The Gone Sister (A Private Investigator Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Lee Callaway #2)

by Thomas Fincham

  Callaway was beginning to fume. “Maybe you did not hear me. I’m Nina’s father and Patti’s ex-husband. Please go and get my daughter so I can speak to her.”

  “Maybe you did not hear me,” she said, raising her voice and getting closer to him. He took a step back. She looked like she could eat him. “Nina is not supposed to have any visitors.”

  He swallowed. Maybe I should come back another time, he thought.

  A little girl appeared behind the woman. “Daddy,” she squealed.

  She rushed out and gave him a big hug.

  Sabrina “Nina” Callaway was nine years old. She had dark hair, emerald green eyes, and a smile that could melt even a Russian gangster’s heart.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

  She frowned. “What happened to your face?”

  His hand moved toward his nose. “It’s a long story. Where’s your mom?”

  “She has a late shift tonight.”

  Patti was a nurse, and she worked long shifts at a local hospital. She worked hard to put food on the table and keep a roof over Nina’s head. On top of that, she had done an exceptional job raising her. Unfortunately, Callaway could take no credit for how bright his daughter was. Nina got Patti’s beauty and her brains. He just prayed she did not get any of his bad habits to balance everything out.

  “Come inside,” Nina said with excitement.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” the woman said. “I was told not to let strangers in.”

  “I’m not a stranger,” Callaway said, feeling offended. “Like I told you, I’m Patti’s ex-husband and Nina’s father.”

  “Then why aren’t you babysitting her?” the woman asked.

  She has a point.

  “Call Patti,” Callaway said. “Ask her if I can spend time with Nina. If she says no, I’ll leave.”

  Nina turned to him. “Dad, I don’t want you to go.”

  “Baby, we have to do what your mom says. She’s earned it.” Callaway meant every word. Patti had sacrificed so much for their daughter, and he had done diddlysquat. If he tried to undermine her authority, his behavior would negatively affect Nina. He did not want to be one of those parents who tried to sway their child against the other parent. He was grateful that Patti wanted him to be a part of Nina’s life. It was up to him to make the time to be there. Patti believed a girl’s development was strongly tied to her relationship with her father. Callaway hoped that one day he would make up for all the time he had lost.

  The woman saw how happy Nina was and said, “All right, I’ll call your mom and ask.”

  She went inside. Callaway held his only child. “So, how’s Grumpy Neighbor treating you?” he asked.

  “She’s nice. She’s teaching me how to bake cookies, cupcakes, and muffins.”

  I bet she likes eating them too, he thought.

  “I like her,” Nina said.

  He smiled. “If you like her, then I guess I can tolerate her too.”

  The woman returned. “Patti said you can come inside.”

  Nina jumped with joy and said, “Yay!”

  Callaway jumped with joy too, clapping his hands as he did.

  Nina rolled her eyes. “Mom’s right. You need to grow up.”

  He laughed and followed her in.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  The Chrysler had been taken to the police impound for testing. The vehicle would be stripped apart, and any evidence found would be photographed and tagged in case it needed to be presented at a trial.

  Once Holt and Fisher heard Bo Smith’s statement, they immediately requested a drug analysis on the Chrysler. The Milton Police Department now had access to quick testing methods, the same ones used at airports and border crossings.

  A swab test was conducted on the car’s glove compartment, and the test came back purple.

  The color was an indicator for heroin.

  A thorough testing would be conducted for the courts later, but the discovery was enough for Holt to pay a visit to his sister.

  With a heavy heart, he broke the news to Marjorie. She yelled and called him names he had heard his father call him when he did something wrong as a kid. He did not take her words personally. He had told her what no mother wanted to hear.

  Her beloved son may have died due to a drug deal gone wrong.

  “How dare you tell me Isaiah was selling... selling…”

  Marjorie could not get herself to say heroin. She cupped her hand over her mouth and fell on the sofa. She let out an anguished wail as she wrestled with her feelings.

  Holt’s eyes were moist as he watched her slump down in agony. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but he knew she would not let him. At that moment, he was the enemy. He had accused Isaiah of something unfathomable, and by extension, he had accused her of being a bad parent, someone who had raised a drug dealer.

  He turned to Brit, who was standing across from him in the living room. When his eyes met hers, he saw the same pain as in her mother’s. She burst into tears and rushed up the stairs. He heard her bedroom door slam shut a moment later.

  Dennis stood near the fireplace. He had not moved an inch. Holt looked to him for help, but Dennis refused to make eye contact.

  Holt was alone. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. He began to feel suffocated, as if someone was strangling him. Holt had suffered severe asthma as a child, and he began to feel like his condition was returning.

  He shut his eyes as hot tears streamed down his cheeks. He could not breathe. He was choking. He was going to die.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes. It was Marjorie. The venom she had for him a moment ago was replaced by concern.

  She wrapped her arms around him. He let her hug him. He needed her more than she could ever imagine.

  Dennis came over. He opened his mouth but no words came out. He stood there for a moment. He then placed his hand on Holt’s shoulder, held it there briefly, and then left the room.

  Holt was not sure how long Marjorie hugged him, but he was grateful for her gesture. She then looked him in the eye. “Isaiah was not into drugs, no matter what anyone says. He just wasn’t, Greg.”

  He stared at her. “How can you be so sure?” he slowly asked.

  “I’m his mother. I know it. And you know it too.”

  I thought I did, he thought, but right now I do not know what to believe.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  Callaway was on the sofa. Nina was curled up next to him with her head resting on his lap. They had been watching a movie when she fell asleep. He was worried she would want to watch a girly movie, but she surprised him by wanting to see a science fiction one. Even though he was relatively uninvolved in her daily life, she still shared some of his interests.

  As a kid, Callaway loved reading stories about robots, aliens, and spaceships. He dreamed of one day voyaging with the crew of the starship Enterprise. When he learned they were not real, he was heartbroken. But even then, the feeling of traveling through galaxies looking for adventure and discovering new life and new civilizations had not left him. Maybe that was why he was so restless, always looking for the next exciting opportunity to get involved in.

  The neighbor was in the kitchen. She only came out to see if Nina needed anything. Callaway had a feeling she would rather stare at the stove than spend a minute in the same proximity as him. He was perfectly fine with that. He would rather read an encyclopedia than have a conversation with her.

  He brushed the hair off Nina’s face. His little girl was growing up fast. Soon she would be a teenager and then an adult. She would start dating and maybe even get married.

  He always swore to be a bigger part of her life, but something prevented him from doing so. He knew the answer, whether he admitted it or not. Callaway did not know how to be a parent. He always found a way to mess it up.

  Nina was the most precious thing in the world, and he was afraid he would do something that could affect her development. He was known to get drunk whenever the opp
ortunity arose. He risked his life savings on sure bets, which turned out not to be on many occasions. He rushed into relationships with women, and just as quickly ended them.

  All in all, he was not the role model he wanted to be for his girl.

  The best thing he did, and the hardest, was to get out of the way of Nina’s growth. She was coming into her own as a person, and he did not want his influence to negatively affect her.

  Some could argue his way of thinking was a copout. He was avoiding the responsibility and sacrifice millions of parents made each day for their children. But Callaway would argue that not all people were made to be parents. There was no course, certificate, or test that told a person they could do the job and do it well. It was a learn-on-the-fly kind of thing, and Callaway did not trust himself enough to do a half-decent job.

  He worried he could damage Nina for the rest of her life by leaving her with emotional scars.

  He shuddered at the thought.

  He was an absent father—there was no doubt about that—but if his little girl found herself in some kind of trouble, he would drop everything and be there for her. He would lie, cheat, and steal to make the problem go away. He would even put himself in harm’s way to protect her.

  FIFTY-SIX

  Callaway heard a car approach the driveway and then come to a halt. A minute later, the front door opened, and he could hear footsteps in the hall.

  Patti’s home, he thought.

  The neighbor appeared from the kitchen and rushed to her. Callaway could not see them because his back was to the hall, but he could hear them.

  “Thanks so much for looking after Nina,” Patti said.

  “It’s no problem. Nina was a good girl.”

  “What about him?” she asked. “Was he a good boy?”

  He smiled. Patti had a great sense of humor. Even better than his.

  “I’m surprised you married a guy like him,” the neighbor replied.

  “We all make mistakes when we are young.”

  The smile on his face fell.

  Ouch, he thought.

  “Thanks again for taking care of Nina.”

  “No problem. Anytime.”

  He heard the front door close.

  Patricia “Patti” Callaway entered the room, and he immediately found himself breathless. Even after all these years, he could not believe he let her get away. She had short dark hair and brown eyes that were amazing lie detectors. Her lips were always curled into a smile no matter how bad things were in her life.

  She was wearing a coat over her green scrubs. She must be exhausted after a twelve-hour shift, he thought, but he still found her stunning.

  “You wanna grab your jaw off the floor or do you want me to do it?” she said.

  He did not realize his mouth was open. He shut it and realized his tongue was suddenly dry.

  She placed her purse on the floor, pulled off her coat, and sat across from him. She rubbed her feet and said, “What’re you doing here, Lee?”

  “I came to see Nina.”

  “Okay, sure,” she said, not believing him.

  “I missed her.”

  She stared at him and went back to rubbing her feet.

  “You’re not going to ask what happened to my face?” he asked, pointing at his bandaged nose.

  “I’m sure you deserved it.”

  Damn, he thought. She’s good.

  “Tiring day?” he asked.

  “Always is when you work at a hospital.”

  “Someone die on your watch?”

  She went silent.

  “Oh, sorry, that was insensitive.”

  “So, where’s the Charger?” she asked. “There’s a bucket of metal parked in my driveway.” She was referring to the Impala. Patti knew how much he loved his car. He would never go anywhere without it.

  “The Charger is in the shop.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “It needs a bit of work.”

  “I bet the same person who did that to your face also smashed up the Charger.”

  She is very good.

  “You can say that.”

  He looked around. “The house looks great. I’m glad you fixed it.” Patti had been saving up to renovate the house, but that was not easy while being a single parent. The roof had been leaking, the basement was flooding, and some of the windows needed to be replaced.

  “Thanks to you,” she said. “I even managed to upgrade the kitchen cabinets.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” He looked down at Nina and smiled. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly. She looked like an angel.

  “Do you mind putting her to bed?” Patti asked. “I was on my feet all day. I can’t carry her upstairs.”

  “I would love to,” he replied, overjoyed by the opportunity.

  He gently lifted her up in his arms. She was much heavier than he remembered, but she was older now, so this was to be expected.

  He carefully took each step so as to not wake her.

  He placed her head on the pillow and covered her body with a blanket covered in hearts. He then watched her sleep for a couple of minutes. He had made a lot of mistakes in his life, but Nina was not one of them.

  He went downstairs.

  Patti said, “You hungry?”

  He stared at her.

  “I got takeout on the way home. You’re welcome to share some.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Fisher found Holt behind his desk typing away on his computer. Even this early in the morning, she was not surprised to see him at the station.

  “How’s Nancy?” she asked.

  “She’s still at her mother’s,” he replied without looking up. “I’m inclined to leave her there until this case is resolved.”

  “You mean Isaiah’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “We don’t catch them all, you know.”

  “We will find the person who killed him,” Holt said with conviction.

  She wished she could believe that too. In her experience, the odds of solving a crime was very low. An investigation was a combination of grunt work and pure luck.

  If an investigation was like a mystery-room puzzle, where all pieces were scattered about and the players had to just find them, all investigations would be solved within hours.

  “What are you working on?” she asked.

  “I’m catching up on paperwork.”

  She spotted a newspaper on his desk. The front page headline read FALL FROM GRACE, BASKETBALL STAR’S SORDID LIFE WITH DRUGS.

  Isaiah’s high school graduation photo was next to the headline.

  Fisher scowled. How did the media get wind of the drugs so fast? Did somebody at the hospital blab, or was it somebody here? I hope it was the hospital, but if somebody here with a press connection talked, they better keep mum, or Greg is going to tear into them.

  She knew it was not unusual for reporters to cozy up to officers. The reporters got a scoop, and the officers got their names in print. In Isaiah’s case, no officer would dare say anything on the record. They preferred anonymity over finding themselves at the end of Holt’s fury. The reporters did not care either way. They got the story they wanted, and when the time was right, they would make it up to the officer by giving them a positive profile in the next story that involved them.

  “Does your sister know?” she asked.

  “I broke it to her last night.”

  “And?”

  “She doesn’t believe it.”

  “What about you?”

  Holt stopped typing and shrugged.

  “You can’t be serious,” Fisher said, surprised by his reaction. “You actually believe that headline there?”

  Holt finally looked at her. “I don’t believe it. I believe the evidence found at the scene.” He slid a document to her. “The lab report came back. There were traces of heroin in the Chrysler’s glove compartment. The result is one hundred percent conclusive.”


  “That still doesn’t prove Isaiah was involved in drugs,” she said.

  “What if he was?” Holt said. “There’s a lot we don’t know about the people we love. Isn’t that what you said to me back at the hospital?”

  She fell silent.

  “After our discovery, I remembered an incident I had forgotten about—or maybe chose to forget about. When Isaiah was sixteen, I caught him smoking pot behind his school. He was with other kids, and I happened to drive by when I saw him. He said it was his first time, but the way he inhaled the stuff told me it was not something new to him.”

  Fisher was quiet for a moment.

  “He was still a good kid,” she said.

  “He was,” Holt agreed.

  “And it still doesn’t change the fact that we have to find the person responsible for his death.”

  “It doesn’t,” Holt said firmly.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Callaway was behind his desk when he heard someone climbing the steps to his office. He stood up to check and saw Elle by the door.

  “You should not have come up on your own,” he said. “It’s not safe for you.” Rain had fallen earlier, and the metal steps were wet and slippery.

  “I managed fine, don’t you think?” she said with a brief smile.

  He guided her to the sofa. “How’re you feeling?” he asked. When he had left her apartment the night before, she was pretty down.

  “I’m feeling better, thank you,” she replied.

  Callaway looked at her face. Due to her blindness, he was unable to gauge her emotions. He could usually tell if someone was sad, angry, or confused just by looking them in the eye. The sociopaths or habitual liars were the hardest people to read. They were able to suppress their emotions deep inside them. But the eyes of average folks were a key to knowing what was going on with them. But with Elle, Callaway had to look for other indicators as to her mood.

  Elle gave him another brief smile. Callaway could tell it was forced.

  “I was going through the social networking sites for Linda Eustace,” Callaway said, “and I was wondering… is your family wealthy?”

  Elle shook her head. “No, my father worked in a cubicle his entire life. And my mother worked mostly administrative jobs.”