Vanished (Private Justice Book #1): A Novel

by Irene Hannon

  “Very.”

  She dug into her ice cream, flipped open her notebook, and filled him in while he jotted a few notes.

  When she finished, he leaned back in his seat. “An interesting picture is emerging that doesn’t quite jibe with the good doctor’s paragon-of-virtue public image. He’s short-tempered and distracted at home, estranged from his wife, and has been plagued with recurring nightmares in recent weeks. Plus, we have regular—almost predictable—infusions of capital to Let the Children Come from recently deceased residents of nursing homes he’s visited. That’s a bit too coincidental for my taste.”

  As his implications registered, Moira swallowed her mouthful of ice cream and exhaled. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “We also have a reference to a neighbor’s cabin, which the neighbor rarely uses.”

  “I wonder if it happens to be near Defiance?”

  “I’ve already made a note to check into that on Monday. The assessor’s office in St. Charles is closed until then. But I’m glad they mentioned the man’s name. That makes things easier.”

  “Okay.” She swiped at a drip of ice cream on the table with a paper napkin and furrowed her brow. “Here’s what I’m not getting. There are easier ways to solicit donations than targeting older people. Plus, none of those deaths apparently raised any red flags.”

  “No reason they should. The most recent two had chronic, deteriorating conditions. There would have been no autopsy if they died peacefully. And there are ways to make that happen.”

  The shiver that caused Moira’s fingers to tremble had nothing to do with the coldness of the ice cream.

  “Now we have an emergency situation at the clinic and an acute need for funds.” Cal tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. “That could trigger recurring nightmares for a lot of reasons—including the necessity of accelerating the timetable for a new infusion of dollars. The last donor only died in March.”

  Moira caught her breath. “You mean . . . someone might be in his sights right now? Assuming the ominous scenario we’re constructing is valid?”

  “That would be a logical deduction.”

  “Man, this is getting heavy.” She tapped the plastic spoon against the edge of the cardboard cup. “It’s also getting complicated. I mean . . . what does all this have to do with my vanishing young woman?”

  “I don’t know yet. I do, however, have a strong suspicion that Olivia Lange is missing. Let me tell you what I learned today.”

  As Cal recounted his visit to the aide’s duplex, Moira let the last couple of bites of her ice cream melt into a sticky pool in the bottom of her cup.

  “So it’s probable that Blaine and Olivia did know each other.” Moira set her spoon back in the cardboard container as Cal finished.

  “Well enough for Blaine to give her advice, it seems—if he’s the doctor the neighbor referenced. From what she said, they were on friendly terms.”

  “But the neighbor hasn’t seen her for a month, and the landlord is looking for her. Plus she quit her job for no reason.” Moira moistened her lips, not liking where this was going. “Do you think she might be the woman I saw on the road?”

  “That possibility occurred to me. But we have to consider the abusive boyfriend angle too. Maybe she did go back to him. I plan to check that out this weekend. In the meantime, though, I spoke with her landlord. He’s going back to Olivia’s place tomorrow to make another attempt to collect his rent. If no one answers the door this time, he plans to go in. I convinced him to let Dev meet him and do a walk-through. I’d do it myself, but the neighbor whose faucet I fixed would recognize me.”

  “What pretext did you use to get the landlord to cooperate?”

  “None. I told him we were PIs investigating a missing person case. He was happy to assist. I think he figures if we locate her, he might get his back rent.”

  “What are you hoping your partner finds on this walk-through?”

  “A toothbrush, preferably.”

  Moira frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I have a tooth. And I have a feeling the DNA might match.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “You lost me. You have a tooth?”

  “I never mentioned it, because I didn’t think it would lead to anything. After you came to the office the first time, Dev and I took a drive out to the accident site and gave it a thorough going-over. I found a tooth. As Dev pointed out, it could have been from a kid who fell off his bike, or an animal. It still might be, but I think it’s worth checking to see if we have a DNA match between it and a personal item of Olivia’s—assuming we can’t locate her in the next twenty-four hours.”

  She chewed at her lower lip. “This whole thing has gotten a lot more involved than I expected when I first came to you for help—and it’s taking you away from your billable clients.”

  “It’s also an intriguing case.”

  His reassurance was kind, but Moira knew the work he and his colleagues were doing for her was costing the firm money. Maybe she could pitch in, as she’d done today with the doctor’s wife.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He regarded her in silence as he mulled over her offer. “I might do a little informal surveillance on the doctor this weekend. Probably on Sunday. If you don’t have anything else going on, I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  He wanted to spend more time with her.

  That was unexpected.

  Moira’s spirits took a decided uptick.

  “Just church in the morning, but I can be flexible on that. I think the Lord would forgive my absence, given we’re working to bring about justice.” The pleasure of his company was a bonus.

  Or so she told herself, even if God saw through that excuse.

  “Why don’t I give you a call once I get a better handle on my schedule?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “If you’re ready to call it a night, I’ll walk you out.”

  She gathered up her purse and notebook and stood. “You know, one of these days I’ll have to meet these partners of yours so I can thank them for all their work on this case too.”

  “I’ll thank them for you.” He motioned her out the door, then flipped off the light behind them as they exited into the hall.

  “You don’t want me to meet them?” She tossed the question over her shoulder as they walked toward the lobby.

  “Nope. Especially Dev.” He leaned past her to open the door to the reception area. Giving her another whiff of that toe-tingling aftershave he always wore.

  “Why not?”

  The security door clicked shut behind them as he followed her toward the entrance.

  “He thinks you’re hot.”

  She cast a startled look at him as she reached the entry, uncertain how to respond.

  Cal grinned at her and opened the front door. “And for the record, I saw you first.”

  Was that a backhanded way of letting her know he was interested in more than a business relationship? That as much as he’d loved his wife, he was ready to move on? Or was he just engaging in some lighthearted flirting, the way a lot of guys did?

  As he watched her, Cal’s lips flattened. “Sorry. That remark came out of nowhere—and it wasn’t very professional. I don’t usually slip like that. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He thought she was offended?

  She needed to clear that up. Fast.

  “I’m not offended in the least. I’m flattered—and hopeful.” If he could be honest, she could too. “The fact is, I’ve enjoyed our interaction. If that leads to a more . . . personal . . . relationship after this case is finished, I’d be very open to that.”

  For a long moment he studied her, faint furrows etching his brow as he gripped the edge of the open door. Then he reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and shifted his gaze to a large, mounted photo of a stunning sunset on the far wall.

  “Did I ever tell you my wife was a photographer?”

>   Moira scanned the landscapes and still lifes she’d noticed on her first visit. They were similar in style to the ones in Cal’s office and his home and all were imbued with a distinct personality. She could almost feel the presence of the woman he’d loved as she examined them.

  He obviously felt the same way.

  She fought down a flutter of disappointment.

  “No. I assume these are hers?”

  “Yes. She was very talented—in many ways.” He looked back at her. “It’s been hard letting her go.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “But she also believed in enjoying today and leaving yesterday in the past. I want you to know that since I met you, I’ve been working on adopting that philosophy. I’m not there yet . . . but I’m finally moving in the right direction.”

  The warmth and sincerity in his eyes tempered her sudden melancholy—and restored her hope.

  “For the record”—she smiled as she borrowed his earlier phrase—“I’m a very patient person. As some sage once said, good things are worth waiting for.”

  “Now I’m the one who’s flattered.”

  A breeze from the open door behind him wafted that appealing scent her direction again as he looked down at her, and it was all she could do not to reach up and brush her lips over his.

  Judging by the sudden darkening of his irises, and the abrupt step he took away from her, the same thought had crossed his mind.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

  She swallowed and held on tight to the strap of her purse. “Okay. Thanks for staying late tonight to meet with me.”

  “Not a problem.” He touched her arm as she turned away, and she swiveled back toward him. “I think we’re making progress . . . on a lot of fronts.”

  Her pulse accelerated as his fingers warmed her skin. “Me too.” The words came out in a slight squeak, and she cleared her throat. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush, Moira tried to get herself back under control as she crossed the street. She was a grown woman. Thirty-three years old. Way past the infatuation stage. This kind of reaction was ridiculous.

  Yet when she paused beside her car and looked back, her heart wasn’t listening. In defiance, it did the oddest little skip as Cal raised his hand in farewell and sent her a slow, appreciative smile.

  Man, did she have it bad.

  With a quick wave of her own, she slipped into the car, shoved the key in the ignition, and started the engine.

  At least her feelings weren’t one-sided.

  She cast one final glance in the rearview mirror before she turned the corner. Cal remained standing by the door, one shoulder propped against the frame, arms folded over his chest. Watching her.

  Perhaps wishing the evening hadn’t ended quite so early, as she was?

  Still, he’d opened the door to tomorrow. That was a plus—and one more incentive to wrap up the case of the vanishing woman with the terrified eyes as soon as possible.

  They were close too. She could feel it. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to turn up. Some were fitting together, and despite the gaps, a shocking picture was beginning to emerge. One that sent an icy ripple through her. If their reasoning was sound . . . if Blaine was involved in some sinister, macabre game . . . this could get messy very fast. Maybe even dangerous.

  That was scary.

  But Cal and his colleagues were up to the challenge. She had no doubt of that. And once they’d compiled sufficient evidence, they’d hand it off to law enforcement for the cleanup.

  In the meantime, she had a surveillance gig with Cal to look forward to.

  A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she flipped on her turn signal. Funny. She had a feeling that of all the dates she’d ever gone on, the evening she’d spent sorting through trash with Cal and the hours she’d spend sitting in a car with him on Sunday doing nothing would end up ranking among the most memorable.

  And someday, if all went well, she’d tell him that.

  16

  As Cal fired the last round in his magazine and lowered his compact Sig Sauer, someone tapped his shoulder.

  He turned. Dev, also sporting ear protection and safety glasses, checked out the paper target positioned at fifteen meters, gave a thumbs-up, then inclined his head toward the exit.

  After slipping the pistol into the concealed holster on his belt, Cal retrieved his target, picked up the case holding his full-sized Sig, and followed his partner toward the door, dumping the target in a trash bin as he passed. Dev must have found something interesting during his reconnaissance at Olivia’s duplex this morning if he’d bothered to track him down at the shooting range.

  Once inside the small buffer room that separated the shooting area from the gun shop, Dev glanced over his shoulder to make certain the door had closed behind them, then pushed through the second door, into the shop.

  Cal followed, sliding his ear protection to the back of his neck as he removed his safety glasses. “What’s up?”

  Shucking his own safety equipment, Dev gestured toward a quieter corner in the store and led the way over to it. “I had an interesting morning. It seems your friend Olivia has, indeed, vanished.”

  A spurt of adrenaline tripped Cal’s pulse up a notch. “What did you find?”

  “A pile of mail on the floor under the slot in the front door. Moldy bread in the cupboard. Sour milk in the refrigerator, dated to expire three weeks ago. The oldest postmark I could find on the mail was April 14.”

  “The day before Moira saw the woman on the road.”

  “Uh huh. I also got this.” Dev fished a kraft-colored evidence envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “The requested toothbrush.”

  “Any problem with the landlord?”

  “Nope. He was very impressed with my PI license. Not to mention my suave and professional demeanor.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” Cal shot him a wry look as he set his pistol case on an empty shelf. After pulling a pen out of his pocket, he initialed the envelope, adding date and time. “I’m going to run this and the tooth by the lab this afternoon.”

  “I thought that might be your plan.” Dev reached into his pocket and withdrew another envelope. “I swung by the office and picked this up.”

  “Thanks.” Cal took it, dating and initialing that envelope as well.

  “I’ve got more for you too. Olivia paid her first month’s rent and deposit with a credit card. The landlord was kind enough to share the number and expiration date with me.”

  “Seriously?” Cal slipped both envelopes into his pocket. That was an unexpected bonus.

  “Hey . . . I told you I was smooth. Anyway, I checked out the number with one of our information brokers. The last charge was from a Walgreens on April 15.”

  “I owe you for this.”

  “I’ll add it to your tally.” He cocked his head back toward the range. “Let’s hope you don’t need to use your stellar shooting skills in Mexico.”

  “I’m with you. We’re discussing strategy for the trip on Monday, right?”

  “That’s the plan, as far as I know. Connor’s still gathering intel and connecting with the Mexican consulate, but he says he’ll have it together by then. Are you hanging around for a while?”

  Cal checked his watch. “Nope. I was wrapping up when you got here. Thanks for making a special trip.”

  “No problem. I need to get in a little practice myself before we head south of the border. When you mentioned yesterday you were coming here, I decided to add some practice to my weekend agenda too.”

  “Are you expecting trouble on the trip?”

  “I hope not. But I’d rather be prepared. You need me to do anything else on the vanishing woman case? Maybe talk to your friend Moira? See if my stellar interrogation skills can ferret out any new information she might have forgotten about that rainy night?” Dev grinned and winked.

  “Forget it.”

  “Spoil sport
.”

  “Go practice your shooting.”

  “I’d rather practice another skill.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “That’s why Moira is off-limits.”

  “Getting proprietary, aren’t we?”

  Cal pulled his ear protection off his neck and ignored that comment. “Listen, I need to borrow the Explorer tomorrow morning. For work reasons.”

  “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  “So are you. Let’s talk about the Explorer.”

  “You know I hate the van.” Dev grimaced and huffed out a breath. “Good thing I don’t have any social activities planned for the day. At least I’ll have the Explorer tonight. My date thanks you.” He gave a mock bow. “So what are you doing tomorrow morning?”

  “Surveillance on our humanitarian of the year. All day, in fact. I’m switching vehicles with Connor around noon so Blaine doesn’t get suspicious. If you want the Explorer back before Monday, set up a swap with him.”

  “Nah. I’m just going to finish up some case notes tomorrow and veg. Better than surveillance, though. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Crack investigator that he was, Dev homed right in on that comment. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I plan to have some pleasant company.”

  His partner appraised him. “You’re taking Moira along?”

  “Why not? Like you said, it should be quiet—but it’s possible we might discover some worthwhile information.”

  “And if you don’t, you’ll have spent the Sunday with a hot chick. I like that angle. It’s a win-win.”

  Cal sent him a watch-your-step look. “It’s not an angle. And she’s not a chick.”

  A few beats of silence ticked by as Dev appraised him. “Sorry. I’m sure she’s a very nice woman. She must be, to lure you out of your self-imposed social exile. And all kidding aside, I’m glad. It’s about time you rejoined the land of the living.” He slipped his safety glasses back on, his brief serious mood evaporating. “You want to swing by my place tomorrow morning and exchange vehicles? It may be a late party night, and I was planning to sleep in.”