"I'll just take you to his study. He's finishing up his shower now."
They followed Diane Trask down a long hallway to a dark oak door. She pushed it open to reveal a matching study complete with leather chairs, heavy bookcases, and a huge desk near the windows looking out on the back lawn.
"I'll just go get him. It won't be a minute." She turned to go and then paused. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, perhaps?"
Both of them shook their heads. "Thank you, we're fine," Chris assured the woman.
The door closed behind her with a click.
"I hope you enjoyed your shrimp?" Chris teased. "Really, Ella?"
She shrugged, stepping over to the windows. "I never know what to say to people when they recognize me. It's always awkward whether they like me or hate me."
"Some people hate you? They don't even know you."
"They think they do. Sometimes people are just mad and they want someone to take it out on."
Chris nodded in understanding. "If it escalates then that's when the cops get called. That's where I come in."
"I hope it doesn't come to that."
They weren't alone for long. The door swung open again and an older man - around sixty - stepped into the room. A little under six feet tall with silver hair, he was dressed in khaki pants and a light blue button down shirt.
Chris held out his hand. "Robert Trask, I presume? I'm Chris Marks and this is Ella Scott. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us."
The two men shook and Robert Trask took a seat behind his desk, indicating that they should sit also. Chris and Ella sat down on the leather chairs opposite, which afforded them a better view of their interviewee.
Tanned. Very tan for this time of year. Chris's gaze zeroed in on a few photos on the credenza behind Trask. Golf. The man liked to golf. That would explain the golden coloring.
"Please call me Bobby. Everyone does. Whenever I hear Mr. Trask I always look around for my father." Bobby laughed and sat back against the dark leather. "You wanted to talk about that day."
That day. It was an interesting way of phrasing it but yes, that's what he'd come about.
Clearing his throat, Chris perched on the edge of his chair. "We wanted to talk about the day you found Jane Doe."
Bobby nodded, his thumb and forefinger pinching his lower lip. "Have they re-opened the case then? I hadn't heard that."
Chris wasn't sure why Bobby thought they'd let him know what was going on in the investigation. Was it a case of a rich man having friends in the right places?
"The case was actually never closed," Chris explained, sparing a quick glance in Ella's direction. She was studying the room closely so he left her to that. She'd already agreed to let him take the lead in questioning. Not that she had much choice. "I'm working on trying to identify Jane."
That was step one, anyway.
"Her hands were cut off," Bobby said, as if explaining it to a child. "They can't identify her."
"Technology and time march on," Chris said, pulling out the rendering of Jane. He slid it onto the desk in front of Bobby Trask. "This is a forensic rendering of what Jane might have looked like. It was on the news last night. You didn't see it?"
According to a text Chris had received this morning, the office was busy taking leads from the hotline they'd set up. Hopefully one of them would pan out.
"I didn't," Bobby replied slowly, his gaze riveted to the drawing in front of him. His face had gone pale and for a moment Chris thought the man might pass out. "This is her?"
"Yes, it's Jane."
Hand shaking, Bobby's hand reached for a water bottle, drinking down half in seconds.
"I guess...I don't know how to explain..."
Chris didn't interrupt and neither did Ella. They let Bobby gather his obviously scattered thoughts.
"I know this is going to sound terrible," he finally said, looking up from the picture. "But it was easier not to think of her as an actual real person. You know... She was just an idea, a concept. This...this changes things."
Ella looked appalled at Trask's explanation but Chris kind of understood. Everyone dealt with things in their own way. In the past, Chris drank to numb his emotions. Bobby had pretended that Jane Doe wasn't real. It was cold and slightly callous but people had to find a way to sleep at night and it wasn't always nice and pretty.
Not wanting to cause Bobby any more turmoil, Chris quickly slipped the drawing back into his bag. "I'm afraid you might see her face on the news or in the newspaper. We're trying to see if anyone might recognize her. We want to give her a name."
"Of course, of course. A name..." Trask took another gulp of his water. "I don't know who she is so I don't know how I can help you."
"You can tell us about that day," Chris replied. "Anything at all that you can remember. Sometimes it's the littlest details that make the biggest difference."
"It was a long time ago," Trask said. "To be honest, I've spent the last thirty years trying to forget it."
"You were driving to work." This time it was Ella who spoke in a low, almost musical voice as if telling a story to a child. "You got a flat tire and had to pull over."
His gaze somewhere far back into the past, Trask nodded. "Yes, I was working as a night guard at a warehouse. Decent pay and lots of time to study but it was boring as hell. I wanted to grab a burger on the way because I was hungry."
Bingo. Ella had a great deal of experience getting people to talk and she'd hit it out of the park this time. Bobby Trask was firmly in 1989, reliving that morning.
"You were familiar with the route," she prompted. "You'd driven it three or four times a week for almost a year."
"Yeah, I used to joke that I could do it with my eyes closed. Sometimes I was so tired that I almost did. It was an easy route and I was driving against traffic so it wasn't too bad."
"But that day it wasn't a smooth drive."
"I got a flat. I had to pull over and change the tire."
He stopped speaking, his face turned away toward the window.
Chris didn't want to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over their witness. Holding his breath, he stayed silent praying that Ella would, too. Trask had to work through this in his own way and time.
"I'd drank a bunch of coffee to stay awake," he finally said, his lips barely moving. "So I had to take a leak. The sun hadn’t gone down yet and I didn't want to be seen so I walked down the embankment and behind some trees and bushes."
Trask was pinching his lower lip between his fingers again, still not looking them in the eye.
"I was taking care of business when I saw it. At first I thought it was some sort of Halloween decoration. I mean...I'd never seen a real skull before so I wasn't expecting it. It was covered with a bunch of leaves but since the sun was up I could see it. I don't know what made me walk over and take a closer look but I did. That's when I saw there were other bones. It dawned on me that this wasn't any Halloween prank. It might be real. So I ran up to my car and drove away. At first, I wasn't going to call anyone or say anything. I was scared, you know? And I still didn't trust what I'd seen. I kept thinking that I must have been mistaken. I must have just misunderstood."
Trask's breathing was ragged now, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. His hands gripped the edge of the desk, the knuckles white. When he suddenly turned back to Chris, the pupils of his eyes were blown wide and his face was an ashen color.
"Whatever had happened I didn't want to get involved but something kept me from just walking away. So I pulled over at a gas station and called the cops. They said they'd check it out."
The color was coming back into Trask's face. He appeared more relaxed with each passing moment.
"What happened then, Bobby?" Chris asked. "They found Jane Doe. Did they come talk to you?"
Chris already knew the answer but he always made a point to ask those types of questions. Just to make sure that he was getting truthful answers. Trask didn't have any reason to lie though, so this wa
s more testing what he remembered.
"They did. I came home from work and the cops were waiting for me. They asked me a bunch of questions and I answered them. They went away and a couple of new guys came back a few weeks later, asked the same damn questions again. I gave them the same answers, and that was it. The story fell out of the paper and I never really heard anything about it again. One of the detectives gave me his card and I called him some months later to ask him if they'd ever found out who she was or who did it. He said they didn't but that he'd call me if they did. I never got a call so..."
"Was it Detective Wade that gave you his card?" Ella queried. "Wallace Wade?"
"I don't remember." Trask frowned and then pulled open the top drawer of his desk, retrieving his wallet. He fished in it for a moment and then produced a small white business card. "Here it is. Detective Wallace Wade. Yeah, that was him."
The dude still has it?
Then Chris remembered that this moment in Trask's life would have been traumatic. He'd found the remains of a murdered woman and something like that was going to haunt a person. Especially as there had been no closure in the case.
"Did you ever go back to the scene?" Ella asked, her voice soft. Chris's head whipped around at the question. It wasn't anything he would have asked normally but now that she'd asked it he wanted to know the answer.
"Hell, no." Trask shook his head vigorously. "No way. I drive out of my way not to go there. For the longest time I had these nightmares that I would drive by, get another flat, and find another body. So no. Never. I won't ever go there again. I quit my job and got a new one."
Yep, traumatic as hell. Chris hoped that at some point Robert Trask had sought counseling to deal with what he'd seen that day.
"Is there anything else you remember about that day, Mr. Trask? Anything at all? Maybe a car parked in the median or a vehicle driving by way too slow?"
"No, I don't think so. To be honest, I wasn't really looking around me. I just wanted to get to work and not be late."
After a few more questions, Chris and Ella bid Robert McKay goodbye and headed back to their car. As they drove out of the ritzy neighborhood, Ella was scowling.
"What's wrong?"
"You asked him if he'd seen anything that day?" she replied, her brows pinched together. "But we know that the murder was long before. Why would he see anything?"
"Because the murderer might be watching and waiting for someone to find the body," Chris explained. "It's a total long shot and probably not even a possibility but I had to ask."
Ella shivered and wrapped her arms more tightly around her messenger bag. "The thought of some guy sitting there day after day, driving by for months or even years, just waiting for someone to find his handiwork. That's chilling."
Chris didn't have a chance to respond, his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. One look had him sighing out loud.
Stacey.
"Excuse me a minute, Ella. I have to take this."
Chris pulled over into a parking lot. Stacey was a talker and he didn't want to be driving and chatting at the same time.
"Hey, Stacey. I'm at work right now. What's going on?"
"The school nurse called. Annie has a fever. I'm stuck out of town with Ben. You need to get her now."
It was Chris's day to pick her up from school anyway. He would have Annie for three days while Stacey and her new husband were on a business trip. Now it looked like all the fun plans they had would be put on hold until Annie was feeling better.
Casting a sideways glance at Ella in the passenger seat, Chris made a quick decision. He could comb through missing person files and tips from the tip line in the comfort of his own home.
"I'm on my way, Stacey. Don't worry. I'll have her call you when I get her home and settled."
Just like that, his plan for the day changed. He wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, this was another perk of the job. He didn't have set hours.
He hung up and pulled back into traffic, heading for Annie's elementary school instead of the office.
"We're taking a small detour. Ten minutes. Tops. I promise."
He'd pick up Annie, drop Ella at her vehicle, grab some files, and then head for home. He could do this single working parent thing. He could be a good dad and still find out Jane Doe's real identity. He could handle it all. Luckily, he didn't need much sleep. Or a social life. Or female companionship. Or sex.
Okay, he might miss a few items on that list.
Now...where I can order some chicken soup and have it delivered?
12
"I threw up. Twice."
Annie announced that when Chris buckled her into the backseat of his SUV, tucking her pink book bag at her feet. His daughter's cheeks were flushed and she was slightly more listless than normal but otherwise she appeared to be in good spirits.
Ella looked like she didn't know whether to puke or laugh. He was having the same issue as well. Sometimes Annie was more entertaining than anything he might see on television.
"Did you do that before or after the nurse called your mom?"
Because Stacey hadn't shared that little tidbit of information.
"I don't know. But I threw up my breakfast and lunch. Mom made me toast and scrambled eggs and for lunch I had a peanut butter sandwich. It–"
"That's enough. We get the idea." If he let her she'd go into gruesome detail. She loved gore for some reason. And what was it about farts that made kids giggle? "We have a guest in the car. Annie, this is Ella. Ella, this is my daughter, Annie. Oops, Annalise. She doesn't like to be called Annie anymore."
Ella smiled at Annie and reached over the seat to shake her hand. He wouldn't have advised that because his little girl was currently infested with germs, and she still had to be reminded to wash her hands on occasion.
"It's nice to meet you, Annalise. I'm Ella."
"What's that short for?"
"Gabriella, but that's quite a mouthful, don't you think? I prefer Ella, but you can call me either one."
"Gabriella is so pretty," Annie said. "It's like a princess name."
Chris had hoped that his daughter was exiting the princess stage. At one point a few years ago she'd worn a plastic tiara pretty much twenty-four-seven, only taking it off to bathe. Even that had been a struggle. She'd argued that a real princess would take a bath with her tiara on. They'd barely won that argument because they didn't have any proof of how royalty actually got clean. Annie had demanded evidence.
"I'm definitely not a princess," Ella laughed. "Not even close."
Chris glanced at Annie in the rearview mirror. If she looked like she was going to boot again, he'd pull the vehicle to the side of the road. "Ella is a television news reporter. She and I are working together on a case."
Annie nodded. "The lady with no name. Can I have a popsicle when we get home?"
Ella's brow raised at Chris. He'd explain later that he didn't share details of cases with his impressionable daughter. She only knew the basics. Pulling the SUV up to the front of the office, he turned to speak to Annie.
"Yes, the lady with no name. And yes, you may have a popsicle when we get home. We have orange and banana. First, I need to grab some files."
He turned to Ella who was gathering up her messenger bag. She'd parked here at the office before their trip this morning. "Looks like I won't be able to go through those tips with you today. I'm sorry about that. If Annie is better tomorrow, maybe we can do it then."
Glancing back at Annie, Ella shrugged. "You're going home to work, right? Why don't I meet you there? I can help you there just as well as in the office."
It wasn't that Chris didn't want Ella in his home. He was fine with it. Pretty much. It was just that he didn't need Annie telling Stacey that there was a woman in his house, no matter how innocent it might be. As it was, he was finding it difficult to be strictly professional with the pretty reporter; he didn't need his ex-wife playing matchmaker, too.
There was also the fact that Annie might
be contagious.
"You know you could get sick, right?"
"I never get sick. I was one of those kids who never missed a day of school. In fact, I don't remember the last time I was ill. I really don't."
Chris always had a cold at Christmastime. Every single year. It was annoying as hell.
"On your head be it then. Don't say you weren't warned."
He'd simply remind Annie that Ella was a work colleague, not a girlfriend. With any luck, she'd forget all about it and not say anything to her mother.
"Why don't you run in and get your work and I'll stay here in the car with Annie?"
That should be fine. What could a precocious nine-year-old say to Ella that might be cringeworthy?
Shit.
He turned his attention to Annie. "Okay, but if you feel sick throw up out of the window."
Her hand might be covering her mouth, but Ella was laughing behind it.
"Sure, laugh now, but when she throws up over the back of the seat it won't be so funny."
He'd been puked on by his daughter more times than he cared to admit. She'd had a fussy tummy as a baby and toddler.
"We'll be fine. Just go," Ella urged. "The quicker you get your files, the quicker we can get Annalise settled and get back to work."
She had a point. He needed to get Annie tucked into bed with her popsicle and a Disney movie.
Then they could start sifting through all of these tips. He could only hope that one of them would pay off.
Chris made Annie a little nest on the couch with comfy blankets and pillows so she could watch television while munching on an orange popsicle. In the meantime, Ella had set them up a spot at the kitchen table so they could sift through the calls and emails that had come through the tip line since last night's newscast.
His apartment was on the small side and rather sparsely furnished but quite clean and tidy. The living room had large windows that splashed light on the blond oak furniture and the blue and beige sofa which appeared to be quite new. The only item that looked out of place was a brown leather chair that was soft and worn.
Elusive Identities Page 8
