Gone Before Goodbye (Love &Mystery in the--6-oh-3 Book 1)

by Nora LeDuc

  The questions and ideas continued to jumble in her thoughts. Was Lisa alive? Scared?

  Near? Maybe, Teagan’s negative comments about Lisa’s boyfriend, Travis, drove her off. Teagan sighed. The other missing girl, Kara Linn, vanished three months ago, and the police had no clue of her whereabouts. Would the girl’s existence become a distant memory used by parents to warn their kids of the dangers that lurked in Hawick Falls?

  Teagan rubbed her burning eyes. She had to stop the unhelpful musings. Yes, she’d post a social media page and remind people to search for Lisa. But first, the mail should have arrived. There was the slim chance Lisa mailed her a letter confessing she’d run off. The notion was doubtful, but not impossible.

  In the hallway, she unlocked the door. On the street, a postal truck crawled up the block of New England style houses with sprawling porches, rectangular ranches, and modern Cape Cod homes. She grabbed the envelopes from the mailbox attached to the beige clapboards, stepped inside, and closed the entryway.

  She sorted through the ads and bills to the last piece, a large white envelope. The sender used a printed label addressed to her. What was this? She ripped open the flap and pulled out…a holy card?

  The picture of Mary Magdalene decorated the front. Someone must have sent a prayer for Lisa? Teagan flipped to the other side and frowned at the words.

  Tu sequens morieris

  Someone wrote to her in…Latin? Strange. The prick of sweat stabbed the back of her neck. She sat on the sofa and scooped up her phone from the coffee table. As she searched online for a translation, she dug into her memory of high school Spanish to help crack the code. Tu was you and morieris had something to do with death and sequens translated to—

  Her breath whooshed out of her. She dropped her cell on the cushion, but the phrase stared up from the screen.

  You die next.

  Chapter 3

  A little after noon, Detective Noah Cassidy drove toward the brick Hawick Falls Police Station next to Itsy Bitsy Pre-school. Across the street at Bud’s Variety Store, cars overflowed the parking lot onto the road. Anyone could guess the day without a glance at the date. Bud held the annual July eighth firework sale in the barn behind his business.

  Noah entered the rear of the hundred-year-old station house. The city’s twenty-five thousand taxpayers had refused to renovate the building at the past three municipal meetings. Heat and body odors from the holding pen greeted him as he passed through to the large squad room. Vacant desks alerted him that the chief had assigned most of his full and part time department of forty-five men to search for the missing teenager. The few remaining uniforms paused to greet Noah. He saw the wariness and the big question in their eyes. How had he handled the second anniversary of his family’s deaths?

  They were scrutinizing him for warning signs of stress or a meltdown. He’d be the first to admit he’d been unable to function when the date rolled around last year. This anniversary, he’d kept it together. Too bad, guys. You’ll have to find your entertainment somewhere else. I’m back from vacation and I’m going to solve my case. You’ll see.

  He acknowledged them and continued onward. The sound of tapping on keyboards and the buzz of voices on phones returned. Paul, the newest patrolman with the baby face and large glasses, spun away from his desk as Noah approached. The officer was young and inexperienced, but eager.

  “Hey, Cassidy. Good to see you.” The man paused and blinked several times as if he felt the awkwardness of the situation.

  “Thanks.” The tight sensation in Noah’s chest grew. “What’s up here? Any news on your bored teenagers feeding the expired meters?” he asked, turning the subject to work and Paul.

  “They’re leaving printed cards on windshields. The message informs drivers they’ve been saved from the tyranny of Prince John’s traffic tickets by the Merry Men who added time to their parking meters. When the chief learned how few fines we’d collected and how many dollars the kids’ actions drained from the traffic school fund, he doubled his ulcer meds.” The patrolman glanced around as though he expected to discover someone listening over his shoulder. “Don’t use the word merry unless you want to pull the night beat.”

  “We’d be in real trouble if it were Christmas. Thanks for the warning.” Noah strode across the scuffed wooden floor to the quieter space of Chief Banks’ office. The compass in the pocket of his blue-black BDU pants pressed against his thigh. He reached up and straightened his collar. The sooner he was back at work, the sooner his days would return to normal.

  He was ready for inspection and his meeting with the chief. Noah’s blond hair was trimmed short, and his clothes were clean and ironed. He needed a case to get his mind off his past family troubles. His job provided him a place to belong, unlike when he was a kid.

  Back then, he’d tried to hide his shame over his father’s drinking. Noah still shuddered over the memory. After his mother left them, dear old Dad insisted on proving he was the good parent. He attended school conferences slurring his words or not showing up at all. At night, he needed help to get himself into his bed, and the next day, he staggered around town trying to find someone who’d sell him more beer. There was a whole list of his father’s offenses.

  Noah had sworn growing up he’d prove he was nothing like his old man. People would respect Noah Cassidy, and he’d help those who’d been wronged by others the way he’d been. Once he’d made that decision, his path to law enforcement was unavoidable.

  Yeah, he’d almost blown it once and regretted the incident. People seemed to have an easier time remembering the bad about you. Noah raised a hand to the door and saw his gray cuff was frayed.

  His wife, June, had insisted on shopping for his clothes even when he protested he’d buy his own. “You always buy the first shirt that fits. A detective should dress to impress.” Her face beamed as she held up the bag with the mall store, Men’s More for Less, printed across the bag.

  “Who am I impressing? The criminals?” he’d asked and given her a kiss.

  His wife’s face faded, and a pain settled in his chest. Since her death two years ago, he couldn’t predict when bits of their past would surface to spark the hurt and regrets. If only he’d been with her the day she’d gone out on the boat. Instead he’d skipped out to do paperwork.

  He forced his misgivings into silence and knocked on the office door.

  “Come in.”

  Noah walked into the eight-by-ten-foot office and crossed to the desk where the sunlight shone from the single window above the chief. A bookcase of law books stood in a corner and diplomas and certificates decorated the beige walls.

  His boss wore a crisply starched, white shirt as though he expected a surprise inspection from his former military years. He kept his head bent over a form beside the computer, probably giving the document his legal eye. When confronted by the press or defense lawyers, he spouted off laws wheeler-dealer prosecutor-style. Chief Banks was a tough, by-the-book leader.

  The hum of the window’s air conditioner filled the silence. A floorboard under Noah’s feet squeaked when he stirred. He’d forgotten to avoid the plank loosened by nervous officers shifting from foot to foot.

  The chief raised his head, and the green eyes in his long face narrowed with a frown while he ran his gaze over Noah. “You missed our morning briefing.”

  “High winds delayed takeoff, sir. I returned as soon as my flight got into the Manchester airport. My drive north took an extra thirty minutes because of the summer traffic on the interstate.”

  The chief stabbed a finger at him. “Next time, book an earlier departure. Are you ready to work today?”

  “Yes, sir.” Noah didn’t bother protesting that he couldn’t have predicted the weather or road conditions. Not that it mattered. The last question was prompted by the chief’s concern over Noah’s mental health.

  His boss sat forward in his chair and snapped, “Right answer. You’re needed here. We’ve another missing girl. The FBI acts as consultants
on both cases now.”

  The chief’s voice held steady, but Noah caught the man’s wince on the word ‘another’.

  “I understand, sir.”

  “We’re putting most of our resources into the search. After the dead ends in the Kara Linn disappearance, I don’t need to remind you the city is clamoring for an arrest and for the girls’ safe return. The media roasts us every day.” He grabbed the paper from under a file and slapped it on the desk in front of Noah. “One of the editors, Vic Taylor, is Kara Linn’s uncle, and he uses his blog and daily column to keep track of the days she’s been gone. The guy’s odd, but he has a knack for pressing the right buttons to set off public reaction.”

  Under the headline ‘And Now There Are Two’, Noah read aloud the first paragraph. “Why do we no longer hear Kara Linn’s name mentioned or details of a search for her? The police prefer to focus on parking meters. Are they more precious than the missing children of our community?”

  Since the chief handled criticism like a sore he constantly picked until it grew worse, Noah chose his words with care. “I don’t think the editor understands the scope of our investigation. The fact we continue working on Kara Linn’s case isn’t as obvious as when we went door to door. Any connection between the two teenagers?”

  “We’ve found none so far.”

  “One missing girl is unusual for Hawick Falls. Two seems too much of a coincidence for them to be runaways.” If they could discover similarities, they might find a single predator.

  “Taylor describes us as heartless and inept.” The chief tossed the front section into the wastebasket. “All the readers’ letters to the editor condemn the police department. I expect pitchforks and torches instead of cameras and lights at the next news conference.”

  “I read up on the last girl’s disappearance during my flight. Has the crime line gotten any action?”

  “We’ve followed three hundred tips. We checked out every one from the weird neighbor who cuts his grass in the middle of the night with a flashlight to the guy who threatened to blow up his mother-in-law’s car. An elderly couple swore they saw Lisa at the bus station, but the girl they ID’d turned out to be a teenager traveling to her grandmother’s.” The chief pulled a sheet out of a file and handed it to Noah. “Here are her basic facts”

  Noah studied the sheet while the boss talked.

  “Lisa Grant disappeared sometime on the night of the fifth or morning of the sixth when she was reported missing. Black and pink hair, light brown eyes, weight one hundred and ten pounds and five foot six. Her guardian for the past six months, Teagan Raynes, reported the girl was last wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt when last seen.”

  Noah tried a different tact. “Do we have an intruder theory?” Was she a new Elizabeth Smart abducted from her bed?

  “No evidence supports forced entry or a struggle. Lisa slept alone on the third floor. No ladder, trees, or trellis near the house or prints on the ground.” The chief passed him a picture of Lisa’s bedroom and her folder.

  Noah noted the windows and door locations. The room size suggested an intruder could get in and out quickly, but going down three flights of stairs with an unwilling teenager was risky even if someone memorized the layout.

  “We’re done canvassing the neighborhood. State Police questioned the eight registered sex offenders in the area. Your partner’s notes are in your file and dropbox, Cassidy.”

  “What do we know about the guardian?”

  “Miss Raynes is a local, who moved to Massachusetts, but returned this winter to care for her aunt. She died two weeks later from leukemia. Since her return, Raynes got a job at the elementary school. At this time, she’s not a person of interest. No one else lives in the home.”

  “Any chance the girl’s a runaway?”

  “Everyone swears Lisa never mentioned taking off, though she had dreams of working in Boston or New York City. She had little cash and no credit cards. Miss Raynes had confiscated Lisa’s cell phone, but it was no longer in her bureau where Miss Raynes put it. The cell, Lisa’s wallet, and house key didn’t surface in the search. We developed the theory Lisa lifted her phone before she vanished. Miss Raynes reported Lisa carried her key in her wallet wherever she went. The judge issued a warrant for the phone records yesterday, and I’ve a man working on the call history.”

  Noah scanned the first page of his partner, Denny Hines’, notes. “No useful statements from other foster children in her previous homes.”

  “Not a damn thing. Lisa’s boyfriend, Travis Bodell, says he knows nothing. He shows up each morning for an update. He flips between a civil, mature discussion to an out-of-control rant that we need to work harder and find Lisa sooner. We can’t predict which Travis will show up.”

  “Strange behavior. Counseling?”

  “His guidance counselor described him as a teen with poor self-image, who has weak social skills but isn’t violent.”

  “He sounds like every high school kid to me.”

  “Travis admitted he argued with Lisa on her lunch break the last day she was seen. He maintains he hasn’t glimpsed or heard from her since the fight, but until he’s ruled out, he’s a person of interest.”

  “Lisa Grant disappeared without a clue.”

  “The girl vanished faster than a bullet from a Bushmaster rifle. You and Hines focus on Grant. I’ve got another team searching for the Linn girl. Continue pressuring Travis. He lives with his uncle, Seth Bodell. He’s threatened to lawyer-up the kid if we question Travis again and turns deaf when we explain his nephew wants to talk to us. Uncle’s earned a rep as unreasonable. Seth went to All Saints on a sports scholarship and was a star for a couple of years until he suffered two broken legs. He used to ump for a few teams in Hawick, until he got into too many arguments.

  “So the uncle’s a fun guy. His nephew may have inherited his temper. What’s the story on friends who’d hide Lisa if she ran?” The chance of finding her safe was better if she’d taken off on her own.

  “She’s been in nine foster homes since she was two, and she ages out of the system on her birthday next month. Lisa left a trail of disruptive behavior in her past placements.”

  “You mean no one put a candle in the window for her.”

  “Sophia and Teagan Raynes were the girl’s last stop.”

  “A girl with poor impulse control and judgment would be easy prey for the wrong person, and not a happy ending.”

  “I requested a clearer picture of Grant.” The chief seized another section of the Hawick Falls Citizen from under a stack of folders and dropped it on top of the desk.

  The article on the plane had omitted Lisa’s image. Noah stared at the fuzzy photo of a slim teen. A pixie-sized woman with long hair reaching past her shoulders stood beside Lisa. Raynes looked young for a guardian. Raynes. The name and face were familiar. Curious, he brought the picture closer.

  “When I asked if you’re ready to work, Cassidy…well, your family will always be missed.”

  The chief’s admission left Noah speechless. His boss always lectured the men, “When it’s personal, keep it at home.”

  Had the chief expressed sympathy when June and Kimmy died? His wife had supported his every decision. Many labeled her traditional, but June was proud to be Mrs. Noah Cassidy from the moment they married. His daughter had been the sunshine in his life with her smiles and giggles.

  Noah searched his memory and recalled days buried in a haze after their deaths. The chief’s calls and visits had seemed focused on when Noah would return to work. Was his boss acting like a normal human being now?

  “Hines is at All Saints High School interviewing Lisa’s teachers.” The chief chucked the rest of the paper into his circular file by his desk. “I need you to go to Miss Raynes’ house before you join him. Her address is listed in the report. Ten minutes ago, she called in that she’d received a death threat. She sounded flustered and upset. I sent the patrol over on a welfare check, and they’ve reported she’s safe and
secure. You will need to document today’s evidence.”

  Noah checked Miss Raynes’ residence. Eighty-six High Street was located in the village section of Hawick Falls and three blocks from the small, popular neighborhood grocery. People joked, if you’re lonely drop into Muffy Mart and you’ll meet someone you know.

  “I planned to head to High Street,” the chief said, “but we had a collision on Purgatory Road involving an oil truck. I’m going to the accident to inform the EPA that none of the fuel leaked into the ground. These rules tie up our manpower.” The chief tapped his fingers and frowned. “Fish and Game will drag the Bearclaw River, and the staties and volunteers will comb the footpaths in the southeast parts of the city today. We’ve managed for a Guard helicopter to fly over the rougher terrain.”

  One hundred twenty-two miles of trails stretched through the Appalachian White

  Mountains. Unexpected weather often stranded experienced hikers. The teen’s chances of survival were reduced if she’d chosen to walk her way through the nearby mountains unprepared. He turned to leave.

  “Oh, Noah, one more thing. Father Matt Hastings, a family friend, will be with Miss

  Raynes, too.”

  Noah swung around to the chief. “Mercy, a priest is coming?”

  The chief narrowed his eyes at him, but Noah didn’t bother to apologize for the hostility in his voice. He’d never kept it a secret from his boss how his father, once an altar boy, had been messed up by his parish priest’s unwanted attentions. Noah was an adult before he had understood the impact of the abuse on his father.

  “People turn to their church when they’re in crisis, Cassidy. Lisa works part-time in the church’s office, and I expect you to keep your personal feelings to yourself.”

  He knew that name, Father Hastings. “Isn’t he the priest who was rejected for a job as a bishop because of an affair?” Seemed like the guy had his own crisis to keep him busy.