by Midge Bubany
“His mom is worried he’s either sick or injured. I’ll see if I can get hold of his wife and suggest a neighbor check the house.”
“Good idea,” Halberg said. “Mrs. Hawkinson can always call or email me if she wants us to go in on a welfare check.”
“I’ll let her know.”
I then called Ames back to ask for Cat’s cell phone number. With great annoyance in his voice, he said, “Just a minute.” He didn’t put me on hold; maybe he doesn’t know how. I could hear fumbling and grunting until he finally read off the number.
“Thank you kindly, sir.”
He hung up without saying goodbye. What a knob. You’d think he’d be a little concerned for his daughter’s husband.
After five rings, Cat answered. I could barely hear her what with music blasting and people talking and laughing in the background.
“Cat, sorry to bother you on vacation,” I said.
“Just a minute. I can’t hear you because I’m right under the speaker at the pool.”
The music faded slightly. “Okay, so what were you saying?”
“Cat, this is Cal Sheehan.”
“Oh… hi. What’s up? ”
“I’m calling because no one has heard from Hawk… ah, Michael… in a few days. He hasn’t shown up for work, and I was wondering when you’ve last heard from him.”
“I haven’t talked to him since I left Minneapolis. I’m in Playa del Carmen and these international calls are way out of network, so we agreed not to call each other.”
And yet you have your phone by your side?
“Emailing each other?” I asked.
“No.”
“When did you leave on vacation?”
“A week ago yesterday. You say he hasn’t been at work?”
“He was expected back on Tuesday, and since it’s been over seventy-two hours since anyone has heard from him, the Eden Prairie Police Department did a walk around, but couldn’t get inside. Do any of your neighbors have a key? They could go check the house.”
“I don’t trust any of our neighbors with a key.”
“Well then, Eden Prairie PD would be willing to enter the house, maybe check his credit cards to see if there’s any activity. I’ll give you Sergeant Halberg’s phone number, so you can call him directly to give him your permission and security code.”
“Just a minute.”
I heard her ask someone if she could borrow a pen and paper.
“Okay, what is the sergeant’s number?”
After I gave her the number, she said, “Wait. Is this Barb’s doing? My God that woman pushes me over the edge sometimes!” She then must have put her hand over her phone because I heard a muffled, “Could I have another of these. Thanks.”
“You don’t seem too concerned, Cat.”
“Not really, no. I’ll call Michael to let him know he’s got Barb’s panties in a bunch.”
Nice.
“Good idea,” I said, “but regardless, you should call Sergeant Halberg.”
“I’m worried if I allow the police to go into the house, they’ll let Romeo out.”
“Romeo?”
“My kitty.”
“Tell Halberg about Romeo.”
“This is crazy. You know that, right?”
“Maybe so, but it’d make me feel better knowing something bad hasn’t happened to my best friend too.”
I was hitting below the belt, using the sympathy card.
“Oh… oh… of course. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
I usually say a little more to most people—because most people care.
“Good to hear. It must be almost a year now?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you should be getting over it soon then.”
Wow. There are times when I think I haven’t been fair with Cat, and then she goes and says something thoughtless and proves my original impression correct. After Hawk had first introduced her to me, he asked me what I thought of her. I looked him in the eye and told him to run. He laughed, but I was serious. It was too late. Hawk was in love with a praying mantis.
About a half hour later, I got a call from Ames. “You upset my daughter for absolutely no reason,” he growled.
“Oh. Have you heard from Hawk? I mean Michael?”
“Not exactly. Cat asked me to check on his credit card history, so I made some calls and found out he’s having a high old time on the company card in Vegas.”
What? “Really? That’s great. Thanks. Well, then, I’ll notify his parents.”
“Yeah, you do that. Did you call the cops?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then you call them back and let them know you sent them out on a wild goose chase. Cat shouldn’t have to deal with your mess. By the way, if you talk to Michael, tell him he’s going to have some explaining to do about using the business card on a personal vacation.”
“So, where’s he staying in Vegas?”
“Hold on.”
When the shrill hold music came on, I held the phone a couple inches from my ear as I waited, and waited, and waited. I was starting to think he was screwing with me when Elaine came back on.
“Detective?”
“Yes?”
“Sorry it took so long. It took a little time to find out which Las Vegas property the charges were from. Anyway, Michael’s at the Flamingo.”
I thanked Elaine and promptly notified Halberg with Eden Prairie PD. He understood: In law enforcement, we frequently deal with missing persons reports, and in the great majority of cases, the person shows up unharmed.
When I called Barb Hawkinson, she said, “I’d be relieved except for the fact he didn’t mention anything whatsoever about going to Las Vegas.”
“Maybe it was a spur of the moment deal.”
“Cal, be honest, does this sound like Mike to you? To leave without telling a soul?”
I didn’t know what to say to that because he used to lie by omission to them all the time, so I said, “Maybe he just needed to get away from it all, not answering his phone on purpose.”
“Well, I doubt that. And remember he wanted to talk to you about something that was bothering him.”
“How about I do some more checking?”
The desk clerk at the Flamingo said Michael Hawkinson had checked in early Tuesday morning for an indefinite stay. “Indefinite” didn’t sound right. I left messages on his room phone and again on his cell. In Vegas, the chance of finding a guest in his room was slim, so I expected it’d be a while before he called me back.
Oh, Hawk. What are you up to? My imagination went crazy with possible scenarios. My first thought was he was having a fling, or decided to leave his marriage but neglected to tell his wife. Hawk liked to gamble more than I. Maybe he just decided to play while the Cat was away.
Chapter 2
May 16
Four days missing.
On Friday morning, I was eating breakfast with Henry and Lucy, when Hawk’s mom called to tell me she still hadn’t heard from him and asked what I found out.
“Nothing,” I said. “Like I told you yesterday, I left messages at the hotel, but he hasn’t returned my call.”
“Mine either. I just don’t get it. This isn’t like him at all.”
“I’ll try again and get back to you.”
“Who was that?” Clara asked when I ended the call.
“My friend Hawk’s mom.” I explained the situation.
“Well, if I were her, I’d be worried too. And why don’t they vacation together?”
“Good question. I guess it’s because he likes to hunt and fish, and she likes to lie by the pool and shop.”
“Kids these days.”
> First thing I did after signing in, was use the department phone to call the Flamingo, so whoever answered would see it was from Birch County Sheriff’s Department. In my mind, I was justified—Hawk was supposedly headed for my county before he disappeared.
After a brief explanation to a clerk, I was immediately transferred to the hotel day manager Fletcher Cook. After hearing me out, Cook said he’d get security to check Mr. Hawkinson’s room to make sure he was okay. He returned the call twenty minutes later.
“Mr. Hawkinson was not in his room, but his phone messages have been picked up. Also, I paged the hotel with no response. You do realize he could be anywhere in Vegas.”
“Yes, sir, I do. Thanks for your trouble.”
“No worries.”
This was weird. Hawk might avoid his mother’s calls, but why would he avoid mine? Unless—he was doing something for which he was ashamed. It would surprise me if he’d become a raging gambling addict, but then again I hadn’t hung out with him in years.
I called Cat back. She sounded sleepy.
“Did I wake you?”
“Um… yeah. What time is it?”
“Almost nine o’clock here.”
“Well then it’s almost nine o’clock here!”
Yeah, get snippy with me.
“Up and at ’em,” I said. I couldn’t resist. “Have you heard from Michael yet?”
“No.”
“Has he ever done this before?” I asked.
“Done what?”
“Gone off somewhere without telling you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Are you two okay? I mean… are you having any problems? Is there any reason he’d feel the need to get away?”
“No! We’re fine. He’s fine. And I’m officially pissed off that he flew off to Vegas without letting me know his change of plans.”
I apologized for waking her, then left another message on his phone telling him he was in big trouble, but I believe Cat will do an excellent job of letting her feelings be known.
May 17
Five days missing.
On Saturday, I had the twins by myself. They were a ton of work, so I paid the neighbor girl to come over and help out. Hillary Kohler was twelve and was very good with them.
It wasn’t until evening and the babies were finally in bed, that I had time to think about Hawk. What the hell was he up to all day that he couldn’t answer a message? I refused to leave yet another.
May 18
Six days missing.
Shannon was prompt in picking up the Twinks at noon on Sunday. I had them ready and helped her get them in their car seats in the Honda Pilot. Before she got into the driver’s seat she said, “Thanks for the Mother’s Day flowers. They were beautiful.”
“Glad you liked them.”
“You don’t have to do buy me gifts from the babies.”
“I wanted to. You’re a good mom, Shannon.”
“Well, thanks. Do you remember our couple’s counseling appointment next Thursday?”
“I do,” I said. I remember we had one, but not the day.
“When I met with Brett last week, he said he was going to suggest you and Luke meet alone again.”
I nodded. “Okay. How is Luke?”
“The same. I wish I knew what to do to help him get past this.”
“We’re doing what we can.”
“I don’t think forcing him to stay at your place is the answer.”
“No, he has to want a relationship with me.”
“I’m sorry, Cal. I’ve tried.”
“I understand.”
But I didn’t. I didn’t understand any of it—how our marriage went from being great to so intolerable she had to move out. And she wasn’t even wearing her rings anymore.
Sunday evening, Cat Hawkinson called me. Her voice was different—weak, shaky.
“Cal, I just got home and Michael isn’t here. And Romeo hasn’t been taken care of at all. Poor baby was starving.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expected before he took off to Vegas he would have stopped to feed Romeo and clean out the litter box. I expected he’d get his ass home before I got back from my trip. And his… his carry-on is here. So is his shaving kit. He wouldn’t just take off to Vegas without his luggage and his lucky shirt.”
“Wouldn’t he have taken his carry-on and shaving kit to his parents?”
“No, Barb has everything he needs up there, including clothes. By the way, she called to tell me if Michael isn’t home by tomorrow morning, she’s sending his cousin to Vegas to get him.”
“Really? Which cousin?”
“Sydney Dirkson. She and her husband own a private detective agency in Minneapolis. They were at the wedding—a tall good-looking couple? Sydney and Pete?”
“Can’t place them. Why don’t you go with her and surprise him?”
“I can’t leave Romeo again.”
“You should check with the airline to see if Michael has a return flight before Sydney flies all the way out there.”
“Good idea.”
Maybe now Cat would take this seriously. I found it interesting she wouldn’t go with Sydney because of Romeo.
Chapter 3
May 19
Seven days missing
Monday morning I’d been at my desk only a few minutes, when I received a call from Cat.
“Michael has no return tickets. What the hell does that mean? Is he going to live out there?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, charges are continuing to mount on the credit cards.”
“I suggest if you want your husband to come home, you should shut down the cards.”
“Maybe. Sydney is flying out to Vegas this afternoon.”
“Okay, can I have her number?”
Sydney Dirkson answered on the first ring. She said she remembered me from Mike’s wedding. “You were the handsome best man,” she said.
“I don’t know about handsome, but yes, I was his best man.”
“As I recall, you and my husband had a lengthy conversation about law enforcement? Pete was MPD before we bought the agency.”
“Oh, I do remember you both now—the beautiful woman in the sexy red dress,” I said, giving it back to her to see how she handled it.
“Oh, ha-ha. I’m never happy in a dress. I’d rather be in jeans.”
I laughed. “Well, you looked pretty fantastic that day. So, Cat told me you were headed to Vegas.”
“Yeah, this afternoon. My mom says Aunt Barb will be a basket case until someone sees and talks to Mike in person. She thinks I’ll be able to convince him to come home. Hey, maybe you should come with. You know Mike better than I do. Besides, I could use a muscleman in case I run into any trouble.”
“You’re expecting trouble?”
“Never know what I’m going to find. This isn’t like Mike not to answer his phone.”
“I tend to agree with you. Let me think about it, and I’ll give you a call back.”
I was tempted. It was Henry and Lucy’s week with Shannon, so my leaving wouldn’t be a problem, and I needed to use up some vacation days. I gave Clara a call at Shannon’s to let her know my tentative plans.
Without hesitation, she said, “You should go and not give it another thought. You haven’t taken so much as a long weekend break since I’ve been working for you. It’s time for you to get out and enjoy yourself.”
“This isn’t a vacation. This is to find my buddy who may have gone off the deep end.”
“Oh, I know. I’m just saying it’ll be good for you to get away, and don’t worry. I’ll get Bullet and bring him over here.”
“Thanks, Clara.”
I called Sydney Dirkson back to tell her I was in. She’d bought an open-ended ticket not knowing how long she would be in Nevada. I did the same and was able to get on the same flight for more money than I wanted to spend, made hotel reservations at the Flamingo, notified personnel I was taking vacation days, then went home to pack.
On my way out of town, I drove by Clifford Emerson’s shabby yellow stucco house with green trim. For the first week after Colby’s funeral, I watched his every move. He’d been put on leave until the legal issues were sorted out. Then one evening when I was parked a quarter block down the street from the Emerson’s house, Sheriff Clinton pulled up behind me. As she walked up to my truck, I rolled down my window.
The sheriff leaned in and said, “More than one resident on this block called with reports of a suspicious man in a red truck parked on their street. I wasn’t too surprised when we ran the plate and it was yours. I know what you’re doing, Cal. I believe the word is… let me think… stalking. You’re scaring Clifford Emerson’s neighbors more than him. If you don’t knock this off, I’ll personally make sure a restraining order is issued. Cal, you need to grieve properly. Get counseling. Take two or three months. I’ll grant both you and Shannon paid leaves. These aren’t suggestions.”
Shannon stayed home for two months after the accident to recover physically and emotionally, but after three weeks, I was back at work with the condition of mandatory counseling. At first, Shannon and I both had individual sessions, but as our marriage began to struggle from the weight of our grief, every other one was marriage counseling. I didn’t think it was helping. She moved out of the house right after Christmas, and I still wanted to shoot the bastard who killed Colby. Colby had been only seven at the time of his death and was such a cute little kid. We had a real connection, and before the accident Luke and I had started to bond. Bam! We splintered apart like we’d been disconnected with an axe. Brett, our therapist, says it just takes time after family traumas. I didn’t know if it could be fixed.
