Now, Gina was missing. Gone. No trace. The story had been front page in the Seattle Times yesterday and this morning. Even the morning edition of the national news had picked up the story and started running with it. “Local Business Heiress Vanishes.”
Her picture was all over the local television news. According to the reports, Gina had not been seen since last Thursday. No clues, no ransom demand—no nothing. The police effort had started slowly, as is typical in an adult missing person case, but the press reports indicated that this was changing now. Gina’s lifestyle didn’t seem consistent with someone who’d simply disappear. The papers said her purse, her driver’s license and credit cards, and all her personal effects were found locked in her apartment. Her car was parked in its normal space. It certainly sounded unusual at the least. Maybe even suspicious.
When I first saw the newspaper accounts, I’d thought of calling the family to offer my services, but I hadn’t. I’m not sure why. Finding missing persons is one of the things we do, but I don’t know, maybe it was because the timing didn’t seem right yet. The police were starting to get fired up over the case, and they probably wouldn’t welcome my uninvited help. I couldn’t figure out how to bring it up with the family—I didn’t want to just barge in. Anyway, I hadn’t made the call.
~~~~
“Robbie,” I said, walking to meet him as Toni brought him into my office. We shook hands. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Danny. It’s been a long time,” Robbie said.
“It has. I’m so sorry to hear about Gina.”
“Thanks. I guess you saw the news—seems everyone has. It’s not too hard to figure out why I’m here.” His voice wavered—he was clearly scared. I’ve seen people in this situation before and I felt really bad for the guy.
“She’s gone, Danny,” he said, “and my family’s scared to death. My parents flat adore her. She’s their baby.” He paused, then added, “I swear, if anything bad’s happened to her, it’ll probably kill them.”
I nodded that I understood.
“I’m here to ask for your help,” he said. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles and looked as though they were on the verge of tearing up. He looked whipped. His normally stout, six-foot frame was bent; his shoulders hunched. There were lines that appeared to be etched into his forehead. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days.
“I understand,” I said. “I’m eager to help. Let’s talk for a few minutes about what we might be able to do.” I nodded toward Toni. “Robbie, first let me introduce Toni Blair. Toni’s an associate of mine. If we end up deciding that my firm can help your family locate Gina, Toni will be in on it with me. She’s been with me since I opened the doors here. If it’s okay with you, I’d like her to sit in with us from the start. That way, she and I can compare notes later and make sure we don’t miss anything.”
Robbie looked at Toni and nodded.
“I’m glad to meet you, Robbie,” Toni said, shaking his hand. “I’m real sorry about your sister.” There’d been no time to brief Toni on what was happening, but it really wasn’t necessary anyway. She’s one of those unusual people—the kind that you never see studying, but they always seem to know everything that’s going on around them. More than that, I’ve noticed she has the unique talent of being able to put people at ease quickly. Her sincerity is genuine and shines right through. People respond well to her, as Robbie did now.
“Thanks,” he said, his face brightening a little. “I appreciate that.”
I directed Toni and Robbie to the little conference table in my office. “Let’s have a seat, and you can tell us what’s happened.” They sat down while I grabbed a notepad for me and one for Toni before joining them.
“Robbie,” I said, “I should start by saying we don’t know anything—only what we’ve seen on the news and in the paper. For a number of reasons, that’s not always very reliable.” At least at first, the press tends to report what the police feed them. Oftentimes, the police hold things back for tactical reasons. We needed all the information. I continued, “We’re going to take notes while you start at the beginning and tell us everything—everything you know—even the little stuff.”
He nodded. “Okay.” He looked at the water outside for a few moments while he seemed to gather his thoughts. He cleared his voice before starting.
“Gina works for the company—that is, my dad’s company: Pacific Wine and Spirits. She and I both work there. This past Friday, she didn’t show up for work.”
Toni and I both took notes as Robbie spoke.
“We called her and left messages at her condo and on her cell. We got no answer, no calls back. I sent her e-mails and text messages—again no answer. This isn’t like her—Gina never misses work. She won’t even be late for an appointment unless she calls first. By Friday afternoon, we were really starting to get worried. Cindy Dunlap, our HR director, and I decided to go to her apartment and check it out.”
“You have a key then?” I asked.
“Yeah. Gina and I have always exchanged front door keys and keys to each other’s cars so we can help out in case the other is out of town or something.”
“Or in case you lock yourself out,” Toni said.
“Right. I opened her condo and went inside and saw that she wasn’t there. At first, I was relieved. Then I noticed her purse was on the counter and her keys, too. When I saw the keys, I went back outside and saw that her car was in its parking space. I hadn’t noticed it on the way in.”
Toni raised her hand suddenly. “Let me interrupt you for a second, Robbie,” she said. “Before you get too far into what’s happened over the past few days—I apologize—I should have been more clear and asked a few background questions first. I need you to back up so that we can get a few basic things out of the way.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said.
“No, it’s not you,” Toni said, “but I don’t know anything about Gina—only what I’ve seen on TV or read in the paper in the last day or so. For instance, I don’t even know her full name or how old she is.”
“Oh,” Robbie said. “I see. Her full name is Angelina Theresa Fiore. She’s twenty-seven, born on June 14, 1984.”
“Her physical description?”
“She’s five feet two inches, about 105 pounds. Long, dark hair.”
“Any distinguishing marks? Tattoos, piercings—that sort of thing?”
“No, nothing.”
“Married?”
“No, never.”
“Home address?”
“Three twenty-seven West Olympic Place, unit 304, here in Seattle,” Robbie said.
“That’s right near where my dad lives,” I said, thinking of the house where I grew up.
“Yeah, I guess we all end up coming back to Queen Anne sooner or later,” Robbie said.
Toni scribbled furiously on her notepad. “How do you two guys know each other?”
“High school,” Robbie said. “Danny and I graduated from Ballard High in 2000. Gina was two years behind us.”
“And church, too,” I said.
“That’s right,” Robbie agreed. “Both our families attend St. Joseph’s on Capitol Hill.”
Toni nodded. “I see. Did Gina go to college here?”
“Yes, she graduated from U-Dub with a degree in business finance in—I think—2006.”
“That sounds right,” I added. “I went out with Gina for a bit in late 2006. She’d just recently graduated then.”
Toni glanced up at me for an instant, then looked back at her notes. She wrote for a minute without speaking. The room grew quiet.
“Anything else on the background?” I asked her.
She finished writing and flipped back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face before she looked up. “No, that’s good. That helps for now,” she said. “Okay, Robbie. Back to current time. You’re in Gina’s condo. You’ve noticed that her purse and keys are still there and her car, too.”
“Yes. After I saw all of Gina’s st
uff—her purse and her keys—in there, that’s when I started to get worried. She wouldn’t go anywhere without telling us, and she certainly wouldn’t go anywhere without her purse or her keys. So I called the police to report her missing.”
“Did the police send someone out?” I asked. The notion that you have to wait forty-eight or seventy-two hours before filing a missing person report with the police is an old wives’ tale. On the other hand, just because you filed a report, the police wouldn’t necessarily do anything right away unless there was suspicion of foul play, or unless the missing person suffered from some sort of mental condition that could put him- or herself in danger.
“They did. They were very prompt, as a matter of fact. They sent two people—a detective and a patrol officer. They looked around her condo a little and filled out a missing person report. They told us that they’d file the report, but that there wasn’t much that they’d be able to do, at least not initially. I went straight over to my parents’ home right afterward and told them what was happening.” Robbie paused and looked around, then said, “Would I be able to get a bottled water from you?”
“Of course,” I said. I hopped up and grabbed him one off the credenza.
He took a long drink and then continued. “They pretty much freaked out. My dad called Gary Frohming—our family lawyer. Gary must have had some pull with some higher-ups at the police department because later that same afternoon, the police called back. They sent out two different guys. They interviewed us and took another report.”
Never hurts to have friends in high places. I knew Gina’s dad, Angelo Fiore. He was “plugged-in” socially and politically. If anyone had friends with pull, it would be Angelo.
“We’re still talking about last Friday, August 12?” Toni said.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Do you remember who these two guys were?” I asked. “If we’re able to help out and take this case on, we’ll have to coordinate with them.”
“I do,” Robbie said. “I have their cards.” He reached into his jacket, pulled out two business cards and handed them to me.
“Dwayne Brown,” I said, reading the names off the cards. “I know Dwayne Brown pretty well. I don’t think I’ve met his partner, Symanski, but I’ve worked with Dwayne in the past.”
“He’s the guy that was at our open house?” Toni asked. “The one you worked with while you were in the army?”
“Yeah,” I said. I was a U.S. Army CID Special Agent at Fort Lewis with the sixth MP-CID Group for three years from 2005 to 2008. Dwayne was with the Seattle PD. We worked on three or four cases together. “Dwayne’s a good guy.”
“He’ll cooperate with us?” Toni asked.
“Most likely,” I said. “Unless he’s being told not to by his bosses.”
“Okay,” Toni said, focusing back on Robbie. “So Robbie, you said the police came out—where’d they interview you?”
“The second time, they talked to all of us at my parents’ home.”
“We’ll talk to them separately, but did your parents have any information they were able to add?”
“No, not really. My mom said that Gina was supposed to have come over that Friday night. Dad didn’t know anything at all.”
“After the interview, did the police visit Gina’s condo and do any sort of investigation there?”
“Yes. The next day—last Saturday—they sent a whole team of people out. They photographed everything and took some of Gina’s things—pictures and bathroom stuff, mostly. They collected some fibers from the carpet. Oh, and they took a cup from the sink. On the way out, though, Detective Brown told me that there didn’t initially appear to be anything unusual or suspicious about the condo—aside from the fact that Gina wasn’t in it and all of her personal stuff was.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Sounds like a CSI investigation. I’ll follow up with him about that.”
“As a matter of fact, their jackets said ‘CSI’” Robbie said.
I nodded.
“I have a question,” he said.
“Shoot.”
“The CSI people took her hairbrush and put it in an evidence bag. Why would they do that?”
I looked at him. “It’s standard procedure. They’re collecting a DNA sample. It’s required by Washington law for identification in missing person cases.”
“Identification?” he said. “Why don’t they just—” He stopped and then said, “I see. It’s so that in case they find a body . . .”
“That’s right. In case they find a body, they can make a positive ID using a DNA sample, even if the body is otherwise unrecognizable. Don’t try to read anything into this—it’s standard procedure and good police work.”
He was silent for a second, then he said, “I guess it’s hard not to read anything into it when you’re talking about collecting a DNA sample to potentially identify the body of your sister.”
“I understand,” I said, “but I honestly don’t think it’s going to come to that.” I looked him in the eyes. “Look, Robbie, I’ve worked through several adult missing person cases over the years. And I know you’re probably scared to death, and you have a right to be. But I need to tell you, the odds are very good that Gina’s fine. She’ll either come waltzing home all by herself or the police, maybe with our help, will find her and she’ll be okay. It may be hard to think that now, but that’s probably what’s going to happen. Understand?”
He nodded. I continued. “The hard part for you and your family’s going to be dealing with the unknown, and particularly, dealing with the wait—the wait while the process plays out.”
Robbie nodded again.
“Because of this, you guys are going to face challenges and scenarios you’re not used to. As you go through them in your minds, these possibilities will run from simply unpleasant to downright horrible—the worst things that could ever happen to a family. You’d never have to consider these things in your normal, day-to-day lives. We’ll talk about these things—no sense locking them in a closet and then avoiding them altogether. As a matter of fact, when the time comes, we should talk about them so that you can develop rationally based expectations. Part of what we can offer is a little counseling—we can help provide you with some logic and context to all the possibilities. When we do this, you’ll see that the reality is that the odds of these really bad things happening to Gina are very low, even though you’re probably scared shitless now.”
He nodded. “We are—scared, I mean.”
I nodded. “That’s understandable and to be expected. For now, though, my advice to you is this: don’t dwell on the unpleasant possibilities. You’ll just scare yourself even more. And if you are scared, then your parents will be scared to death—scared at a time when they need your strength the most. Make sense?”
He nodded.
“Be strong for your parents; they’ll need your support. Take my advice. Bottle up the fears so you can channel your mental energy into something productive—liking helping to find Gina.”
He nodded. “I appreciate that, Danny.”
“No problem. But while we’re on this line of touchy questions, have the police said anything about ransom demands?” I asked. “Have they set up a recording system or some sort of monitoring system on your phones? I’m assuming there’s been no contact at all by anyone with anything to do with Gina regarding any sort of ransom?”
“Yes, they are monitoring my mom and dad’s phone. They set it up Saturday. But you’re right—we haven’t heard a word from anyone that would make us believe she’s been kidnapped,” Robbie said. “No calls. No letters. No e-mails.”
“Good,” I continued. “Now back to our questions. Let’s shift gears and talk about Gina and her behavioral traits. I know Gina from high school and from our brief time together in 2006, but this doesn’t amount to much—especially now, five years later. What can you tell us about her?”
“Well,” Robbie said, “she’s supersmart. She works hard. She’s outgoing. She’s
usually happy, although she does have a temper. She’s focused. She’s a great manager at work.” This meshed perfectly with the Gina I remembered. It didn’t sound like she’d changed at all.
“Question,” Toni said. “When you say ‘usually happy,’ how had she been acting for the few weeks before last Thursday?”
“Maybe a little different,” Robbie said. He thought for a few seconds, then said, “I wouldn’t call it unhappy. She never seemed unhappy. If anything, I might call it preoccupied. Like when you have a big project at work and it demands all your attention.”
“Was there anything going on at work that would have caused her to be preoccupied?” Toni asked.
“That’s the thing. There’s nothing. It’s a pretty routine time for us. No expansions, no new distributor lines, nothing.”
“Business is good?”
“Business is very good,” Robbie answered. “Seems the worse the economy gets, the more people want to drink. Since Gina took over the finance department five years ago, our profitability’s gone through the roof.”
This made sense. I’d have been surprised if she’d have been anything other than an excellent business manager. I said, “So she didn’t mention anything at all that might have caused her to be preoccupied?”
“No—at least, not to me.”
“How often do you speak to your sister?” Toni asked.
“She heads the finance department; I head operations. We work in different ends of the same building. We’d talk about business every couple of days, sometimes more often. We had weekly staff meetings with all the department heads. And we’d meet at mom and dad’s place for lunch sometimes, usually on Sundays.”
Angel Dance (Danny Logan Mystery #1) Page 2