No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  “Of course,” Odem said smoothly. “I had recommended a Coltrane song for Claire to listen to. ‘Equinox,’ one of my personal favorites. I told her to download the song and listen to it. I sent her a message later that evening telling her I hoped she liked it.” A slow smile reeking of arrogance spread across his face. “I’m afraid it was nothing more sinister than that, Agent Wade. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Damien lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I had to ask. It seemed odd that it was the only message we could find from you.” He pushed off the wall and slowly wandered over to the table. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that we’re still waiting to receive the message transcripts from MyDomain. And I’m sure you also know that although your account is closed and Claire deleted her messages from you, the company’s technicians are able to pull them off their server. I assume the transcripts will corroborate everything you’ve told us today about your online relationship with Claire.”

  Odem met his gaze evenly. “I don’t expect any surprises.”

  Because you’ve made sure there won’t be any, you smug son of a bitch.

  Damien decided it was time to play their ace in the hole. “One more thing before you leave, Dr. Odem.”

  Very calmly and deliberately, Odem tipped his head back slightly to look up at Damien. He wore a bland, superior expression, as if he were bored with the entire interview. Mr. Cool. Mr. Untouchable.

  We’ll see about that.

  Damien said silkily, “Are you aware that two weeks before she disappeared, Claire hired a private investigator to run a background check on you?”

  Odem stiffened. For one brief, unguarded moment Damien saw shock, fear, and the anger of betrayal darken the other man’s gaze before the impenetrable mask slid back into place. But by then it was too late.

  Damien knew he had him.

  “I take it you didn’t know about the private investigator,” he murmured.

  “Obviously not.” Odem pursed his lips in disapproval. “I have no idea why Claire would have hired someone to run a background check on me.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “That’s odd. Because she told the P.I. she was supposed to be meeting you in person, but first she wanted to make sure you didn’t have a criminal record or a wife stashed away somewhere.” Like a predator stalking its prey, Damien slowly rounded the table, perched a hip against the edge, and crossed his arms. “Come now, Dr. Odem. Do you really expect us to believe Claire would have paid a grand to run a background check on you if she wasn’t going to be meeting you?”

  Odem held his gaze without blinking. “Clearly I underestimated the level of Claire’s infatuation with me. I didn’t realize she had become so obsessed with meeting me that she would go to such extreme lengths. Maybe she was hoping she would find something in the background check that she could use to blackmail me into having a relationship with her.”

  Damien stared at him, incredulous. “Let me get this straight. You’re suggesting that Claire Thorndike, the beautiful daughter of a multimillionaire, was so desperate to date you, a doctor she’d met online, that she hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on you. Not for the purpose of protecting herself in case you turned out to be a psycho, but for the purpose of coercing you into a relationship with her?”

  Across the table, Mayhew shook his head at the ceiling and muttered in disgust, “I’ve heard some really crazy shit in my time, but this takes the cake.”

  Odem clenched his jaw. “I’ve been the victim of a stalker before, a woman who wanted to be with a doctor so bad she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She hung around my house late at night and left disturbing messages on my phone.”

  “Did you report this stalker to the police?” Damien challenged. “Is it on record anywhere?”

  “No. When I threatened to press charges, she finally realized I wasn’t interested in her and gave up. I never heard from her again. Obviously Claire was more delusional than I thought. That’s the only explanation I can provide for her hiring a private detective to run a background check on me.”

  Damien just stared at him, and Odem stared back, stone-faced and defiant.

  In the ensuing silence, a cell phone trilled. With a muffled curse, Detective Mayhew reached inside his breast pocket and dug out his phone. He checked the caller ID, swore a second time, then got up and left the room muttering a gruff apology.

  Alone with Odem, Damien straightened from the table and walked around to claim the chair vacated by the detective. Odem eyed him warily as he reached into his back pocket and retrieved a pack of Marlboros.

  He held it out to his guest. “Care for a smoke?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Of course. You probably aren’t a smoker. Being a doctor, you know better. Good for you.” Damien removed a lighter from his pocket, shook out a cigarette, and lit up. He drew a deep lungful of nicotine and slowly exhaled, watching Odem through twin streams of smoke released through his nostrils. “I quit several years ago, but this case is really starting to do a number on me, know what I mean? I don’t think I slept more than an hour last night. I keep going over theories in my head and wondering if I’m missing something that’s staring right in my face. It’s frustrating as hell.”

  Odem calmly removed a speck of lint from his trousers. “I wish there was more I could do to help you, Agent Wade, but I’m afraid I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “Nah, see, I don’t believe that. I think you’ve been holding out on me, man.”

  Odem arched a brow but said nothing.

  Damien took a long pull on the cigarette and sent a curl of smoke into the air, watching it rise toward the water-stained ceiling before speaking again. “I think you haven’t been completely honest about your feelings for Claire Thorndike.”

  Odem looked vaguely amused. “What makes you think that, Agent Wade?”

  “Instincts.” He sat forward, leaning across the table to suggest intimacy. “Can we speak off the record for a moment?”

  Odem hesitated, darting a glance toward the mirror on the opposite wall. He’d probably watched enough Law & Order episodes to know they were being observed.

  Damien reached over and clicked off the mini-cassette recorder. “Off the record,” he promised.

  Odem settled back in his chair, casually crossed his legs, and offered the barest hint of an indulgent smile, prompting Damien to continue.

  “I didn’t want to say what I’m about to say in front of Detective Mayhew. He’s cool and all, and he’d probably swear up and down he doesn’t have a racist bone in his body, but you and I both know how it is.”

  Odem looked bemused. “I’m afraid you’ve got me at a loss, Agent Wade. We both know how what is?”

  “You know, how society works. Here you are—an intelligent, sophisticated, highly educated black man, a neurosurgeon at the top of his profession. And yet you know that for all the success you’ve achieved, there are still those who would look at you and see nothing but the color of your skin. Those are the same people who might work alongside you every day, might even invite you to tee time at their posh country clubs, but they would never, ever welcome you into their families.” He leaned back in his chair, propped one big, booted foot on the table and took a slow drag on his cigarette. “I bet you thought about that when you started chatting with Claire. I bet you thought long and hard about how Spencer Thorndike would react if you were introduced to him as Claire’s boyfriend. I bet you found yourself wondering what would bother him more—the fact that you’re old enough to be her father, or the fact that you’re dark enough to be her chauffeur.”

  Odem said nothing, a solitary muscle leaping in his jaw.

  And just like that, Damien knew he’d struck a nerve.

  He continued in the same confiding tone, man to man, one brother to another. “I don’t have to give you a history lesson, but sometimes it seems that the more things change, the more they stay the same. We both kno
w that the moment the media releases your name and photograph in connection to Claire’s disappearance, folks are gonna be whipped into a damn frenzy. ‘Black Man Kidnaps Wealthy White Heiress.’ Oh, the headlines won’t be that blatant, but we both know that’s what will be uppermost in people’s minds. The fact that you’re a brilliant, well-respected surgeon with no priors will be an afterthought. Your race, and Claire’s, will become the most important issue in this case. And that’s why I think you concocted that whole story about Claire becoming obsessed with you. You knew that if you told the truth—that you did agree to meet her and you were actually at her house on the night she disappeared—you’d become the prime suspect. And given your age and your race, you knew you’d be tried and convicted in the court of public opinion before you ever stepped foot in a courtroom. So you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

  Odem skewered Damien with a look. “You’re way off base, Agent Wade,” he said, coldly and succinctly. “I didn’t concoct any story. Everything I told you and Detective Mayhew was the truth. I never met Claire, nor did I have any intention of doing so.”

  “Do you like women?”

  “Excuse me? What kind of question is that?”

  “I think it’s a legitimate one. You’re forty-seven years old. No girlfriend. No kids. Never been married.” Damien shrugged. “Maybe I am barking up the wrong tree. Maybe you’re not into women.”

  Odem cut him a narrow look. “I assure you, Mr. Wade, that I’m very much into women.”

  “So you’re telling me you were never even tempted to meet Claire? Not even a little bit?”

  “No.”

  “Come on now,” Damien cajoled, settling into his best you-can-trust-me guise. “I’ve seen the photos on her MyDomain page. Claire’s a little hottie. I can definitely see how you might have wanted a piece of that, especially if she was practically throwing it in your face. I don’t think anyone would have blamed you for setting up a date with her. I mean, personally, I prefer my women a little older, a little thicker. A little browner. But, hey, to each his own.”

  Odem stared across the table at him. “Don’t presume to know what type of women I like, Agent Wade, just because we travel in different social circles.” He flashed a cold, sharp smile. “In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me at all to discover that you and I have the exact same taste in women.”

  Damien felt a distinct chill at his words. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the other man in silence. Tension hung thick and heavy between them for several moments.

  Abruptly Damien scraped back his chair and rounded the table. Odem eyed him warily as he approached. Bracing one hand on the table, with the cigarette bristling between his fingers, Damien leaned down and brought his mouth close to the doctor’s ear. “You’ve insulted my intelligence by coming in here and feeding me that bullshit about Claire becoming obsessed with you,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “I’ve been patient so far, giving you opportunity after opportunity to come clean. But you’ve refused, because you think you’re smarter than everyone else. But guess what? You’re not so smart, Doc. If you were, you would have realized that lying about your relationship with Claire only makes you look guilty of something more, something worse. You may have done a good job of covering your tracks, but that won’t be enough to keep me from digging and digging, until I get to the truth about you and Claire. And when I do, motherfucker, your ass is mine. Make no mistake about it.”

  He drew back and looked into the other man’s dark eyes, which were simmering with leashed fury and something else. The veiled promise of retribution.

  “Are you finished?” Odem said tightly.

  Damien took a long drag on his cigarette and slowly, deliberately, blew a cloud of smoke into Odem’s face. “I’ve only just begun,” he murmured.

  He watched as Odem surged to his feet and started angrily from the interrogation room.

  “Be sure to see Detective Mayhew before you leave,” Damien called after him.

  Odem left without a backward glance.

  Damien chuckled softly, then stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his boot and dropped the butt in an empty coffee cup before strolling out of the room, whistling cheerfully.

  Chapter 14

  When James Odem had arrived at the police station for questioning that morning, Althea had taken one look at him and felt a whisper of recognition.

  As she watched the interrogation from the other side of the one-way mirror, she’d racked her brain, trying to shake loose a memory of where she may have seen the neurosurgeon before.

  She hadn’t been home in nearly eight years, which meant she’d missed all the political fundraisers and formal dinners hosted by her aunt and uncle during his election bid for the Senate—events that James Odem might have attended. Years ago she’d gone to Mercy Harbor Hospital to visit a sick relative, but she didn’t recall meeting anyone who resembled Dr. Odem. Had he been a guest lecturer for one of her undergraduate premed classes at the University of Maryland? No, she would have remembered something like that.

  Yet she knew she’d seen the man somewhere before.

  But as the interview got underway, she had forgotten about trying to place his face and concentrated on what he was saying. Or, rather, what he wasn’t saying.

  Almost from the moment he had opened his mouth, it was clear that James Odem was lying. But no matter how many questions Damien and Detective Mayhew had thrown at him, or how much pressure they had put on him, he never broke a sweat. He was as cold as the steel instruments that were the tools of his trade.

  It was only when he and Damien were left alone that Althea had seen the first crack in his icy facade. She had watched, both amused and fascinated, as Damien methodically went to work on their suspect, crawling beneath his skin and poking around until he found his weakness. When Damien had threatened James Odem, the rage that filled the doctor’s eyes was the first real show of emotion he’d betrayed since the interview began.

  Shortly afterward, he’d marched out of the interrogation room without glancing over his shoulder at Althea, standing at the mirror. As she watched him go, she felt that same inkling of recognition.

  When Damien joined her a minute later, she passed him a fresh cup of coffee she’d pilfered from a machine nearby.

  “Good work,” she told him. “He needed to be knocked off his pedestal, smug bastard. Blowing the smoke in his face was a nice touch.”

  Damien flashed a crooked grin. “You liked that, huh?”

  “Yeah. How long ago did you quit smoking?”

  “Never started. Little interrogation tactic I picked up my first year in the Bureau. Works best on arrogant pricks with superiority complexes.” He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. “God, that’s awful. And I thought our brew back at the office was bad.”

  Althea grinned. “I wouldn’t know. Haven’t had the pleasure of tasting it yet.” She sobered after a moment. “I think you were dead-on about Odem’s reasons for lying about his relationship with Claire. I think he did realize he’d become the prime suspect if he admitted he was supposed to meet her that night. But does that mean he kidnapped her?”

  “Not necessarily. But as I told him, if he lies about one thing, you gotta wonder what else he’s lying about.”

  Althea agreed. “I’m hoping to have the message transcripts from MyDomain before the close of business. We can go through them together, see if there are any inconsistencies in Odem’s story. But something tells me there won’t be. For all he knew, we already had the message transcripts and were just trying to catch him in a lie. He would have been taking a pretty big chance on waltzing in here and outright lying to us about the contents of those messages.”

  “I know,” Damien said, looking grim as he leaned back against the wall. “Which is why I think he and Claire had another means of communicating. I think at some point, Odem decided it was too risky for them to continue sending messages to each other through MyDomain, an account her father had access to. So they found
another way to talk to each other about private matters, and they saved the safe, generic stuff for MyDomain.”

  “That’s highly possible.” Althea frowned. “But why go to so much trouble? Why keep up the ruse on MyDomain at all?”

  “Because Odem is a smart man. As soon as Claire contacted him that very first time, it became a matter of public record. By the time he realized their friendship was evolving into something more, they had already exchanged a number of flirtatious messages. Assuming he was planning at that point to kidnap or murder her, he knew their correspondence up until that point was already documented, which meant he would be a person of interest if she came up missing. He also knew it might look suspicious if they suddenly stopped sending messages to each other. He wanted to be able to walk in here and tell us, like he just did, that their online correspondence was perfectly innocent, at least on his part. So he told Claire to open a secret e-mail account where they could openly talk, and they agreed to keep up the charade on MyDomain.”

  “Poor Claire,” Althea murmured sadly. “She must have been caught up in the excitement, the rush of sneaking around behind her father’s back and getting away with it. She’s thinking she’s having a secret rendezvous with her smart, sophisticated cyberboyfriend; all he’s thinking about is covering his tracks.”

  Damien nodded grimly. “So now the question is, which computer did she use to open the secret e-mail account? She knew she couldn’t do it from home, or else the IP address could be traced.”

  “That’s true. She could have gone anywhere to use a computer—school, the public library, an Internet café. And she’d probably go to the same place to check her messages and write him back. We have to talk to her friends, find out where she hung out a lot.” She frowned, questions swirling in her mind at warp speed. “How did Odem go about suggesting the idea to her in the first place? Did he risk sending a letter or a package to her house? Or somewhere else? Damn it. We’ve got to get our hands on those message transcripts ASAP.”

  “I agree,” Damien said, straightening from the wall. “In the meantime, I’m gonna talk to Mayhew to see about putting a tail on Odem.”