Nothing.
He scanned the long row of names and buzzer numbers. Meaningless.
He ran his fingers across the buttons, when a number came to him: 308.
He keyed it into the pad and waited. One ring. Two. Three.
No one answered. Xander swore. He tried to concentrate, but the same numbers circled around his mind. He punched them in again. He was sweating now, hands shaking. Hungry. Tired. He needed help.
The buzzer rang but no one picked up.
Wrong building?
There were two others down the street. Xander started for the entrance of one of them when the lobby door was yanked open.
“Xander,” she called, looking every bit as panicked as he felt. “Where have you been?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
He couldn’t remember a single thing about the night. Not even how he ended up here. His mind was blank.
Her expression froze. Her amber eyes filled with icy dread.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t remember.”
Her lips parted in a sob, and she threw her arms around him. He hugged her back. Both of them refused to say what they both feared was true.
Time was running out.
“Tory,” he whispered.
Her name was Tory.
Chapter 35
Seven in the morning and it was freezing outside. A thick blanket of mist hovered over Green Lake. A park surrounded the lake. Ringed with trees, it was designed as an urban playground for thousands of city dwellers. Seth used to come here with Holly. They spent many long summer afternoons in a canoe drifting around the lake. Those days were a distant memory as Seth stood on a paved path outside the Community Center. He stamped his feet, trying to keep warm, but the way the dampness cut through his layers of workout gear, he might as well have been naked.
He’d received a cryptic text message an hour ago, and after swearing and chugging down some coffee, he got his ass down here to meet Henry and Henry’s friend. Lia Russo was a genetic councilor and Henry thought she might be able to shed some light on the case.
Seth wondered if meeting here was Henry’s idea of a joke. A three-mile run around the lake would be torture if Seth was hung over.
But here he was, on time and stone-cold sober. And still not up for a run. A pair of joggers passed by, looking stylish in their gray spandex workout gear, pink shoes, and matching gloves. Breath billowing around them, they conversed as easily as if they were sipping coffee at Starbucks.
Henry emerged through the trees. Head lowered, hands shoved into his pockets, he looked a little green around the gills. He wore a bright blue, long-sleeved T-shirt that read “Running Sucks.” Seth smiled.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Seth called out, falsely bright. Henry glowered.
“She’s not here yet?”
“Guess not. Was this your bright idea?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward another pack of early morning joggers.
“Me? Hell, no. Do I look like I’m up for a run?”
Henry shoved his gloved hands in his armpits and scowled. He looked hung over. Seth let the comment pass, not wanting to rehash the scene at the bar.
“Have I mentioned how much I hate scotch?” Henry asked.
Inwardly, Seth cringed.
“You seemed to like it just fine yesterday,” he joked, making light of his embarrassment.
“I took one for the team.”
If not for Henry’s interference, he would have done something stupid. He wouldn’t forget it.
“Thanks, man.”
Another jogger passed. A pregnant woman who looked like she was in her third trimester. Despite her size, she moved like the pregnancy hadn’t even slowed her down. Seth envied her athletic gait.
“Lia is a fitness nut,” Henry said. “This was her idea.”
“To go running?”
“Yep.” Henry curled his leg, grabbed his ankle, and stretched his quad. “I joined a yoga class in college to meet her.”
“Oh, so she’s an ex?”
Henry nodded. “She’s also a genetic councilor. I thought she could help us interpret the test results I found in Becky and Suzie’s medical records.”
“Doesn’t she have an office?”
“She’s attending a conference this week, so her schedule is pretty full.” Henry scanned the pack of joggers running toward them. “There she is.”
With a feeble wave, he stretched his other quad. The woman striding toward them was dressed in black and teal workout gear. Though petite, she looked strong, with an athletic build. Her curly hair poked out from beneath a teal headband. She slowed as she passed by Seth.
“Henry,” Lia called. She wrapped her arms around him in a friendly hug. He pecked her cheek.
“Lia, this is Seth Crawford, the investigator I work with.”
Seth held out his hand and she shook it. Her grip was firm.
“Good to meet you. Any friend of Henry’s is a friend of mine.”
“Ah, good. It looks like you’ve already been for your run,” Henry said, looking hopeful. “Coffee is on me.”
“Twelve miles this morning. This is my cool down lap.” Henry groaned. She gave him a playful swat in the belly. “Come on. It will be good for you.”
“Says you.”
“So, tell me about this case you’re working on. How can I help?”
Lia started to jog. Seth fell into step beside her. Henry lagged behind.
“We’re trying to find two missing pregnant women,” Seth said, his heart rate picking up. “Henry found something in their medical records.”
“Like what?” she asked, looking back at Henry, her eyebrows arched.
“Genetic tests,” he huffed, pumping his arms and looking as if he might vomit. “Not the run of the mill sort.”
“Run of the mill?”
“You know. Downs. Spina bifida.”
Lia turned and ran backward in front of Henry, keeping perfect pace.
“Same tests on both women?”
Henry nodded and reached for his pocket. “I have them with me, if you want to take a look.”
She plucked the folded sheets from Henry’s hands. Speeding up, she rounded a curve. Seth lost sight of her but kept on jogging, while Henry slowed to a walk.
He spotted Lia through a stand of tall pine trees and maples. Their long shadows fell across the path. Lia was standing near the Bathhouse Theater, just feet away from where he had investigated a rape case years before. The cop in him wanted to warn her about the dangers of jogging alone, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t his place.
Henry caught up to them, red-faced and sweating. Lia studied the papers in her hands.
“So these tests are designed to detect mutation in five genes. The MAPT, GRN, TARDBP, VCP, and CHMP2B.”
“In English?” Henry gasped, hand splayed across his heaving chest.
“In plain terms, mutations to these genes could represent the onset of a condition. Tell me more about the patients.”
Henry held up a hand, struggling to catch his breath. Seth jumped in.
“These women are both in their late teens.”
“Late teens?”
“That surprises you?”
“Any sign of memory loss in either patient? Family history of Alzheimer’s or Dementia?”
“I don’t think so, why?” Seth asked.
Lia bit her bottom lip and cocked her head like she was trying to work out a problem.
“Because these are the types of tests I’d expect to be run on someone displaying signs of Alzheimer’s, not a healthy young woman.”
Lia handed the test results to Seth. Henry doubled over, his palms propped against his knees. Seth traced the line of her logic.
“So you might run these types of tests if there was a family history of the disease?”
Lia nodded. “Along with behavioral markers like memory lapses. It’s extremely rare to see memory loss in patients so young.”
Seth exchang
ed looks with Henry, trying to figure out where this puzzle piece fit.
“Why order these tests?” Henry asked. “Marissa said the families didn’t have a history of genetic problems.”
“You should ask their doctor.”
“Both girls went to a clinic,” Seth explained. “They didn’t have health insurance, family doctors.”
“The same doctor ordered both tests. Dr. Wilcox.”
Lia handed the test results back to Seth and pointed out the doctor’s name.
Aw, hell.
Somehow he’d missed it. The doctor at the clinic. His name was Wilcox.
“Okay can I call you if we have more questions?” Henry asked, finally catching his breath.
“Of course. I love a good mystery.”
Chapter 36
“It’s like Wilcox quit his life nine months ago. Something must have happened.”
Henry looked up from his computer. “What have you got?”
Seth grabbed a whiteboard marker and wrote down the facts.
“He grew up in Washington State. Completed his undergrad and med school at Stanford. Worked as a surgeon in Chico, California.”
“Married?”
“Single.”
“Probably married to his work,” Henry said, looking back at his computer.
Wilcox wasn’t the only one guilty of that crime. Holly had said as much when their relationship fell to pieces. And, when things got difficult between him and Marissa, he did what Holly had accused him of doing. He was making the same mistakes over and over.
“Something made him change his pattern,” Seth said, capping the marker.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. People just don’t go off without a reason. A catalyst.”
“You mean like the guy who loses his job and shoots up a McDonalds?”
“Extreme example, but yeah. He left his job in Chico and then disappears only to reappear at a Planned Parenthood in Kent. Why?”
“Botched surgery?” Henry suggested. “Personality conflicts. Addiction.”
Criminal record, Seth wrote on the board.
“Hmm . . . This is weird,” Henry said. “Before he left his job in Chico, he was involved in a car accident. He was charged with a hit and run.”
“Convicted?”
“Settled.” Henry clicked on the record and opened it. “Woman in a blue Toyota Camry is stopped at a busy intersection, waiting to turn left. Apparently, Wilcox got tired of waiting, because he slammed into the back of her car and pushed it all the way through the intersection. Gotta love road rage. Wait a minute.” Henry tilted his head and leaned close to the screen. “This is interesting. The driver at the Camry says that Wilcox was yelling, calling her a moron. Then he throws a twenty-dollar bill through the window claiming the money should cover the damages, and then he drives away, like nothing happened.”
“Bizarre,” Seth agreed. “Got video of the accident?”
“Yeah. Cops track him down by his plate number. They find him at the hospital and assume he had an emergency, which was why he left the scene, but that wasn’t the case at all. According to Wilcox’s statement, he claimed she was an overly cautious driver and that he had no idea what the big deal was. She wasn’t hurt. He paid for the damages.”
Henry called up the video footage. It showed the Camry stopping at the intersection and the BMW slamming into the back of it.
“He didn’t even slow down,” Henry said as the video from the traffic camera continued to play.
Seth didn’t comment. He watched as Wilcox exited his vehicle. Medium height, medium build. Glasses. He was screaming as he marched toward the woman in the Camry.
“Henry, can you zoom in?”
Henry grunted, made a few adjustments until the doctor’s face came into focus.
“That’s him all right. I asked him about the redheaded nurse.”
“So he knows we’re looking for her?”
“Shit.” Seth threw the marker across the room. “I’m an idiot. He was sitting right in front of me and I missed it. We need to figure out where he is. Fast.”
“I’ve traced the payments to an offshore back account. I’m still digging to find out more but a hundred grand was deposited into the same account six days ago.”
Seth whistled. “Where did it come from?”
“The account the payment came from is registered to a financial analyst named Jared Binghurst.”
“What’s it for?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. It’s not the only payment. There are six more.” Henry did a search on Binghurst to see what he could find. Checked his professional profile. Social networks. “Whoa. This guy takes security seriously.”
“You can’t get in?” Seth asked.
“He’s got access to his personal information locked down pretty tight. It’ll take time to get to the next layer.” Henry frowned and kept searching. “But his wife, on the other hand, is an open book.”
Henry clicked a link to Sara Binghurst’s Facebook page. It showed a photo of Jared and Sara Binghurst on the floor of their living room, posing with a newborn baby.
“Guess who recently adopted a son?”
Seth grabbed his coat.
“Keep digging into the financials to see what else you can find, Henry.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see Jenna Harris. We need to find out if Jared Binghurst bought himself a baby with that hundred grand.”
“And if that baby belongs to one of our missing girls.”
“One step at a time.”
Chapter 37
Marissa bashed her hand on the top of the printer. It whirred and clanked as it choked on a piece of jammed-up paper. Huffing out a breath, she swung a small door open above the paper tray and shimmied the crumpled paper loose.
Resetting the button, she sent the report again.
It was morning, and Marissa felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Her eyes were swollen and scratchy. She wanted to call in sick, but that’s not what grown-ups did. They didn’t hide from their problems, and she couldn’t hide from hers.
This time, the printer fired and spat five crisp sheets of paper out into a neat stack. It was the report she’d compiled for Evan on monthly donation models. She would have loved more time to polish it, but with the deadline looming large, it was the best she could do. For good measure, she’d included links for her source material in case Evan wanted to dig into the data himself.
Evan was sitting behind his desk staring at his computer screen, his chin slumped against his palm. He looked deep in thought and about as happy to be here as she felt this morning. She knocked on the door.
“Marissa.” He waved her inside.
“You busy?”
She half hoped he was so she could drop off the report and leave, but Evan shook his head.
“It’s fine. What’s up?”
He closed the lid to his laptop and turned his attention on her. He wasn’t looking his neatly pressed self with his hair a little mussed. A two-day growth of stubble sprouted along the line of his jaw.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Why?”
“It’s just you look . . .”
“Like I haven’t slept?” He sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair the same way Seth did when he was frustrated. “I’ve got a meeting with the board of directors and—and really I’m kind of stressed about it. Lizzie would laugh and tell me I’m being an idiot, but then she would have handled the situation in her sleep. For me, it’s not as easy.”
Marissa smiled. She liked this version of Evan. Seeing him flustered over a meeting made him more human.
“Is there anything I can help you do to prep?”
“Would you mind if I ran the presentation by you? I could use some feedback.”
The request surprised her. “Of course.”
“I can’t afford to screw this up.”
“You won’t,” she said.
His laugh was bitter. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I wasn’t supposed to be the one running the foundation. Lizzie was.”
It was easy to forget that he was as new at this as she was.
“Maybe it’s time you learned to trust yourself, Evan.”
Marissa saw the sudden shift in his expression.
“That’s something Lizzie would have said. I’ve been hard on you, Marissa. I’m sorry.”
“We’re all struggling. To be honest, Evan, I’ve never seen a financial model before. Lizzie knew what she was getting herself into when she hired me, but you expect more.”
“Too much?”
Marissa cocked her head and grinned. “Maybe, but I think Elizabeth would say that struggling through the hard things makes us stronger.”
“You’re right about that.” Evan’s smile took years off his face. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll email you the presentation. Let me know what you think. Now, I’m sure this is not what you came in here to discuss.”
“Oh, right.” She had almost forgotten why she dropped by. She handed him the report. “This is the research I’ve done on the donation models. It still needs some work . . .”
Evan thumbed through the report and paused on the final page. He spent a few minutes reviewing the recommendations before he spoke.
“You did all of this?”
“Not alone. I started off by doing some research, then spoke with a few experts.”
“It’s good.”
Marissa smiled. She breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed back into her seat. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but it wasn’t this.
“Elizabeth once said that fundraising is the heart of any foundation,” Marissa said. “These ideas will help us get started, but I don’t know the first thing about the financial intricacies involved in each of the options. I think we need to hire a consultant to help us implement a solution.”
Evan nodded. “We can’t afford not to do it. We’ve got to keep money flowing in to run the foundation. With Seth leaving we’ll have some extra funds.”
“What do you mean, Seth is leaving?”
The smile vanished from Evan’s face. “He didn’t tell you?”
Dark Harvest (A Holt Foundation Story Book 2) Page 22