The Missing Piece

by Sala, Sharon

  * * *

  While Wyrick was sleeping, Charlie was reading an email. When he opened the one from Annie’s doctor, he frowned.

  Charlie,

  We did an evaluation on Annie today because the staff had been reporting changes in her behavior. I wanted you to know that her cognizant level is on a lower scale than it was before. She’s not as responsive to stimuli, and we’re having a staff member sit with her when she eats, to make sure she gets enough sustenance.

  Yes, you and I have discussed this on several previous occasions, so I know this will not be a surprise. But it is happening faster than I estimated, and understand this will not be a message well received. I am so sorry.

  In the meantime, Annie is being well cared for, and if you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to call me.

  Ted

  Charlie stared at the words. Annie was disappearing far faster than had been predicted. He’d been so certain he’d have more time with her. They still had pieces to add to her puzzle, but he was torn. He didn’t want to lose her, but when he thought about their relationship, he had to admit it was already gone. Wanting the physical presence of her body, without the bright, shining woman within it, was selfish as hell. Just because she was still breathing, that didn’t hide the fact that the fucking disease had already buried her.

  He sent a reply to Ted. Part of him felt guilty for not being there with her, but she wasn’t there, either. The message was a shock, and hard to accept as he logged off, then went to shower.

  He came out a short while later, his hair still damp when he pulled back the covers and got into bed. But when he closed his eyes, all he saw were images of Annie—the way she threw her head back when she laughed. Seeing her waiting at the gate when he returned from Afghanistan for the last time. Their holidays together. The day they learned she’d miscarried their only child. The look on her face when the doctor gave her the Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

  “Worse than cancer,” Annie had said, and she’d been silent all the way home.

  Their beautiful life had died that day.

  This email was news of another milestone on her journey, and he had to accept it.

  He fell asleep, dreaming of the missing pieces of Annie, and believing if he found them all, he could put her back together again.

  * * *

  Miranda had been awake since daybreak. She wasn’t normally a morning person, but since she was turning over a new leaf, so to speak, she thought it prudent not to sleep away half the day.

  The night out with her father had been fun. It was exactly the lift she’d needed. Her heart was still broken. Her feelings were still hurt. But it wasn’t the end of her world, and last night proved it.

  Jason might have quit her, but as long as she had batteries, Rubber Dicky wouldn’t. And now that she thought about it, Rubber Dicky stayed hard no matter how long she played. Jason’s best was twice and then he was done.

  She headed downstairs with coffee on her mind, wondering what her breakfast choices were this morning, and met her father coming out of his office.

  “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”

  Miranda thought of Rubber Dicky again and smiled.

  “Yes, I did.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the breakfast room.

  “I just want you to know how very sorry I am for your disappointments. If there’s anything else I can do to help, you will tell me, yes?”

  Miranda nodded. “I know you were disappointed, too. You were looking forward to grandchildren. It will still happen. I promise you will have your grandchildren one day. And I expect you to spoil them as much as you’ve spoiled me.”

  Johannes frowned as they entered the breakfast room. “I did not spoil you. I only gave you what any father would give his daughter.”

  “And what’s that?” Miranda asked.

  “The world. I wanted to give you the world. What good is money if you cannot spend it on the people you love? Now we sit, and we eat the most important meal of the day. Breakfast!”

  Miranda grinned. “And that meal wouldn’t be complete without some fine Deutsch sausages. That’s what I want this morning. Sausages and eggs.”

  * * *

  Because she was planning to work, Wyrick dressed as if she was going to the office before they went down to breakfast.

  This morning it was a neon-yellow leather jacket and pencil-leg pants, a turquoise silk camisole beneath the jacket and ankle-high boots the shade of overripe plums.

  Her makeup was purple eye shadow with yellow eyeliner, and two swipes of deep purple for her lips.

  She unlocked the door between their suites and knocked once, then heard Charlie tell her to come in. When she opened the door, he was nowhere in sight. She raised her voice. “It’s three minutes to eight.”

  “I’m ready,” Charlie said as he came around the corner. Then he took one look at her, made a U-turn in the hall and disappeared again.

  Wyrick frowned, but he wasn’t gone more than a few seconds before he reappeared, wearing sunglasses.

  “We’re going to breakfast first,” she said.

  “I know, but you’re glowing, so I thought—”

  “Take them off now,” she said.

  He put them in his jacket pocket as she turned around and marched to the door. Even though he was grinning as he followed her out, he had a feeling she’d get even with him before the day was over.

  * * *

  Carter was already at the table and laughing with Edward when his very own Batman and Robin walked in.

  Dina was seated, too, and waiting for Kenneth to fix her plate. Her eyes widened when she saw Wyrick, but she said nothing.

  “Good morning! Did you both rest well?” Carter asked.

  Wyrick nodded. “Yes. Good morning, Edward,” she said.

  Edward beamed. “Good morning, dear lady.”

  “The accommodations are superb,” Charlie said.

  “Breakfast is serve yourself, buffet-style, but if there’s something else you’d rather have, Ruth will tell Chef,” Carter said.

  Charlie eyed the brimming sideboard. “Considering the bowl of cold cereal that usually passes for my breakfast, there’ll be no need for requests. That is a feast.” Then he stepped back for Wyrick. “After you,” he said.

  Wyrick’s eyes narrowed warningly as she passed him on the way to the buffet—then she saw waffles.

  “I love waffles,” she said to no one in particular and picked up a warm plate. She started with bacon, then a full-size Belgian waffle, added butter and slathered the waffle with heated syrup. She poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to her seat.

  Charlie took scrambled eggs and bacon, two pieces of buttered toast and his coffee, before sitting down beside her.

  Within a couple of minutes, everyone had food and began eating. Conversation was light for a bit, and then Carter got down to business.

  “Charlie, do you still want to speak to Jason this morning?”

  “Yes, if he’s up to it.”

  “I’ve spoken to the floor nurse,” Dina said. “He had a good night, and they had him up once this morning.”

  “Great news!” Carter said. “After we’ve finished, I’ll notify Security that we’ll be needing an escort to and from the hospital.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie said.

  Wyrick got up and went back to the buffet for more bacon and a refill of coffee.

  Charlie looked up as she came back to the table. “Good bacon, isn’t it?”

  “Shut up,” Wyrick said and then obviously remembered they were supposed to have a truce.

  Carter burst out laughing. “I love to see a woman enjoying her food.”

  “I envy you,” Dina said. “You’re so tall and thin. You must have good genes.”

  “Oh, I’m choc
k-full of all kinds of genes,” Wyrick said and popped the last bite of bacon into her mouth.

  It was the tone of her voice that wiped the smile off Charlie’s face. He knew what bitter sounded like, and he knew what anger sounded like, and there was an underlying hint of both. It made him wonder what had happened to her when she worked for Universal Theorem.

  Seventeen

  After breakfast, Wyrick returned to her suite to work on the Wilma Short file, hoping to find a connection to whomever had paid her to go after Carter Dunleavy.

  Charlie and Carter left the estate in one of the company cars driven by his chauffeur, with one security escort behind them, and one in front.

  Once they reached the hospital, a two-man security team accompanied them inside and up to Jason’s room, where two more members of Carter’s security team were on guard just outside.

  “Everything going okay?” Carter asked.

  One of them nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Carter knocked, then opened the door and walked in.

  The television was on. Jason was obviously drifting in and out of sleep, but when he heard the door open, he saw his uncle and smiled.

  “Uncle Carter. So good to see you. Did you come to break me out of here?”

  Carter laughed. “Not yet, son. Are you up to talking a bit? Charlie has some more questions.”

  “Sure thing,” Jason said. “Ask away.”

  “I’ll keep this brief,” Charlie said. “We’d be careless to assume that the attempt on your life is not connected to Carter, and I need to ask a few questions.”

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Jason said.

  “Do you have any personal or business enemies?”

  “Nothing remotely like the ones Uncle Carter has. I have a couple of people who hated my guts in college, but that was at Yale and years ago.”

  “I know you’re seeing Miranda Deutsch now. Are there any women from your past who hold grudges against you?”

  “No. I’ve never had a serious relationship with anyone. Never been close to an engagement. Never brought any of them home to meet my family. They were just casual partners for social events. Oh...and I’m not seeing Miranda anymore, either.”

  “When did that end?” Charlie asked.

  “Yesterday morning.”

  “Was it an amicable parting of the ways?”

  “Not really.”

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘not really’? Did you two have a fight?”

  “I wasn’t fighting. I just told her I thought we needed to take a break from each other. She cursed at me like a sailor, then started screaming at me. I disconnected.”

  Charlie frowned. “Okay, for the sake of clarity, how long between the time you two had this conversation, and the time you were shot?”

  “I guess...two hours more or less.”

  Carter had been quiet until then. “Charlie, what are you getting at?”

  “Bear with me, Carter. Just a couple more questions, and then I’ll let Jason rest,” Charlie said.

  “I’m okay,” Jason said.

  “So, if I’m remembering correctly, everyone in the family would gain the same amount of shares if your uncle had been killed, right? I mean...no one profits more than another if it happens.”

  “That’s right,” Jason said.

  “And you are the person who’s been groomed to take his place, so it’s not like you had any new expectations, either, right?”

  “Correct,” Carter replied.

  “Yes, that’s been a given in the family for years,” Jason said.

  “Okay, last question. Do people outside the family know this?”

  “The people on the board know, of course,” Jason said. “Even though it’s not a secret, I have no idea if anyone else does.”

  “Carter, what about you?” Charlie asked. “Is it common knowledge among the people you do business with?”

  “Anyone who’s ever done business with us knows Jason will be the heir to this position, and he proved himself fully capable when I went into hiding. But as far as the inheritance angle goes, I doubt it,” he said.

  “What about your girlfriends? Was Miranda Deutsch aware of that?” Charlie asked.

  Jason’s brow knitted slightly. “I doubt it. We never discussed work or families when we were together.”

  “Okay, that covers everything I need to know. I’ll fill Wyrick in on this, and see what she can do with it. Sometimes all she needs is that one tiny bit of info to break a case wide-open for me.”

  “That’s quite an assistant you have,” Jason said.

  Carter smiled. “You have no idea how freaking amazing she is.”

  “And some days, aggravating as hell,” Charlie added.

  The conversation ended with laughter.

  But even after they’d said their goodbyes and were on their way back to the estate, Charlie’s thoughts were all over the place. He could see the puzzle pieces now, but none of them were fitting together. In most of the cases he worked, there was that one piece they had yet to find. Once they got it, everything else always fell into place.

  That hadn’t happened here, not yet.

  * * *

  The Denver PD was in something of a pressure cooker. Two members of the Dunleavy family were under attack, and they couldn’t find a single lead as to who was doing it or why.

  What they did know was that Wilma Short had been murdered. The autopsy had revealed a huge bruise on the back of her head, and DNA beneath her fingernails that wasn’t hers, nor did it match anything in the database.

  All they knew about the attacks on Carter was what he’d told them, plus the lab test from the hospital stating traces of arsenic had been found in his system. As well, there was a report from the inspection on his vehicle when he’d lost his brakes coming down a mountain—and they’d found a small cut in the brake line.

  Chief Forsythe had personally cleared Rom Delgado of any wrongdoing in helping Carter hide, and Carter had already recompensed the Denver PD for the costs they’d incurred during the two weeks they’d been searching for him. But there were still no answers as to who was behind this.

  Every precinct in the Denver area had received a BOLO from the central division regarding Jason Dunleavy’s shooting. Thanks to traffic cams, they had a make and model on the car, but no tag number because it had been smeared with mud.

  The police knew the kind of gun the shooter had used from the bullet they took out of Jason’s shoulder, and they had a description of the tattoo sleeve on the shooter’s arm from an eyewitness account.

  Like Charlie Dodge, all they needed was one break.

  * * *

  Dr. Wooten, the pathologist who’d done the initial autopsy two days ago on Buddy Boy Pierce, also wound up with the body of Rey Garza on his slab yesterday. After the autopsy, Wooten measured the distance between the eyebrows where the bullet went in, he realized it was the same measurement on Buddy Pierce’s body. The fact that they’d both been shot between the eyes within a millimeter of the same location was unusual. It made him curious, and so the next morning he checked the striations on the two bullets, and determined that the same gun had been used to kill both men.

  At that point, Wooten made a call to the detectives working each case, and asked them to come down to the morgue.

  Neither knew the other had been called until they both showed up and were taken into the morgue together.

  “Detective Reed, Detective Spick, I’m Dr. Wooten, and thank you for coming. This may mean nothing, and then again, these bodies might connect to other similar cases you’re working that are still open.”

  “What’s going on, Doc?” Detective Reed asked.

  “Just let me show you first, and then we’ll talk,” Wooten said and led them to the lockers and opened two different drawers.

  “That’s Buddy Pierce.
He’s mine,” Detective Reed said.

  “This is Rey Garza. He’s mine,” Detective Spick said, and then Reed and Spick looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Same perfectly clean bullet hole between the eyes in the exact same place. Same caliber bullet,” Dr. Wooten said. “I have a bullet from Pierce and a bullet from Garza. Seems to me that they have the same striations. Find the gun, and you’ll likely find the killer of both men.”

  They left the morgue more confused than they’d been before they got there. Now they were going to have to work up backgrounds on the two men to see what they had in common. It had to be something, considering the same gun was used to kill them.

  * * *

  When Detective Spick got to the precinct, he had reports to add to working files, his usual handful of messages and a few BOLOs sitting on his desk.

  One of the reports concerned the preliminary autopsy report Dr. Wooten had done on Garza. Spick casually reviewed it, noting the mention of the sleeve of tattoos and the accompanying photos.

  He put the copies in the case file and then went through the BOLOs. As he was reading them, he found one regarding the Jason Dunleavy case. The shooter they were looking for had a whole sleeve of tattoos on his left arm...and she’d described them as gang related in appearance.

  He pulled the autopsy he’d just filed on Rey Garza and studied the photos again. They looked gang related to him. It was a long shot, but worth letting the detective know. Spick reached for the phone.

  * * *

  Bruner was writing up a report when his phone rang. He hit Save on his computer, then picked up the receiver.