by Rick Mofina
“Amber told you about the letter under patient confidentiality. You said it was an ethical call.”
“But I could’ve encouraged her to report his violation. If I’d done that, he might’ve been arrested and jailed and none of this would’ve happened.”
“He would’ve gotten out in a heartbeat. He would’ve been mad as hell and he would’ve looked for her.”
Claire massaged her temple as a new realization dawned on her.
“My God, the burglary! Maybe that was Eric searching for Amber’s address. What if it was disguised to look like a break-in, just like that detective suspected?”
“Claire, stop this.”
“When we checked my computer, it appeared someone had tried to access it. Why didn’t I report that letter?”
Julie took hold of Claire’s shoulders.
“This doesn’t help,” Julie said. “Stop punishing yourself. You did everything right. Speculating is futile. Until we know the facts, we don’t know anything. We have to let the police do their job, okay?”
Julie was right, but it didn’t assuage Claire’s guilt.
“Think positive.” Julie smiled. “You reached Robert last night. He’s on his way back to L.A. Maybe you should stay home today.” Julie glanced out the window to the backyard. “Work off your worry in your garden. It’s beautiful. I love those new planter boxes.” Julie looked out the window to the backyard but Claire didn’t.
She looked at Julie. Something was up.
“What is it, Julie?”
“What do you mean?”
“I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me. Did you ever find out anything more about Robert and Cynthia’s life in Canada?”
Julie searched Claire’s eyes for a long moment as if looking for the right words.
“Nothing yet,” Julie said. “We’re still working on it with the subcontractor in Canada. We’re still checking things out.”
“What sorts of things?”
“You’re dealing with a lot right now, Claire, and we’re still in the early stages of confirming Robert’s history in Canada.”
“What sorts of things, Julie. Tell me.”
“Records, that kind of stuff.”
“What about the records?”
“There might be some confusion on whether we are looking at the right Robert Bowen. It’s going to take a while and we need to confirm things.”
Claire studied her friend’s face for any deception before Julie said, “Listen, this thing happens all the time in my line of work. This is not the time for you to worry about this. Let me confirm things, okay?”
Claire let out a long slow breath. “Okay. I’m going into the office.”
“But you had Alice cancel all of your appointments for today.”
“There’s work to do. The insurance isn’t settled and I want to re-read Amber’s file. I’d feel better going in and waiting for news there.”
“All right.” Julie glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a few things to take care of. We’ll get together later today, get a pizza or something, and I’ll wait here with you until Robert gets home tonight.”
“Okay.”
After Julie collected her things, Claire walked her to the door.
“Be sure to call me if you hear anything,” Julie said.
As Claire watched Julie drive away she was left with the feeling that Julie was holding something back from her.
* * *
Driving through San Marino, Claire couldn’t escape her fear and guilt. At times she felt as if she were outside her body, watching herself trapped in a nightmare.
Before she’d left home for her office, she’d called her doctor to reschedule today’s appointment. It was this afternoon, but she couldn’t go through with it. Not today.
Dr. LaRoy surprised her when he got on the line.
“Is everything all right, Claire? We talked about how important it is that we adhere to your cycle with the treatment.”
She steadied herself and explained. With a better understanding of her situation, Dr. LaRoy gave her scheduling options and some advice.
“It’s crucial we not disrupt the regime, flexibility is limited. You’re not pregnant, but your signs are promising. Given what you’re experiencing, it’s important that you control your stress. I’ll see you at our next appointment. My thoughts are with you and your patient. Call me anytime.”
Amber’s safety consumed Claire until her unease about her marriage flashed in the back of her mind.
Did Julie learn something more about Robert? Is that why she’d hesitated when I raised the question?
The scream of a siren from a passing ambulance pulled Claire back to her anguish over Amber. A few minutes later she was in her office where Alice flew to her, giving her a tearful hug.
“It’s been on the news. Is there any word on Amber?”
“Nothing.”
They sat in the empty reception area, staring at the aquarium.
“How are you doing?” Alice asked.
“Hanging in there.”
“After you called, all I could do was pray for Amber to be safe.”
“Me, too.”
“It must’ve been so awful for you to be the one to-I mean after you told me how you went to her house and then called police. I’m just so sorry and so scared.”
“I know. Me, too.” Claire exhaled slowly and stood. “I came in to take care of some things.”
“Well, I’ve got the invoices, the insurance file and fresh coffee.”
Alice brought files and coffee into Claire’s office, then left her alone to work. In the quiet, Claire battled her aching need for police to tell her that they’d located Amber and that she was safe.
Please find her.
Over the next few hours, she took care of office matters. Then she revisited her notes on Amber. It was painful, but other than her failure to report Eric’s letter, Claire found nothing she would’ve or could’ve done differently.
Setting the file aside, she retrieved business cards and started making calls to every investigator she knew with knowledge on the case. San Marino police officer Deena Freeman, who’d first arrested Eric, had no new information. Neither did Larry Cobb, the sad-faced detective who was investigating the burglary. He directed Claire to the Alhambra detectives she’d already talked to, Norm Seeton and Ed Belinski. They were leading on Amber’s disappearance.
She reached Belinski, who was guarded, clearly a professional trait.
“Nothing much I can tell you since we talked yesterday, Dr. Bowen,” Belinski said. “We’re working on a few leads with other detectives. We’re hopeful for a break soon.” Before hanging up, he made a request that suggested what she’d suspected: Belinski knew more than he could reveal. “Please be sure we have all of your contact information, in case we, or other law enforcement, need to interview you further.”
After that, there was little more Claire could do at her office.
As she prepared to leave, Robert texted her. He was set to depart from Detroit and estimated that with good weather he’d be home that night.
His last text was a question.
Did they find your patient?
No. I’m praying for her.
When Claire returned home she’d received a text from Julie telling her that she was running late.
Will be there as soon as I can.
Claire’s neck and shoulder muscles had turned to granite. She took a hot shower, then made herself a tomato, lettuce and cheese sandwich. She ate half while skipping through TV channels, searching for any reports on Amber.
It was after sunset when Julie arrived.
“I have some news,” she said. “A friend of mine at the D.A.’s office said there are rumors flying in justice circles that investigators are comparing Amber’s case with others.”
“What cases? What about Amber? Did they find her?”
“I have nothing on that,” Julie said.
“Well, why don’t the
detectives tell me? Why isn’t this on the news?”
Julie shook her head.
“My friend didn’t have any details. Claire, at this point everything is speculation. It’s routine for them to compare a new case with old ones. Until they tell us, we really don’t know what’s going on.”
Claire took a moment to absorb the news on the rumor, accepting how it fit with Detective Belinski being so tight-lipped while indicating that police would want to talk to her further.
“And nothing at all about Amber?”
Julie shook her head.
“I’m sorry.”
As Claire blinked back tears, she took a long, deep breath.
“Stay positive and pray, right?” Claire said, then offered Julie some wine. As she uncorked a bottle of California red, she looked out to her garden and planter boxes, beautifully illuminated in the evening by the solar-powered path and deck lights.
The cork squeaked loudly.
“Tell me what more you know about Robert, Julie.”
“We’re still working on it.”
“You’ve been saying that for a while. I know you’re being protective, but I deserve to know where you’re at with this. Especially with him coming home.”
She set a glass of red down in front of Julie.
“Claire, you’ve got so much else to deal with right now.”
“Tell me, Julie.”
Julie swallowed some wine, then nodded.
“We searched records of every Canadian province and territory and found that Robert may have lived in Alberta, Canada.”
“Alberta? Is that where Cynthia’s living now? Is that where they got divorced?”
Julie didn’t answer. Claire looked at her.
“Well?”
“That’s about all we have, we’re working on it,” Julie said.
At that moment, headlights raked through the kitchen from the breezeway to the driveway.
“Robert’s home,” Claire said.
He entered carrying his bag, which he dropped to embrace Claire.
“I wish I could’ve gotten home sooner, but they added another flight,” he said, nodding to Julie. “Hello, Julie.” Then he asked Claire, “Anything?”
“Nothing,” Claire said.
“Not a word?”
“Just rumors. They won’t tell me anything,” Claire said, turning to Julie who was collecting her bag. “Are you leaving, already?”
“I should be going.”
“Don’t leave on my account,” Robert said.
“I should be going.”
“I’ll see you out,” Claire said.
She walked with Julie outside to the driveway.
“That seemed sudden,” Claire said. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Julie got behind the wheel of her car and started it. “I’m sorry, Claire, we’ve both got a lot going on.”
“Is there something more you wanted to tell me?”
Julie shook her head.
“We’ll say a prayer for Amber,” Julie said. “I’ll let you know if I hear any news and you promise me you’ll do the same.”
Julie took a long look at Claire’s house. Lights went on in different rooms as Robert moved through it.
“Promise me, Claire.”
“I promise.” Claire lowered herself and hugged Julie, thanking her again.
As Julie Glidden drove off through Claire’s San Marino neighborhood she called a number on her cell phone.
“Thorsen,” the man answered.
“Milt, Julie in California. Do you have anything more on Bowen for me?”
“A little-his real name is Leon Richard Elliott.”
Julie’s stomach tightened.
48
Alhambra and Downey, California
Tanner and Zurn left Camarillo where the death doll had been placed and drove to Alhambra for an emergency briefing with detectives there.
It started in the afternoon and lasted into the early evening.
Ed Belinski had led the meeting. He and his partner, Norm Seeton, were running the investigation into Amber Pratt’s disappearance. While Tanner was hopeful about the break, he was careful to protect the integrity of his case when Belinski asked him for an update summary.
“Key fact evidence found at our scene in Camarillo is linked directly to Amber Pratt and our five cold cases,” Tanner said.
“And what’s the evidence?” Belinski asked.
“That’s holdback, Ed.”
Belinski snapped his gum.
“We’re all trying to catch the same guy, Joe.”
“You know how it goes, Ed.”
“I know you’re friendly with the press.”
“We had a strategy and it worked. We got a killer to go public.”
Belinski stared at Tanner for one cool moment.
“If that’s how you want to play it,” Belinski said. “Let’s get to work.”
Belinski said Amber’s psychologist, Claire Bowen, had reported her missing after she’d failed to make an appointment or respond to calls. Alhambra police had not yet detected any activity on Amber’s cell phone, bank, credit cards or personal email account.
“She’s made no contact with relatives, friends or her employer,” he said, adding that her car had not been moved. The residential alarm system had been defeated and there was a lot of blood in her bedroom. They were still processing the property.
“Looks like foul play and Eric Larch is a good place to start,” Belinski said.
After reviewing the history of the case to date, the group agreed all the signs pointed to Larch. Belinski then summarized the canvass and tip reports. Finally, before wrapping up, he agreed to Tanner’s request for Alhambra to join the task force.
* * *
It was nearly midnight when Tanner got home.
He’d stopped off at his office first to collect files.
As soon as he got to the kitchen, his cell phone started ringing with a call from his lieutenant.
“We’re getting squeezed by the politicians, Joe. People are scared. How did it go with Alhambra, is Larch our guy?”
“He looks good for it.”
“Get some sleep. The captain’s talking about a news conference tomorrow to blast Larch’s face and that of his missing wife.”
Tanner got a box of cold pizza from the fridge and a beer. Piling his files on top of the pizza box, he settled at his sofa to eat and read. The files were thick with court records, transcripts, complaint histories, statements and reports about Larch. In a short time, Tanner became very familiar with Larch’s life.
Eric Fenlon Larch, aged thirty-six, was born in Daly City, south of San Francisco. His father, Chet, was a trucker who’d abandoned Eric’s mother, Lana, an alcoholic heroin addict, and their sons. Eric’s mother frequently beat Eric and his older brother before giving them up to be raised by Eric’s aunt and uncle across the bay in Oakland.
Eric had wanted to be a police officer. But he had a drug problem and anger issues which he seemed to overcome with the help of his aunt’s church group. He studied electronics in community college and worked at installing industrial and residential security systems, finding work in the L.A. area.
But his drug problem returned and he started drinking heavily.
Women Larch had known complained that he had a violent temper and had abused them. Several made 9-1-1 calls, a few pressed charges, which were usually withdrawn because he was skilled at talking the women out of pursuing them. Larch cleaned up, got counseling. Eventually he married Amber and moved to Long Beach. After he’d abused her, she sought a divorce, underwent therapy and started a new life.
But Larch couldn’t let her go.
So here we are, Tanner thought, before turning to statements from Amber’s psychologist, Claire Bowen. Again, he’d read how she’d pepper-sprayed Larch in the parking lot of her office when he’d attacked both women.
Tanner liked how Bowen had gone to war with this guy.
Bowen knew Amb
er’s state of mind before she’d disappeared and she’d had recent dealings with Larch’s rage.
We need to talk to her tomorrow.
Tanner finished the last of his beer and dragged himself to bed. As he passed Sam’s empty room, he felt a sudden longing to hold her. It seemed like a lifetime ago they were at the dentist’s office.
He reached down for one of her stuffed toys, a lion, and touched it to his cheek.
49
San Marino, California
The next morning, Claire’s eyes flicked open from a troubled sleep to see Robert standing over her at the foot of their bed.
She struggled to focus on him in the diffused light, motionless in his sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“Robert? Is there news on Amber?”
“No, nothing, I’m sorry.”
“What’re you doing standing there like that? Is everything okay?”
“It’s the time change, I couldn’t sleep. How about you?”
“I had to take a pill.” Claire sat up, ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Robert sat on the bed near her.
“When I was watching you, I kept thinking how beautiful you are when you’re sleeping.”
She looked at him.
“Please don’t,” she said. “This isn’t the time. I need to get to the office.”
“I’m sorry, listen, I have an idea. Before you go to the office, let me take you for breakfast at the old diner, like we used to. It’ll help take your mind off this for a bit.”
She cupped her hands over her face. She was tired.
“I know this is a bad time, Claire,” he continued. “But when I was away I got to thinking about everything, about being a father, selling the cabin, us, our future, everything. God, I miss you.”
She took several moments to consider his offer.
“All right. Let me get ready.”
Before they left their house, Claire went online to check for emails from detectives and news reports on Amber. In the living room she switched on the TV and surfed channels for any local reports. She flipped through Robert’s newspapers in the kitchen.