“So cool,” Ruben answered his tone sarcastic.
“Trust me,” McGregor said. “I’m no happier about having a creepy klepto on my staff than you are.”
For once, they were in agreement.
“Looks like we’re gonna need to stretcher this one out,” Joshua said. “There’s no way we can get the gurney up those narrow stairs.”
Joshua was right. It was time to move onto the case. They couldn’t let Joshua’s appearance throw them off their game.
Nicole turned to Ruben. “Have you interviewed the parents yet?”
Ruben shook his head. “I was waiting for you. The mother is pretty shook up.”
Nicole could imagine. Not only was there a dead girl in her house, but her own daughter was missing. Was this some kind of sick kidnapping play? Leave one dead to up the ante for ransom for the other.
Trotting down the steps, Nicole found the father and mother on the couch. The father had his arm wrapped around the mother’s shoulders, apparently holding her up. The woman’s eyes were rimmed with red, her face puffy. She had been crying heavily for a while. No mystery why that was.
The husband rocked his wife back and forth, rubbing down her spine.
Ruben hung back at the doorway. As much as he tried to present himself as the more politically correct version of Kent, in some ways, he was just as bad as the profiler. Ruben let her take all the “touchy-feely” stuff. Bereaved parents, hysterical crack heads, and shut-down children.
The problem was Nicole wasn’t all that “touchy-feely” herself. She hated this much as Ruben did, but she wouldn’t shirk her duty. Besides, there wasn’t room in that doorway for two.
She sat across from the parents. “Mr. Henderson, I am so sorry, but there are some questions I need to ask.”
“Please, call me Dean,” the man said. “And ask away. We want our daughter back.”
Ruben handed Nicole a garage door opener. “The only effect we found on the girl was this device. No key. Just this, so it must be how she got into the house.” Nicole said. “Didn’t you hear the garage door open in the middle of the night?”
Dean shook his head. “God, I wish we had, but it’s Roxy’s room that is over the garage.”
CHAPTER 2
Ruben watched as Nicole navigated the emotional minefields that were bereaved parents. The husband was trying to keep it together, but the effort was taking its toll. They really didn’t seem to have any idea of who the girl was upstairs or where their daughter was presently.
“Like I said, Roxy usually gives me a heads up if she’s going to be out all night.”
“And no response from any of your own calls or texts?”
Ruben stepped forward. “The techs say that her cell is either off or out of power.”
“More than likely, the battery is dead,” Dean said. “She’s always forgetting to plug it in. And then with all that Facebooking? We bought her a car charger, but she never uses it. Shouldn’t you be out looking for Roxy?”
“We’ve already put out a bolo on her car and alerted all airports, train stations and ports.”
“But where’s my daughter? Where?” the mother screamed.
Nicole stood up. “I don’t know, but we’re going to do everything we can to find her.”
Ruben opened the front door for Nicole. They exited out into the street. Ruben took back the controller and hit the button. The garage door opened. “These older models only have 256 combinations. This device may not even be Roxy’s.”
So much for any lead there.
“We might as well head back to the station,” he said. Standing around a crime scene feeling helpless wasn’t his style.
Nicole headed to her car, reminding Ruben just how far apart they had grown. Ruben could only take solace in the fact that it wasn’t Kent driving a car stolen from the police lot.
The drive was quick—Nicole was a bit of a lead foot. Ruben kept to the speed limit in his car.
He entered the bullpen to find Nicole already getting settled at her desk. She really was a speed fiend. Another bad habit she had picked up from Kent.
“Anything?” he asked as he smoothed his tie and sat down.
“Nothing. With the battery dead, the techs can’t track Roxy’s phone,” Nicole responded.
Glick walked out of his office. “Well, I may have something.” Ruben swung his chair around to listen to his Captain. “A family has been harassing Missing Persons regarding their daughter, but the department can’t take an official report until forty-eight hours.”
“On it,” Ruben stated, navigating to the Missing Persons database. Just because they didn’t take a report didn’t mean that they didn’t take down the information. He retrieved the address of the Ash family and grabbed his coat.
“I’ll drive,” Nicole said, picking up her keys.
Another bad habit she’d picked up from Kent, but Ruben wasn’t going to fight her on it.
Ruben had to duck down to get into Nicole’s Mustang. She revved the engine, then shot them out of the parking lot and into the street.
It turned out that the worried family only lived a few blocks away from the Hendersons. Ruben’s phone rattled. He picked it up to find a text from Jimmi, their techie. It showed a picture of the missing girl from the family that reported her missing. It was their sleeping beauty.
“This isn’t going to be an information gathering visit, it’s going to be a notification visit.”
Nicole sighed. These were the worst. At the least the Hendersons still had hope. Nicole and he were about to crush the Ashes’.
It was a little spooky as Nicole made the final turn down the Ashes’ street. This development looked identical to the Henderson’s, down to the fake shutters. Like he said, eerie. Déjà vu, almost.
Once Nicole pulled up to the curb, Ruben got out, clicking the remote control in his hand. The garage door opened. The probability that the girl had gotten lost and opened the wrong house was now looking more and more probable. How that helped in solving her death Ruben wasn’t quite sure.
He followed Nicole up the path to the Ashes’ house. The door flew open before they were even half way there. A very worried-looking couple poured out.
“Have you found her?” Mrs. Ash asked, high-pitched and shrill.
“I’m so sorry,” Nicole said.
The woman slumped to her knees before her husband could catch her. “No, no, no, no.”
“When was the last time you saw your daughter?” Nicole asked the father.
“Last night at dinner. When she didn’t come home…”
The man started sobbing as well, doubling over his wife in grief. Ruben looked past the couple to find two little boys standing in the hallway, the look on their faces one of horror. Children should never see their parents in such a state.
Ruben edged past the couple and gathered the boys up, herding them to their rooms. “Let’s go find something for you to play with.”
* * *
Nicole watched as Ruben escorted the children upstairs. She knelt by the grieving couple. What could you say in moments like these?
“She didn’t suffer,” Nicole said.
“How could you know that?” The wife asked. “How could you know?”
“Where is she?” The husband asked. “We want to see our baby.”
“And we will take you to her, but we need to ask you a few questions so that we can find out who did this to her.”
The husband urged his wife up and into the house. Nicole followed, listening to their sobs, heart-wrenching, soul-shaking sobs. This was the worst part of the job. Having to interfere with people’s grief. To force them to relive the most horrible day of their lives. Over and over again.
The guilt, the shame, the fear, the remorse.
Grief laid people bare.
Nicole sat down in a high-backed chair. The wife lay in a near ball on the couch. The husband wasn’t much better. He didn’t even have the strength to hold himself up, let alone the woman,
but rather than crying hysterically like his wife, instead, he sat staring straight ahead, not moving, not crying, not speaking.
Nicole had seen it before. Shock. Even though there were no physical wounds, the man was in as deep a shock as if he’d been shot.
But there was a killer out there who couldn’t be caught without more information.
“Did you know where your daughter, Megan, was going when she left last night?”
The father roused himself and looked, blurry-eyed, toward Nicole. “She had a study group. Her biology study group. She went every Tuesday night.”
“And what time did she usually come home?” Nicole asked.
“Around nine,” Mr. Ash answered.
“Always before nine,” Mrs. Ash said with a hiccup. “We called the police at nine thirty.”
“Did Megan have a boyfriend?”
Mrs. Ash shook her head side to side. “She was all about transferring to Harvard.”
“How about her girlfriends? Did you know anyone in her study group?”
“They should all be in her phone,” Mr. Ash stated.
“We didn’t find a phone with Megan,” Nicole said, texting Jimmi to find it ASAP.
“That thing is attached to her,” Mr. Ash insisted.
“We’ll find it,” Nicole reassured him. “Now I’ve got to ask, did Megan have any trouble with drugs or alcohol?”
Both parents this time vehemently shook their head. But that was parents. The fact was, Megan was so disoriented that she not only went into the wrong house, but got dressed in someone else’s nightgown and even brushed her teeth with the wrong toothbrush. Drugs were high on everyone’s list.
But what parent wanted to admit their kid had a substance abuse issue? Especially after finding out their child was dead. The halo that they put on the deceased usually blinded the family.
Once they found Megan’s phone and her friends, they would get way more accurate information on the girl.
“Alright, well let me get my partner and we can take you to view Megan.”
Mr. Ash pulled out his phone. “Dear God I’ve got to find a babysitter. Usually Megan…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Clearly Megan watched the boys if the parents went out.
Nicole rose and headed up the stairs. Hopefully, Ruben had better luck getting better intel from the boys.
* * *
Ruben studied a perfect, to-scale model of the Millennium Falcon. “You built this?” he asked the older boy, Johnny.
The child shrugged. “Yeah.”
“It’s sick,” Ruben said, trying to use the child’s generational language. Apparently, it worked.
“Thanks,” Johnny said squirming in his seat. He paused, then asked, “We should always tell the truth, right?”
Ruben sat down across from the lower bunk bed where the two boys sat. “Yes.”
“Always?” the boy asked.
“Yes, especially when lives are in danger.”
The younger boy, Tommy punched his older brother in the arm. “Don’t, Johnny. We promised.”
Johnny shoved Tommy. “I have to do what’s right.”
Ruben could identify with Johnny. The older kid always picked up the slack. When Ruben was ten, he didn’t have a five-hour bike route to buy toys like the Millennium Falcon, it was to help pay the rent for his mom and his four siblings.
“Johnny, any help you could give us would be very valuable.”
The boy squirmed some more, but finally looked up into Ruben’s eyes. “Megan had a boyfriend.”
Tommy sprang from the bed, wailing on his brother. “Don’t! You promised!”
Ruben picked the younger child up by the waist, holding him close as he thrashed, his anger and grief fueling his young muscles. Ruben didn’t want the boy hurting his brother, or even himself.
“She’s gone, Tommy,” Johnny said. “She would want the police to know.”
“Mom’s going to be so pissed!” Tommy shouted.
“It’s okay,” Ruben said, as soothing as he could. “She’ll understand.”
Although Ruben couldn’t be sure of that. Parents reacted differently under these circumstances. But Mrs. Ash’s response didn’t matter. They needed to know who was close to Megan.
“What’s his name?” Ruben asked as Tommy settled down in his arms.
“Deacon,” Johnny said. “He’s in her study group.”
That just cut about an hour’s worth of research out of the way. An hour closer to finding Megan’s killer.
“Are you sure?” Ruben asked.
“Yeah,” Johnny said as he picked up a stormtrooper action figure. “One day Meg had taken my Gameboy away because I wouldn’t share with Tommy, and I went into her room to find it. She came back, so I hid in the closet. She was talking to Deacon and was all kissy face. ‘No, you hang up first.’” The boy pursed his lips and made loud smacking sound. “I almost puked.”
Yep, that sounded like teenage love to Ruben. He put Tommy down as a soft knock came at the door. Ruben opened it to find Nicole with Mrs. and Mr. Ash right behind her. The husband was on the phone.
“Mrs. Ash?” Ruben asked, “Do you mind if we take a look in Megan’s room?”
The woman didn’t answer verbally, but she did nod her blotchy face several times. Tissues pushed up and under her nose.
Ruben guided Nicole down the hallway, leaning in to whisper. “Megan had a boyfriend.”
Nicole cocked an eyebrow. “Not according to the parents.”
“Ah, aren’t they always the last to know?”
* * *
If Nicole’s teenager years were any indication, Ruben was absolutely correct. This perfect “good girl” had another side to her. Didn’t they all?
They walked in to Megan’s room to find it immaculate. Not just clean but pristine. There wasn’t a book or sheet out of place. The girl had been living in a Better Homes and Garden ad. Sure, there were a few One Direction posters on the wall. But the most rebellious thing in her room was a Cheshire Cat night-light.
It didn’t feel like a teenager’s room. She’d felt this before. Kent had solved an entire case based on the lack of personalization before. But Nicole wasn’t Kent, much to her frustration, so all she could do was open drawers to find equally neat contents.
Nothing was out of place.
Nicole turned back to the door where Mrs. Ash stood watch. “Did Megan have a diary?”
The woman shook her head, dabbing her nose with tissue as Mr. Ash called out for his wife. “Cecily, what is Tiffany’s number?” Mrs. Ash left for downstairs.
“What teenage girl doesn’t have a diary?” Ruben asked.
“None that I know of. The question is finding it.”
“Psst,” a whisper came from the hall.
“Johnny?” Ruben asked, but the boy just indicated toward the dresser.
Nicole went over to it again and dug through the drawers. No diary. Before Ruben could ask for clarification, Mrs. Ash returned and urged Johnny downstairs. “The babysitter will be here in a few minutes.”
Nicole waited until Mrs. Ash left again before dropping to all fours.
“What are you doing?”
Nicole ran her hand under the dresser. Having younger brothers herself, she knew that anything as sacred as a diary would never be left to grubby little hands. Finally, her fingers met the edge of a book. She pulled the tape off and came out with a diary.
“Voilà!” she said, opening the tiny metal lock.
It was not a pleasant read. Someone identified only by the initial “D” had been doing awful things to the poor girl, plus she was terrified of a “W” and wanted to run away.
“The boyfriend’s name is Deacon,” Ruben mentioned.
“And Mr. Henderson’s first name is Dean. Maybe she didn’t just randomly wander into their house, after all.”
Ruben pulled out his phone. “I’ll have Jimmi track down Deacon and have uniforms bring him in.”
“I think ano
ther visit to the Hendersons is in order,” Nicole stated.
Ruben frowned, but nodded.
They covered the three blocks quickly. Nicole pulled up to the Hendersons’ house to find nearly an army of people streaming in and out of the house. Most held “Missing” signs. They had to elbow their way through the crowd.
Mr. Henderson rushed up to them. “Any word?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Nicole said. “But can we speak with you?
“Of course, anything,” he said, as his wife joined him. He draped his arm over her.
“In private?” Ruben suggested.
“We have no secrets,” Mr. Henderson said.
“Really,” Nicole insisted. “We should talk somewhere with less people.”
Mr. Henderson escorted them into his home office. The copy machine whirred as it produced more “Missing” flyers.
“What is it?” Mr. Henderson asked. “I’ve got another ten volunteers coming in a few minutes who I’ve got to brief.”
“You said earlier that you had no idea who Megan was,” Nicole stated.
“Is that her name?” the wife asked. “The dead girl? Her name was Megan?”
“Yes,” Ruben answered. “But we think your husband may already know that.”
“What?” the man said seeming genuinely surprised. But criminals were some of the best actors out there. Especially pedophiles.
“We have an indication that not only did you know Megan,” Ruben said, “but you knew her intimately.”
“I’ve never seen her before,” Mr. Henderson asserted. “Never.”
“In her diary she mentions a ‘D,’” Nicole added.
“Have you looked in the phone book lately?” Mrs. Henderson asked. “There are a lot of ‘D’s out there.”
“But Megan ended up here,” Nicole pressed. “Why?”
Mrs. Henderson wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist before she spoke. “I have no idea, and neither does Dean.”
“Maybe we should take this down to the station?” Ruben suggested, as a shout went up outside. Everyone poured from the office to find a group of people surrounding a young woman.
“Dad? What the hell is all this about?” the girl said.
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