No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  “So she never told you about the man she met online through MyDomain?”

  Heather shook her head emphatically. “Oh, I saw a few of the comments they left on each other’s pages, but I didn’t think anything of it. Claire said he was just some guy who was helping her with her music appreciation class. She said he was nice, really smart, and that was it. I didn’t know she was planning to meet him in person.”

  Althea searched her face and realized that the girl was telling the truth. “Why do you think Claire kept something like that from you?” she gently probed.

  Heather shrugged, looking aggrieved. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought I would make fun of her, because he’s older. She’s been really sensitive ever since she and Josh broke up. A lot of girls talked about her behind her back, saying Josh played her with Brandi. He really humiliated her.”

  Althea nodded, understanding all too well what Claire must have gone through. “So maybe that’s why she kept her online friend a secret,” she speculated. “She didn’t want anyone at school to find out she was hooking up with an older man because she’d already been embarrassed by Josh cheating on her.”

  “I guess so. But she should have known I wouldn’t tell anyone. She should have known she could trust me.” There was unmistakable hurt in Heather’s voice. Hurt and betrayal.

  Her lips twisted bitterly. “I’m sure she had no problem telling Courtney though.”

  Althea studied her for a moment. “Do you have a problem with her friendship with Courtney?”

  “No.”

  Lie, Althea thought.

  She waited patiently, and after a prolonged moment Heather blurted, “It’s just that she was always bragging about how cool Courtney is, how smart and sophisticated. Courtney could do no wrong. I got sick of hearing about her.”

  “That’s understandable,” Althea murmured. “Courtney’s on a different wavelength. She’s twenty-seven years old, she has her own place. A career. I can see how you would find it frustrating to have to compete with that. I’m sure Claire never meant to make you feel that way.”

  Heather sniffed, blinking back angry tears. “Well, she did.”

  They were interrupted by two volunteers who walked up, helping themselves to glazed doughnuts while Althea filled two cups of coffee. She served them quickly and sent them on their way, not wanting to lose ground with Heather.

  “Where were some of the places you and Claire liked to hang out after school and on the weekends?”

  Heather shrugged, bending to retrieve more Styrofoam cups from under the table. “The mall, I guess. Sometimes the park, to talk in private. But we hung out at her house a lot, went horseback riding and swimming in the lake.”

  “You didn’t hang out at any coffee shops or Internet cafés?”

  Heather frowned. “No. Why?”

  “I’m just trying to find out where Claire liked to spend her time. It’s possible that whoever took her may have seen her somewhere and followed her home.”

  Heather paled. “That’s scary,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is. But it happens, unfortunately.” Althea glanced up and saw Damien standing across the room, deep in conversation with Detective Mayhew and his partner, an attractive, thirty-something black man with a trim mustache and a stocky build.

  Althea stole a peek at her watch and saw that it was eight-fifteen. The task force meeting would be starting soon, and the teams of volunteers would be heading out into the cold for the ground search. She didn’t have much more time with Heather.

  She turned back to the girl. “You mentioned earlier that Josh had been acting weird ever since Claire went missing. What did you mean by that?”

  Heather shrugged. “I don’t know. In school on Monday he was really upbeat, even though everyone already knew what had happened to Claire. He was acting goofy in class—even goofier than usual. Cracking silly jokes, laughing at the dumbest things. Just weird.”

  “Are you saying he seemed almost happy that Claire had been kidnapped?” Althea asked.

  Heather’s alarmed gaze shot to her face. “I didn’t say that. Josh may be an asshole, but I don’t think he’d want anything bad to happen to Claire. He was still hoping they would get back together. He used to beg me to talk to her about giving him a second chance. But that wasn’t gonna happen.”

  “Because Claire didn’t want him back.”

  “No way. She despised him. After they broke up, she told me she didn’t know what she saw in him in the first place.” The girl shrugged dismissively. “I always thought she could do better than a dumb jock anyway.”

  Althea said nothing, wondering what lengths Josh Reed would go to convince Claire to take him back. Had he resorted to violence? If so, wouldn’t he have the sense to at least pretend to be distraught over her disappearance?

  But then again, Heather had called him a dumb jock.

  Switching gears for the sake of time, Althea said, “I got the feeling, from talking to Mr. and Mrs. Thorndike, that Claire and her stepmother didn’t always get along so well.”

  Heather snorted. “That’s an understatement. They never got along.”

  “Why?”

  “They hated each other’s guts. Claire thought Suzette was a slut, white trash. Suzette thought Claire was a selfish, spoiled brat.” Heather made a pained face. “I guess they were both right, to an extent.”

  Althea smiled a little. “Why did Claire think such terrible things about Suzette? Because she grew up poor?”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not the only reason,” Heather hastened to add, not wanting to sound like a snob. “She had other reasons, too.”

  “Like what?”

  Heather hesitated, her expression turning veiled.

  “Remember what I said,” Althea prompted gently. “Nothing is too small or insignificant.”

  Heather bit her bottom lip, then blurted, “Claire found out three months ago that Suzette slept with her stepson when she was married to her first husband.”

  “Which stepson?” Althea asked evenly, feeling like she’d hit the mother lode of dirt—and possibly a lead.

  “The younger one. Corbin, I think. He was sleeping with Suzette practically the whole time she was married to his father.”

  “I see. And how did Claire find out?”

  “She accidentally overheard them talking on the phone. She says Corbin called Suzette one day out of the blue, and Suzette seemed really angry and upset.” Heather frowned. “Claire thinks he was trying to blackmail her.”

  Chapter 22

  The task force chose a small community room down the hall from the main volunteer station for their war room. It was far enough away from the noisy hub of activity to afford them privacy, and it was already equipped with a conference table that accommodated the seven members of the team, which included Baltimore Police Commissioner Frederick Bell, Detective Mayhew and his partner Curt Johnson, Sheriff R. Jay Fisher, an assistant state’s attorney, and Althea and Damien, representing the Bureau.

  Althea was the last to arrive to the meeting. When she appeared in the doorway, murmured conversations died, the rustle of paper ceased, cell phones went silent. Six pairs of eyes latched onto her.

  She hesitated for a moment, heat crawling up her neck and seeping across her face. Not only was she the only woman in the room, she was also the only one who’d ever been kidnapped, held captive for weeks, presumed for dead.

  And, suddenly, for the first time ever, Althea realized how her ordeal could actually be an advantage to her. She’d survived the most harrowing experience of her life and come out stronger, tougher. Battle-tested. Everyone here knew who she was and what she had been through. No one could question her resolve, her intestinal fortitude.

  No one could question her cojones.

  Straightening her back, squaring her shoulders, and lifting her chin, Althea strode confidently and purposefully into the room. I am strong. I am invincible. I am woman, hear me—

  Damien rose from the table and pull
ed out her chair, ruining the moment.

  Althea muttered her thanks and sat down, making a mental note to chew him out when the meeting was over. Damn him and his chivalry!

  Once the formal introductions had been dispensed, the meeting got under way. Seated at the head of the conference table was Commissioner Bell, who had assembled the task force. A tall, lean man in his late fifties with a ruddy complexion, aristocratic features, and neatly trimmed silver hair, Bell possessed the polished veneer that the mayor had sought in a candidate who would bolster the BPD’s public image.

  He wasted no time grabbing the reins. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell any of you the tremendous pressure we’re under to find Claire Thorndike and apprehend her abductor,” he began intently, looking at everyone in turn. “The phones in my office are ringing off the hook from reporters and concerned citizens. I’ve got the mayor breathing down my neck every hour on the hour, wanting to know if we have any viable leads or suspects. The daughter of a prominent businessman has vanished without a trace. People start thinking if it could happen to someone like her, it could happen to anyone. That creates mass hysteria, an environment of fear, and one thing we don’t need in a city with our high crime rate is more fear.”

  He swept another glance around the table, as if daring anyone to contradict him. When he encountered stoic silence, he said, “So what have we got so far? Give me something to work with, something I can take back to the mayor before the candlelight vigil scheduled for Friday evening.”

  Looking like he’d rather not, Detective Mayhew stepped up to bat. “Right now we’re pursuing a number of different angles and motives for this crime. One of our theories is that a disgruntled former employee or contractor took Claire as a way of getting back at her father. Thorndike’s secretary provided a complete list of everyone who has ever worked for or with him, so we’re running the names through the system, conducting interviews, and sitting down with Thorndike to go through the list and basically identify anyone who may have despised him enough to go after his kid.”

  The commissioner frowned. “That’s no small undertaking. Thorndike has employed hundreds of people and has probably made twice as many enemies.”

  Mayhew snorted. “Tell me about it. But so far no one is standing out as being particularly vindictive toward him. We’re also going through a list of people who have had access to his property over the last sixty days. Again, no small task. The Thorndikes have thrown three dinner parties in the last two months. More than eighty people attended each party, but here’s the kicker: It was a different guest list for each one.”

  There were collective groans around the table.

  Bell scowled, undoubtedly realizing that zeroing in on a suspect wouldn’t be as simple or speedy as he would have liked, as his boss would have liked. In any large metropolitan police department, the commissioner or chief was an administrator, a spokesman, a politician. Frederick Bell was no exception. He didn’t understand the sheer amount of legwork that went into a criminal investigation, and any memories he had of being in the trenches and doing actual police work had long since faded as he climbed through the ranks, scratching and clawing his way to the top of the food chain.

  “What about teachers at Claire’s high school? Former employees?” he demanded.

  Mayhew answered, “We got our hands on a list of employees fired from the school within the last six months. We found a janitor convicted of felony check fraud who lied about his record on his application, but other than that, everyone checked out. No red flags on any of the current staff, either. And we’ve finished going through Claire’s computer. Other than the bookmarked site that led us to the P.I. she hired, we didn’t find anything else useful.”

  Bell asked, “What about this surgeon you interrogated yesterday? The media’s been buzzing about him all morning.”

  Mayhew traded grim looks with Damien.

  “Odem’s a slippery bastard,” Damien said darkly. “We know he’s lying about the extent of his online relationship with Claire, but without proof that he was there on the night she disappeared, our hands are tied. As his lawyer pointed out on the news this morning, Odem’s got no priors and he’s been nothing but a model citizen. Hell, he saves lives every day.”

  Althea interjected, “But if we can at least prove that he was planning to meet Claire in person that night, we have grounds for arresting him. If for nothing more than giving a false statement.”

  “Agreed,” Bell said with a brisk nod, obviously pleased at the prospect of having someone in custody. “You get that proof, you arrest him.”

  Althea nodded. “The message transcripts between him and Claire should be on my desk when I get back to the office. If Odem provided any conflicting information, we’ve got him. Who knows? If we rattle his cage hard enough, maybe we can get a confession out of him.”

  Mayhew snorted. “Hope springs eternal.”

  “You got a tail on him, right?” the sheriff asked.

  “Yeah, and at this point we stand a better chance of him leading our guy to a secret hiding place than confessing to the crime.”

  “He knows he’s being followed,” Damien said. “So he’s not going to go anywhere or do anything that would draw suspicion. Hospital, then home. Hospital, then back home. That’s going to be his new routine.”

  There were nods of agreement around the table.

  Detective Johnson grumbled, “I don’t like that Reed kid running around here, thumbing his nose at us while hiding behind his damn lawyer.”

  Bell lifted his shoulders in a negligent shrug. “It’s a free country. Mr. Reed is welcome to show up here to help with the search efforts if he so chooses.”

  “Yeah,” Mayhew muttered under his breath, “even if he might be the reason we’re having a damn search in the first place.”

  Bell frowned. “Just because the boy forgot to mention e-mailing Claire a week before she disappeared doesn’t mean he kidnapped her, Detective. In our urgency to identify a suspect, let’s resist the temptation to go on a witch hunt.”

  In the ensuing silence, Althea made a mental note to find out whether the commissioner and Josh Reed’s father, a wealthy industrialist, belonged to the same country club.

  Mayhew continued, “We’re also looking closely at Suzette Thorndike’s ex-husband, a retired physician named Patrick Farris. He and Suzette split up a few years ago, and she made out like a bandit in the divorce settlement.”

  Bell looked intrigued. “You think he kidnapped Claire to get back at his ex-wife?”

  The detective hitched his chin toward Althea. “Why don’t you explain the theory, Pritchard, since it was yours?”

  Althea hesitated. She had decided to wait until after the meeting to tell Damien what she’d just learned about Suzette Thorndike. Although the task force had been assembled for the purpose of sharing—not withholding—information, the reality was that anyone seated at this table could be responsible for the leaks to the press. While she trusted Damien implicitly, she didn’t know the others well enough to say the same, and she didn’t want to risk tipping off Suzette Thorndike before she had a chance to talk to her. Which she intended to do as soon as possible.

  But Mayhew had put her on the spot, so she’d have to give them something. In a carefully measured voice, she said, “I think it’s possible that Farris may be blackmailing Suzette Thorndike for ransom in order to recoup some of the money he lost in the divorce settlement.”

  The commissioner’s eyes bulged. “What? Are you suggesting that Spencer Thorndike’s wife may be involved in his daughter’s abduction? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Althea didn’t flinch at the shocked outrage in his voice. “I think it’s possible.”

  “Based on what?”

  “Based on the fact that we never rule out parents as suspects when a child goes missing,” Damien intervened, calm and implacable. “The reality is that Patrick Farris has motive for going after his ex-wife any way he can. Before their divorce, he was sued
for malpractice by five of his former patients who accused him of sexual misconduct. The lawsuit cost him everything—his practice, his medical license, his reputation, and then his marriage. On top of that, he has a criminal record. Last year he was charged with three counts of aggravated sexual assault. I think we can all agree that kidnapping Claire Thorndike would demonstrate a pattern of escalating violence, which fits the profile of the perpetrator we’re looking for.”

  The room fell silent.

  Bell pursed his lips, looking grim. “All right. I agree. Farris is a very strong suspect. But I’d rather assume he’s working on his own, rather than conspiring with Suzette Thorndike.”

  Because that scenario is more politically expedient, Althea thought cynically. Bell was a smart politician who understood the ramifications involved in accusing the wife of a prominent businessman of kidnapping. Spencer Thorndike was one of the richest, most powerful men in the tri-state area, which meant he could make it very difficult for the commissioner to keep his job if he chose to do so. Bell knew that going after Suzette Thorndike was a surefire way to turn her husband into a formidable enemy.

  “Have you questioned Farris yet?” Bell asked Damien.

  “Not yet. He’s visiting his oldest son and daughter-in-law in Virginia this week. Our agents in Richmond are staking out the house, but so far they haven’t observed any suspicious activity. Farris is supposed to return home tomorrow. His neighbor promised to call and let me know when he arrives.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Solomon’s Island. Agent Pritchard and I will be checking out any abandoned buildings and warehouses in the area and conducting surveillance on Farris’s home to see where he goes and what he comes back with. Then we’re going to pay him a friendly little visit.”

  Bell nodded in satisfaction. “That sounds like a solid plan. The task force can reconvene on Friday to find out what, if anything, the two of you learned. I’m familiar with Solomon’s Island. Pretty little fishing village, but very remote. Farris could have a stash of bodies in an old boathouse and we would be none the wiser.” He glanced at his expensive watch. “I’m afraid we have to wrap this up. I have a meeting at the mayor’s office, and then we’re heading over to the Thorndike estate for the reward announcement.”