Detective Wilkes reached into a drawer and pulled out a pad with forms on it. “Name of the person you suspect is missing?”
“Rebecca Jameson.”
“Date of birth?”
Jane answered. It took almost twenty minutes for him to take down the most rudimentary information. He seemed almost bored as he asked each question.
“So, Ms. Jameson was overwhelmed at work?”
I shook my head. “More like super busy. Becky doesn’t get overwhelmed.”
“Is there any other reason you can think of that would cause Ms. Jameson to want to disappear?”
“I don’t think she’d want to disappear. I think she met the person from eBay for me, and something went terribly wrong.”
“But the cash from the transaction was placed safely at your residence?”
“Yes.”
“And you did receive a text from Ms. Jameson?” he asked Jane.
She nodded. “Late Sunday afternoon. Here, I saved it.” Jane dug her phone out of her purse and scrolled through her text messages, then handed him the phone.
“Is this Ms. Jameson’s phone number?” he asked, pointing to the identifier at the top of the message where the date, time, and source of the text were listed.
“Yes.”
“And you received an e-mail?” he asked me.
“Uh-huh. And before you ask, yes, it was sent via Becky’s private e-mail account.”
“Ms. Jameson called her superior and informed him that she would be out for a week or more?”
I nodded. “You’re making it sound as if Becky chose to go missing.”
“It does seem that way. A lot of adults opt to disappear.”
“Wouldn’t she take clothes and toiletries?” I argued.
“Maybe she planned on buying new when she arrived at her destination.”
“What about the fact that one of the partners at my firm went missing nearly two weeks ago?”
“Again, that woman communicated her intention to quit her job, correct?”
“Correct. But that doesn’t mean the two things aren’t related,” I said.
“Do you have any reason to think the two women are together?”
“Becky isn’t a lesbian, if that’s what you’re trying to get at,” I said.
“Sometimes people aren’t always open about their sexuality.”
“She was my college roommate. Trust me, she’s not gay.”
The detective rose. “Thank you for coming in.”
“That’s it?”
“We’ll see what we can find out, and we’ll keep you abreast of any developments.” He had moved close to the entrance of his cubby.
“You can check out the car. And maybe dump the local-usage details from Becky’s phone for the last three days,” I practically pleaded.
“We will do what we can,” Detective Wilkes insisted without a discernible trace of sincerity. “But without sufficient probable cause that something has happened to Ms. Jameson, we do have an obligation to respect her wishes to check out from her own life. Somewhere around two hundred thousand adults go missing every year. Any adult has an absolute right to disappear. But as I said, we’ll check out these leads.”
“What about …” Jane hesitated. “What about dental records?”
“That would be premature,” the detective said. “We have absolutely no indicators that Ms. Jameson is in any danger.”
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Jane muttered as we walked through the lighted parking lot to her car. “He didn’t seem to give a single shit.”
“He was rather blasé about the whole thing.”
“I think we should call Liam,” Jane suggested rather adamantly.
“You call him,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll help, but I’d rather not be the one to ask. I’m already into him for three wishes, remember? You’re the one he got naked.”
I watched as Jane’s shoulders slumped. I immediately felt bad for my caustic remark. “Sorry. I’m just tired. I know Liam was just getting you out of that bar before some weasel could take advantage of your intoxicated self.”
“Thank you. He really was just looking out for my welfare.”
“I know.” A long silence followed. My mind was racing along with my heart. I had an idea, but I didn’t dare tell Jane because I knew she’d tell Liam and then I’d probably get some long lecture from them both. Better to have Jane distracting Liam while I made a slight detour for the cause. “I’d still like it better if you called him.”
“I will. As soon as I drop you off at your car.”
The gravel road leading up to Lawson's tow yard was pitch-black. The only light shone like a beacon up ahead. Floodlights bathed the area immediately around the fenced and razor-wired lot. As soon as I drove within a hundred yards of the place, I heard the chilling sound of two dogs barking.
“I hate guard dogs.”
I kept reminding myself that this was all for Becky, hoping to bolster my courage. Leaving my high beams on, I exited the car and went directly to the padlocked gates. A slightly rusted sign explained that the yard was open from seven a.m. through seven p.m., and that cash was the only acceptable form of payment to release cars from impound.
“Jesus!” I screamed when a fierce-looking black dog threw himself at the chained gate. Reflexively, I took a step backward. “Bad dog.”
It continued to snarl and growl. “Bad, bad, scary dog!”
The growling stopped. The fear coursing through my veins did not. The dog shadowed me as I walked along the fence line. It took only a matter of seconds for me to spot Becky’s BMW. It was in the front row. However, I had to find a way past the dogs and into the car, since I didn’t have any hope that Detective-Sergeant Wilkes was going to get his happy ass in gear any time soon.
I got back in my car, turned around, and headed back out east on Okeechobee Boulevard. I went into an all-night Walgreens and purchased one of those things that puncture glass—whatever it’s called. My next stop was the McDonald’s drive-through, where I purchased sandwiches and a large frappe to go.
I drove home, took off my dress and heels, and slipped on yoga pants, a top, and some barely used tennis shoes. There was no way I could accomplish my goal in four-inch wedges. Jane had gotten me the yoga outfit as a present and an incentive to join her sweaty yoga class. I’d passed on the class, but kept the outfit because it was comfy. And black, an added bonus because it was good camouflage. I went to my computer and did a Google search. I smiled when I found the answer I was looking for on Ask.com. I went to my medicine chest and grabbed my secret weapon: Xanax.
I thought about calling Tony, but decided it would be better if I put that off. As an officer of the court, he couldn’t sanction what I was about to do, so keeping him out of the loop was crucial. I’d tell him when and if I found a significant clue.
Armed with my implements, I drove the twenty minutes back out to Lawson’s. I’d already had one very unpleasant experience with a dog, and I didn’t intend to repeat it. This time I came prepared.
Taking a long sip of my coffee for fortification, I tried to ignore my shaking hands. Hell, my whole body was shaking. Breaking and entering wasn’t exactly one of my strengths.
Dressed for the part, I parked my car with the lights shining on my target and grabbed up the McDonald’s bag. This time both dogs showed up at the gate, trying—and succeeding—to intimidate me. I was intimidated, but I was more worried about Becky.
Opening the bag, I unwrapped the first of a dozen cheeseburgers, added a Xanax, and then placed it on the gravel. I did the same for a second one. “Good doggies,” I cooed as I let them get the scent through the chain link. They stopped snarling, so I figured my plan might just work. And since I’d checked, the Xanax wouldn’t harm them in any way, so if I got caught, no one could tack on a cruelty-to-animals charge.
Like a minor-league pitcher, I threw those sandwiches as far away from Becky’s car as possible. The dogs raced after them, fighting between
themselves before each got his own sandwich. While they ate, I climbed up about three feet, the McDonald’s bag clenched in my teeth. The dogs had finished their sandwiches and started running toward me, barking wildly.
I was ready. I tossed two more Xanax-laced burgers in the distance and bought myself enough time to reach the top of the fence and carefully negotiate the razor wire.
“Geez, don’t you guys chew? Aren’t you getting sleepy yet?” I asked when they came racing back for more. I unwrapped two more of the prespiked sandwiches, threw them, and off they went. I jumped the five feet to the ground and made a dash for Becky’s car.
My heart was pounding in my chest and ears. I’d seen how the dogs had ripped into the burgers, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be dessert. When I reached the car, I went around to the passenger’s side so I could keep one eye out for the Hounds of the Baskervilles. Using the center punch, I shattered the window. Immediately, the car alarm started blaring. I was depending on the fact that these days, most people ignored the sound of an alarm.
People did. Dogs did not.
They came back toward me, though neither one seemed to have the energy to run. “Thank you, Xanax.” I quickly unwrapped two more burgers, and then tossed them to the dogs. They began to eat, just not with the same enthusiasm as before. I only had two burgers left, so I had to make my search of Becky’s car fast.
My heart sank into my toes when I spotted her Prada bag on the console. Reaching in, and being careful not to cut myself, I pulled the purse out, carefully shaking off shards of glass.
The blaring horn was giving me a headache. I debated whether to leave the purse for the police to find or just to take it with me. I decided to go through it and then put it back where I’d found it. Maybe when he saw her purse, Detective-Sergeant Wilkes would work a little harder on finding Becky.
The dogs were still chomping on their burgers as I tilted the purse toward the light and began surveying the contents. All the usual stuff was there. Makeup, compact, datebook. Then a chill ran along my spine. Her wallet was still inside. It would have been impossible for Becky to go missing voluntarily without taking along her debit card, checks, and credit cards. I slipped the debit card out and stuck it inside the strap of my sports bra.
I also noticed something else missing. Becky’s cell phone. That was a positive sign. If she’d been snatched by the tiara lady, I doubted she would have asked permission to take her phone along. Her phone had a GPS chip, so maybe someone could triangulate the cell towers and get her location. I didn’t know if that was possible or just something they did on CSI. Still, it was worth further investigation.
The two lethargic dogs staggered toward me as I went back to my point of entry. They were definitely buzzed, but the information from the Internet clearly stated that Xanax, in small doses, would not hurt them at all. Make them tired, yes. Cause them any long-lasting residual effects, no. I couldn’t be miffed at the dogs; they were there for protection. But I didn’t want protection. I just wanted to get out of there in one piece. Before I placed my foot in the fencing, I tossed the last set of burgers to the dogs. They sniffed them, but didn’t seem very interested. Time to climb before they remembered they were actually supposed to keep people like me out of there.
I had just cleared the razor wire when I spotted a car coming up the gravel road.
Damn!
At thirty you get respect … and wrinkles.
fifteen
I jumped down and raced toward my car, adrenaline pumping through my whole body. I guess some people do still pay attention to alarms.
Too late. The car had me blocked in. Damn. I was probably going to jail for trespassing.
The bright headlights from the car made me shield my eyes as I watched the black silhouette in my rearview step out of the car and begin to walk toward me. I’d know that silhouette anywhere.
I stepped out of my car. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass,” Liam yelled over the car alarm, his tone laced with amusement.
I placed one hand on my hip and said, “Too late. I already got what I came for.”
“And it’s all memorialized on candid camera,” he said, pointing to a place just below the roofline of the building. There, big as life was a security camera with its red blinking light laughing at me.
“Now what do I do?” I asked, my sense of accomplishment deflated like a week-old balloon.
“I have to get inside and take the tapes.”
“Why you?” I asked defensively. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’ve already got a rapport with the guard dogs.”
Liam looked over at the sleeping Dobermans. “What’d you use?”
“Xanax,” I admitted, because I thought it was very clever.
“How much?”
“One and a half milligrams. Why?”
“Well, that doesn’t give me a lot of time.”
I followed him over to the fence. I was treated to a nice, unobstructed view of his butt as he made quick work of scaling the fence. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“Coming with you. Becky is my closest friend, and I’m going nuts trying to find her.”
“You’ll only slow me down,” Liam said as he jogged over to Becky’s car, reached across to open the driver’s-side door, and then, in a matter of seconds, silenced the irritating car alarm. The dogs were snoring, so I felt a little more comfortable going past them as I followed Liam to the small shack that served as an office.
Using a credit card, he managed to make quick work of the lock. The minute the door was opened, a beeping sound alerted. “What’s that?” I asked as Liam dashed around the room opening cabinets.
“Alarm system. We have less than ninety seconds to find the recorder, grab the tape, and get out of here. Start looking.”
In under ten seconds I located the machine mounted in a cabinet behind the desk. “Here it is.” I pressed Stop and then Eject. The machine slowly coughed up the tape. “Got it!”
“Let’s go,” Liam said as he used the hem of his shirt to wipe away any fingerprints.
I could still taste my own fear, terrified that the dogs had awakened from their catnap—if dogs can actually catnap—and were waiting just outside to maul me to death. However, mostly I was terrified for Becky. I kept reminding myself that in her call to Vain Dane she had said she’d be gone a week or so. Her purse was in the car, which didn’t bode well, but her phone and keys were missing. Maybe she did just need time away.
Luckily, the dogs were still asleep as Liam and I moved quickly back to the fence. I climbed up again, aided by Liam’s hand on my butt. Well, it wasn’t so much aiding me as it was making me hot from the inside out.
Jumping down, I went directly to my car and started the engine. Liam did the same, and then we both did a series of Y turns until we were ready to traverse the gravel road.
Adrenaline didn’t stop pumping in my body until we were safely out on Okeechobee Road, headed east. I was following Liam, fully expecting him to take the I-95 exit back to his place in Lake Worth. Instead, he went over the bridge, and I knew he was on his way to my house.
Just once I’d like it if he asked first. But I didn’t think that would happen anytime soon. He pulled his ratty Mustang into the horseshoe-shaped drive and opened the driver’s-side door. The door, like the rear right quarter panel, was primer gray. I couldn’t imagine restoring a car when there were so many good ones out there to buy. New car smell is intoxicating.
“Why did you come here?” I asked without preamble.
“To stare at you in exercise clothes. That Lycra really hugs your body, doesn’t it?”
“Try to act like a grown-up.”
“I just wanted to hear how things went at the tow yard so I can get a better handle on Becky’s disappearance.”
“So you believe me? Us? Jane and Liv, too?”
“I don’t buy Becky just picking up and taking off. But it’s not out of the realm of possib
ility.”
Buzzkill. I walked him to the front door. “It’s late.”
“It’s eleven,” he corrected. “I want you to tell me everything you found in the car.”
“C’mon in.”
While I brewed a pot of coffee, I asked, “Want something?”
He grinned slowly.
I rolled my eyes. “Now you get nothing. By the way, nice disappearing act after the wedding.”
“What?”
“You snuck away in the middle of the night.”
“I was asked to leave.”
“What?”
“Your mother asked me to leave, so I did. I figured if I didn’t, she’d take it out on you.”
“Thank you, but my mother can always find something to take out on me. I’m sorry she was rude to you.”
“Not a problem.”
The coffeepot was taking its sweet time. I was leaning against the counter, mug readied in my right hand. I couldn’t help but notice that Liam’s perpetual five o’clock shadow was back and, as yummy as he might have looked in a tux, the casual shirt and jeans just seemed to suit him better. To the untrained eye, it might appear as if he’d subjected his pale blue and pale yellow shirt to multiple washings over the years. But I recognized Tommy Bahama, and I knew the shirts weren’t cheap. PI work obviously paid better than being a paralegal.
“What did you think of the wedding?” I asked, since the bouquet was lying atop my counter.
“Nice, but excessive.”
“It was that,” I recalled with a grin. “The Huntington-St. Johns didn’t spare a single expense. Lisa hated it.”
One dark brow arched toward that always-mussed lock of hair that practically called my name. “Then why’d she do something so over-the-top?”
“She didn’t. That was all Cassidy Presley Tanner Rossi Browning and Tenley and Tripp Huntington-St. John. The only thing Lisa selected was her shoes, and I doubt she’ll ever wear them again.”
4 Slightly Irregular Page 19
