice. “Damn it, Linda,” she said quietly, “I can’t believe this is happening. But it’s good that Scott is helping you. Can I ask a stupid question?”
“He’s wonderful,” said Linda, knowing what Jessica wanted to ask. “Everything I expected and more. He’s at his son’s house now collecting his clothes and stuff and is moving in here with me till we solve this problem. He stayed here last night and told me he wasn’t going to let me do this alone.”
“I’m glad,” said Jessica, knowing that to ask too many more questions at this time would cause Linda embarrassment and that’s the last thing she wanted to do right now. But from the sound of Linda’s voice when she talked of Scott it was obvious that something very deep was happening to her sister. “I’ve been by your house every day and watered the plants and checked the mail. Had delivery of your newspapers stopped. No mail except a few advertisements. I know you get all your bills paid automatically through the bank but wanted to clean out all that junk from your mailbox anyway. I told your neighbors, both sides, you’d be away for a while so they are keeping their eye on things too. Oh and you forgot to take your mobile.”
“I know,” laughed Linda. “They call them cell phones here and I bought one last night with a new number for it and a pager, so write down this number.”
“Got it,” said Jessica. “I brought your mobile phone home here in case Cindy calls, and I’m checking your answering machine every day too, and I’ll go into AOL and check your emails, so we have all bases covered at this end.”
“Thanks so much, sis,” said Linda, feeling deeply touched at how wonderful everyone was being. “I really am grateful. I called two of Cindy’s best friends and they were surprised to learn what had happened.” Then she heard a car pull into the driveway and she hurriedly walked over to the window still holding the phone to her ear. “Scott just arrived back,” she said. “Jessica I am okay. I promise you. There’s no need to worry about me. Scott is taking good care of me. We’ll be driving to San Diego later to look at the car they’ve impounded. You can still call Cindy’s home number and leave a message. We have a tape in the answering machine now, and with my new cell phone I will be contacting you as often as time permits. Take care, love, and talk later.”
Hanging up, she opened the front door and saw Scott talking to the man two houses away. Closing the door again she hurried upstairs to check herself in the mirror, biting her lip to stop from smiling at her sudden rush of insecurity about her looks. The summer weather had her dressing in tan pants with a white blouse that she tucked inside the belt line. She was wearing tan flat shoes expecting to do some walking wherever they went and there was a light in her eyes that she hadn’t seen there for a very long time now.
Suddenly her body gave a jerk. She gasped, her hands clenching into fists. Was she out of her mind? She was here to find Cindy and Michael. What happened last night between her and Scott was some kind of chemical reaction brought about by their physical attraction to each other. She couldn’t allow it to take over; she had to start concentrating on her real reason for being there. And this was not it... this was definitely not it.
“Linda! Are you upstairs?”
Her heart leaped at the sound of his voice. “Yes!” she called back. “I’ll be right down.”
CHAPTER 6
Scott had deposited his hang up clothes bag and a smaller bag in the living room when she came down. He kissed her quickly on her forehead then told her what the neighbor had told him.
“He said it was very early the morning that he’d seen Cindy and Michael leaving the house. The sun wasn’t even up yet and the street lights were still on. He said it was around 5 am and they seemed to be in a hurry, almost running from the house with suitcases that they tossed into the trunk. They drove off in the other direction to his house and he watched them turning the corner and then went inside himself.”
Linda could feel something squeezing her heart like a vice. Why would they leave that early in the morning and in such a hurry? Were they running from someone? “It doesn’t sound good, does it,” she said, her eyes expressing her fear.
He just shook his head. “Before we head down to San Diego I think we should go by Michael’s office and talk to his boss. Give me a second to take these things upstairs.”
“Yes,” she said, collecting her purse like an automaton and waiting till he ran back downstairs, then following him to the door.
He saw how upset she was but didn’t know what to say to make her feel better so he locked the door behind them and they drove off in his car, neither of them speaking until they reached the Newport Beach offices of McLean’s Investments Inc.
On the third floor they stepped off the elevator into the gold carpeted reception area, where black wooden tables piled high with glossy business magazines separated black leather couches and chairs. The blond haired receptionist looked up from behind her semi circular black wooden desk and smiled a greeting at them, her red lips parting to reveal perfect white teeth in her heart shaped golden skinned face. “Good morning. May I help you?”
“We’d like to speak to Mr. Anthony Wainwright,” Scott said. “This lady is Michael Brampton’s mother-in-law who has just flown in from Australia, and I’m Detective Walker from the Sacramento police department.”
The young woman’s smile quickly vanished. “I’ll see if he is in,” she said, then stood up, smoothing her short tight black skirt and stepping quickly around the desk on black stiletto heeled shoes before disappearing through a door at the back of the reception area.
Scott wondered why she couldn’t have used the intercom as he and Linda sat down and waited. Had she been thrown off by the fact he was a law enforcement officer? He glanced sideways at Linda who had picked up a magazine and was pretending to read it. Her face looked strained. She seemed to be fighting to keep her emotions under control. She must be going through hell, he thought, with all this mystery surrounding Michael and Cindy’s whereabouts.
A few minutes later, a short middle aged man dressed in a dark gray suit came into the lobby and walked over to them.
“I’m Anthony Wainwright,” he said, “president of McLean’s Investments Inc. How can I help you?”
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” asked Scott.
“Of course, please come this way.”
They followed him into a wood paneled room where a very long table was surrounded by 12 chairs; a wet bar packed into the corner with a coffee machine and glass shelves containing sparkling glasses and bottles of liquor. “Please have a seat,” he said pointing to the end of the table. “Can I get you some coffee or tea?”
> Scott and Linda both shook their heads. “No thanks,” Scott said.
Wainwright sat down, sensing that something serious was about to be presented to him. He just prayed Michael hadn’t done anything wrong with transactions that might involve either of these people. He didn’t know about the detective, but he did know that Michael did a lot of investing for his mother-in-law, but nothing seemed to be inappropriate in that.
“Mrs. Rossi,” said Scott, “was expecting her daughter, Cindy, to fly to Australia for a visit a week ago, but she never arrived and it seems as though she and Michael have just disappeared and no one knows where they are. We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on the situation.”
Wainwright’s face tightened but his blue eyes, peering from behind dark rimmed glasses, continued to stare unwaveringly at Scott. Scott detected the tightening of Wainwright’s facial muscles; doing a quick mental profile on the man. Probably late forties, he decided, intelligent, upper middle class, well educated, probably brow beaten by his wife and possibly two to three kids. But something about him didn’t sit right. Investment companies dealing in fast paced daily stock transactions required someone with nerves of steel, a dog eat dog type of personality, ruthless even, and ambitious. This man seemed too polite, his eye contact a bit too controlled. He would never have pictured him as being president of a company like McLean’s Investments. The man would definitely have a fragile side that, if he wanted to, he felt he could easily crack wide open. But that wasn’t why he was there, he reminded himself. This man would prove more helpful to him if he was allowed to continue thinking they trusted him to tell them what they needed to know.
Wainwright shook his head. “I’m surprised to hear that,” he said, his voice sounding as controlled as his facial expression. “All I can tell you is Michael came to me a week ago and said something had happened in the family, an emergency of some kind, and he needed an immediate two week leave of absence to check on it. He didn’t say where he was going or why.”
Scott glanced quickly over at Linda, seeing the strain she had been under the last week starting to show on her face. He waited a few seconds hoping she would speak, but when she didn’t he turned back to Wainwright. “We’re very concerned because no one seems to know where they are, and Linda’s daughter never called her mother to say her plans had changed. The police have found their car, abandoned but locked and with no visible signs of any problems, in the parking lot of a factory on the outskirts of San Diego. The company’s security guard had called the police who had it impounded.” He stopped; allowing Wainwright to grasp the significance of what he was saying, noticing his eyes were blinking more now, as though he was under pressure to maintain that steely stare. Then he added, “Mrs. Rossi has filed a Missing Persons Report on her daughter and son-in-law with the Newport Beach Police Department today.”
Wainwright was fighting for control, his mind desperately trying to absorb all Scott had told him. Dear God! Michael was the firm’s top producer and his clients included some very affluent and powerful people all across Orange County and further into other areas. If something had happened to him then it could prove costly to the firm. Roger McLean would have to be notified as soon as possible.
“I’m quite concerned to hear this,” Wainwright said, fighting to pull his thoughts together. “Michael has always been a real strength in our company. Is there any reason that you know of that could have caused either him or his wife, Cindy, who I have met and found to be an intelligent and lovely young woman, to have disappeared like this?”
“If we knew anything,” said Scott, detecting the slight wavering of the man’s eyes, the higher pitch in his voice despite its steadiness, “we would not be here talking to you about it. Unfortunately we are at a dead end and even the police can’t come up with anything. Cindy and Michael seem to have just vanished.”
Linda let out a gasp at his statement. “Mr. Wainwright, my daughter is missing and so is her husband. And a neighbor saw them a week ago at five in the morning hurriedly packing cases into their car and taking off and that’s the last anyone has heard of them. Michael’s car was found in San Diego. We are driving there when we leave here to check it out where it’s been impounded to see if we can find something the police overlooked, although that seems unlikely.” She paused and took a deep breath. “If there is something you aren’t telling us then I beg you, as a concerned mother, please tell us now.”
Wainwright shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes now on Linda. Still that same steadfast forced look, thought Scott. But now there was perspiration forming on the man’s upper lip.
“I can appreciate your concern, Mrs. Rossi,” he said, “but I assure you I am not holding back anything that might help you find your daughter and Michael. I am as concerned as you are at this turn of events. However there are some things that our firm holds confidential which I am sure you would appreciate, being one of our clients also.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Scott asked impatiently. “We haven’t even mentioned clients or confidential matters. All we wanted to know is why Michael would suddenly take a two week leave of absence and if somebody in the company has any information as to where he was going.”
“I understand perfectly what you are asking, Detective Walker,” said Wainwright stiffly. “I don’t know of anyone in the firm who was that close to Michael and would know anything. Michael had a very responsible position and didn’t have the time to concern himself with socializing during office hours. I can’t tell you anything more than I already have. If there was some way I could help you please rest assured I would do so.” He stood up, indicating the meeting was over.
Realizing the man was not going to allow himself to be interrogated further, Scott stood up and handed him his card with his cell phone number on it. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I would appreciate your calling me if you hear anything that can help.”
Wainwright took the card and shook hands with them again and walked out to the lobby with them. They walked to the elevator and pressed the button, not looking back, but once inside the elevator Scott said, “The man knows something but it’s gonna be damn hard getting him to talk. I’ll call Detective Grant and give him some feedback and see if he knows of another angle we could take with Wainwright.”
As soon as the elevator doors closed on Scott and Linda, Wainwright rushed back to his office and called a management staff meeting immediately. He could have kicked himself for not having kept up with Michael’s work. Michael had it all computerized in his own data base and he had asked for the password but Michael had kept putting him off. If necessary he would have to have one of their computer analysts try to break into Michael’s program and find out what the hell he had been doing. If McLean found this out it would mean his head on the chopping block and whatever Michael had gotten himself into he had no intention of getting in there with him.
* *
Scott drove the car onto the 405 freeway heading south towards San Diego. Linda had gone quiet, staring out the window and not speaking. It was only a forty minute freeway drive to San Diego but her mood was worrying him. She needed to pull herself together before they got there or seeing the car would totally destroy her.
He saw a Denny’s Restaurant sign off the freeway and exited, driving around till he reached their parking lot then parking the car. “We need to eat something,” he said quietly. “It’s been five hours since we had breakfast and we need to get some food in our stomachs.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said petulantly.
“I know you aren’t,” he replied. “But we have a lot more to do today and---”
“How can you expect me to eat at a time like this!” she cried. “You don’t seem to understand how worried I am about Cindy.”
“I do,” he said. “I’m trying to help.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she snapped at him. “It’s not your daughter gone missing. You can’t possibly understand what I’m feeling.”<
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He felt the sting of her rebuke then said quietly, “I’m going to grab a sandwich. If you change your mind then please come and join me.” He got out of the car and walked to the restaurant and inside he found a booth near a window where he could see the car. She was crying. He could tell. But right now he couldn’t reach her. She was pulling away and had to find her own way back to him. He knew the pattern from his own work on the force. He knew victim’s families lashed out at those who tried to help them because they felt so helpless not knowing what else to do to vent their anger. He had seen some police who had bent over backwards to help a victim’s family being hurled abuse at and having to take it knowing it was part of their job.
“Can I help you?” asked the waitress holding a pencil poised over her pad.
“Just coffee for now,” he said.
She walked away and he glanced again at the car. Linda was still sitting in it like she was in a trance. He felt her pain. Cindy and Michael were her whole family now that her husband was gone, and she was facing the realization that she might be losing them too. It was a hard thing to face, losing one’s family. He had known that feeling himself when he had come home from work that day, eleven years ago now, and found Jennifer in bed with another man. He had almost lost it then. Only a very thin string of sanity had kept him from killing the man, but he had smashed him up real good before kicking his ass out of his home.
