Thrilled to Death v5

by L. J. Sellers

  She didn’t budge. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

  “Why are you worried about the baby?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Will you check your office for Danette’s phone?”

  “Sure.” Callahan pivoted and strode back through the door.

  Jackson followed closely so she couldn’t shut him out. Once inside, Callahan gave a cursory look around the small plush office. “It’s not here.”

  The room held two pieces of padded furniture where a patient might get comfortable. He checked the chair and the couch, running his hands along the seams to see if the phone had slipped out of sight. No luck.

  “Satisfied?”

  He scanned the floor and turned to Callahan, who stood with arms folded across her chest. “If Danette contacts you for any reason, please call me.” Jackson handed her a business card. “I don’t want to waste the department’s time and resources looking for someone who isn’t missing or doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Would Danette abandon her baby?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Thanks for your time.”

  Jackson gave another glance around the office but didn’t see a young woman’s coat or purse. He called Kera as he took the stairs down.

  She was slow to answer. “What did you find out?”

  “Danette had a session with the doctor, but she didn’t leave her cell phone. Her car isn’t in the parking lot, so I assume she drove away. Sorry, that’s all I know so far.” Jackson stopped in front of the insurance office. “What was Danette wearing when she dropped off Micah?”

  “Faded blue jeans, a short-sleeve pink sweater, and a navy blue zip-front sweatshirt with a hood. Why are you asking? Should I be worried?”

  “I’m just gathering information that may be useful. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes and no. If she would only call. Even if she’s not coming back. I just need to know.”

  “Try not to focus on it.” Jackson was trying to be more empathetic. The females in his life had requested it. “I’ll call the department and issue an attempt-to-locate. If we have every officer in town looking for her car or someone matching her description, we should find her soon.”

  “Thanks, Jackson. Call me if you learn anything at all.”

  When they first got together, Kera had called him Wade, even though no one else did. He missed that. Still standing in the building’s lobby, Jackson called the department and gave the desk officer the information.

  “Is this a new missing persons case?”

  “Not officially yet. She’s a friend of the family.”

  “How old is Danette?”

  “Twenty.”

  The desk officer hesitated. “Unless you have reason to believe she’s in danger, the attempt-to-locate isn’t exactly protocol for someone that age.”

  “Humor me, please. My gut feeling is that this might be serious.” Jackson’s intestines were relatively quiet at the moment, but it wouldn’t last. He hung up and walked into the insurance office. A thirty-something woman at the front desk looked up. “Welcome to Barnell’s Insurance. How can I help meet your insurance needs today?”

  Jackson wondered how many times a day the poor woman had to say that. He introduced himself. “I’m looking for a young woman who was in the building this morning. She’s five-eight, dark haired, brown skinned, and wearing jeans and a dark blue zip-up sweatshirt. Have you seen her?”

  The receptionist shook her head. “Not this morning. I’ve been busy, so I haven’t spent much time looking into the lobby.”

  “Had you seen her before today?”

  “I saw her last week. She was headed upstairs.” The woman flushed a little, looking sheepish. “I try not to pay attention to the psychiatrist’s patients out of respect for their privacy.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about this woman or her behavior?”

  She thought for a moment. “I remember thinking she wasn’t typical of Dr. Callahan’s patients. Most of them are middle-aged, well off, and white. I think that’s why I noticed this young woman. Or maybe it was the creepy guy with her.”

  Jackson felt a little shimmer up his spine. “Describe him.”

  “Tall, six foot or more, dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, dark clothes, and a little patch of facial hair.” She pointed to the middle of her chin.

  “He went with her upstairs?”

  “No. He came into the lobby, then went back outside.”

  Jackson handed her a card. “If you think of anything, let me know.”

  In the parking lot, Jackson glanced around. A dark green Scion and a maroon minivan were still in the far corner—probably employees—and a white midsize truck had pulled in while he was in the building. Still no blue Toyota. Jackson climbed into his Impala and sat for a moment, thinking. Where would I go if I were twenty and had a chance to escape my responsibilities? Even for a few hours?

  The mall, of course. Valley River Center, with its clothing shops, jewelry stores, and seven-plex movie theater. Jackson called information and chose to be connected to the mall’s business center. From there, he asked for the security department, described Danette, and asked them to watch for her.

  “Is she dangerous?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll get word to the uniforms out there.”

  Jackson made a similar call to the Gateway mall in Springfield, Eugene’s adjoining sister city, then headed back to Danette’s apartment. Driving out River Road, the April sun heated up the car, so he rolled down the window. The fresh air felt great. Eugene in the springtime was a glorious place. The sky was often brilliant blue, the green canopy was back on the trees, and purple Azaleas bloomed everywhere. He hoped the weather would hold until Saturday and that Saturday would still be a day off when it rolled around. Maybe he and Kera and Katie would hike up Spencer Butte and have a picnic.

  He thought about calling Kera, but he had nothing new to report. He didn’t want to hear the worry and disappointment in her voice. It was way too soon in their relationship to disappoint her. That would come in time. Right now, he wanted to be her knight-in-shining-armor, to come to her rescue again. Just as he had when the crazy lady had poisoned Kera because she worked at Planned Parenthood. They’d met during that bizarre case last fall.

  As he pulled into Danette’s cul-de-sac, Jackson had the sinking feeling this situation would not turn out well. He checked his watch: 3:05. Danette had been missing for five hours. The idea that she was hanging out at the mall didn’t hold together unless the young woman’s mental health problems were more complicated than Kera realized.

  The skinny neighbor who had watched him earlier came out and pretended to search for something in her car. Jackson decided to approach her before she called the police. Her little girl came running out and the woman sent her back inside with a look.

  Jackson introduced himself. “The young woman who lives across from you, Danette Blake, is a friend of the family and she’s been missing for five hours. Have you seen her?”

  “Not since early this morning. What do you mean by missing?”

  “She didn’t show up when she was supposed to.”

  “She could be with her boyfriend.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I think I heard her call him Chad. I don’t know his last name.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “He’s tall and has dark hair. He looks Indian.”

  “What kind of car does he drive?”

  “I’ve never seen him in a car. I think he rides a bike.” She made a face. “He probably lost his license.”

  “Do you know where I might find him?”

  “I don’t know anything about him. I barely know Danette. She just moved here a month ago.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jackson headed across the asphalt. He used a credit card to open the cheap lock and again shook his head at people’s failure to protect t
hemselves with decent locks.

  The scent of baby powder, wet diapers, and mashed bananas permeated the air and triggered a series of flashbacks. Katie as a baby in her little swing, bouncing to the music. Katie throwing mashed carrots at his face and laughing with delight. Jackson smiled. His daughter had grown up to be a lovely young woman of fourteen, who had come to share his passion for restoring and modifying vehicles. They were currently building a three-wheeled motorcycle together and were almost finished. He was a lucky man.

  Jackson tucked away his memories and looked around. The place was messy with toys and clothes scattered around, but it was clean under the surface. Most important, there was no sign of upheaval or struggle, nothing to indicate Danette had left against her will. He headed for her bathroom to see if her stuff was still there. A woman might leave town with just the clothes on her back, but she wouldn’t willingly leave behind her make-up and moisturizer.

  The countertop was almost bare, and Jackson couldn’t find any make-up in the drawers. He looked in the shower. Shampoo, conditioner, and razor were still in the white metal basket. Inconclusive, he decided. It was possible Danette simply didn’t wear cosmetics. He headed into her bedroom and opened a small closet. It held plenty of clothing, much of it in bright shades of red, orange, and pink. The dresser was also full. If Danette had gone on the run, she had packed lightly.

  A search of her living room revealed little. She had course catalogues for Lane Community College and the University of Oregon, magazines about baby care, a makeshift bookshelf full of sci-fi paperbacks, and a few unopened bills that had been forwarded to the new address. Danette hadn’t lived here long enough to accumulate any real clutter. Jackson tried, and failed, to find an address book with contact information. He headed into the kitchen and spotted an open laptop on the table. The temptation to turn it on and snoop through her e-mails was overwhelming.

  Yet he refrained. Danette had not even been gone long enough to justify filing a missing persons report. He was only here because of Kera. If anyone else had asked the department to investigate this situation, they would have gotten a quick word of sympathy and a suggestion to come back later if she was still missing. He had no business violating Danette’s personal space. Jackson abruptly left the house, locking it from the inside and pulling the door closed.

  “I’ve done every thing I can for now.” Jackson stood in Kera’s big bright living room, feeling guilty. She looked so troubled. “Patrol units are on the lookout for Danette. Security guards at both malls are looking for her. I checked her apartment and I talked to her shrink. I’m sorry.” He pulled Kera into his arms and held her for a moment. Micah was sleeping in his playpen.

  “What now?” Kera pressed her lips together and fought back tears.

  “In the morning, you go into the department and file a missing persons report.”

  “Why wait?”

  “Unofficially, adults aren’t considered missing until they’ve been gone at least twenty-four hours.”

  Kera looked alarmed. “So much could happen between now and then. What if Danette’s been kidnapped or assaulted?”

  “This may not be reassuring, but I’ve already done more than anyone else will do. Except put her into the national database.”

  Kera tried to smile. “Thanks, Jackson. I’m glad to know you.”

  “I have to get into the department and file some paperwork on another case. Is there someone you can call to keep you company?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve got Micah to keep me occupied.”

  Jackson kissed her and left while she was still upbeat. He feared Kera still had a long way to go in dealing with this situation. Danette could turn out to be one of those never-ending cases in which a young woman simply vanishes and her family is left to wonder: Did she run away? Is she dead and buried somewhere? The fact that Danette’s car was gone made Jackson lean toward runaway.

  Kera had the strength to survive this though; she’d been tested many times. Jackson had to unclench his fists to grab the wheel. Some people’s lives seemed so blessed, while others took hit after hit. He knew God was out there somewhere, but he didn’t seem all that involved in personal lives. Jackson accepted that. He’d taken his share of hits too.

  Chapter 3

  D.J. wished he’d remembered to put his CD collection back in the van. It was a long drive out to his client’s house. He’d just passed through Veneta and still had five miles to go. He thought the girl might enjoy some music too. She had seemed terrorized when he’d grabbed her this morning. Even with the chloroform, she had managed to nail him in the ribs with an elbow before she went out. He hadn’t expected it. This was only his second pickup of a live person, and he thought it would be easy. He’d snatched a few pets for people in the middle of a nasty divorce, and once he’d picked up the corpse of an old man who’d died while banging his male lover and moved the geezer to save the family embarrassment. His one live-person snatch had been a high-on-heroin, fifteen-year-old girl whom he’d taken home to her parents. This was a new experience, and in his opinion, a pretty fucked-up situation.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, which was aimed down at the floor in the back of the van. The girl was almost completely conscious now and looked terrified. He was surprised. He’d expected the chloroform to last longer.

  He reached for his radio and found a country/rock station. D.J. sang along for a while, feeling pleased with himself for his morning’s work. Even with the long drive out and back, per hour it was a sweet deal. Since he’d handled it so well, maybe his client would give him more contracts like it. It was so much better than crawling under houses to fetch dead animals.

  He passed the five-mile marker and watched for the private driveway on the left. He’d only been here once before and the road was easy to miss. He slowed, turned between the two poplar trees, and stopped in front of the plain black gate with the camera mounted high in the center. After a moment, the gate opened and he entered the property.

  Danette forced herself to breathe through her nose in long counts of ten. The bandanna not only made it hard to take in air, it cut into the corners of her mouth and made her eyes water, wetting the cloth over her eyes. Her head ached from the after-effect of whatever he’d used to knock her out.

  She lay on her side, her hands bound in front by handcuffs and her ankles bound by thin nylon rope. She pulled her knees up next to her chin and tried to work the knots on her ankles. The handcuffs gave her just enough flex to maneuver. If he had used rope on her wrists instead…

  Still, she made little progress and her fingers soon ached. Danette rested for a moment and tried not to think about what was waiting for her.

  The steady hum of tires told her they were traveling along a well-maintained road. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, so it was impossible to guess how long she’d been in the van. It felt like hours. What do they want with me? This wasn’t about money, because she and her mother didn’t have any, which meant it had to be about sex. Oh, dear God. Danette prayed she wouldn’t be raped.

  Why me? Is God punishing me for not loving my baby? For wanting to give Micah away?

  The hum of the tires changed pitch, and she realized the van was slowing. Her heart pounded as she frantically pulled at the nylon around her ankles, hindered by her inability to see what she was doing. She felt the van make a sharp left, then stop. What was next? Was she strong enough to take it? Her fingers found a loop and something gave. She pulled on the piece of rope that had a bit of slack. The van rolled forward again.

  Instinctively, D.J. glanced back at the girl. Everything was as it should be. She was still bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Was she breathing? Shit. He felt a stir of adrenaline as he stopped the van and stared at the girl’s chest. She was breathing. He was just being paranoid. He let off the brake and rolled forward. It would all turn out okay. He would carry her into the house and his client would hand him a stack of cash. Then he would go back to his little Dirty
Jobs business, which had earned him the nickname D.J., a much more manly name than what his mother had called him. The three thousand would get him caught up on the trailer park rent and let him live a little on the wild side for a month or so. It was a no-risk deal he’d been promised.

  After a quarter mile, the trees opened into a clearing and the big custom home came into view. Floor-to-ceiling windows in the foyer caught the mid-morning sun. He pulled up in front of the attached three-car garage and waited. In a moment, the overhead door closest to the house opened and he pulled in. Was he supposed to wait or would his client come into the garage? This was new to him.

  He decided the situation called for confidence. He climbed out of the van, scooted around to the side door, and opened it. The girl was on her knees, waiting. She lunged forward, head butting him in the chest. The blow knocked him back against the silver Mercedes. The girl fell forward and ended up straddling the opening, with her face against the concrete floor and her bound feet sticking up into the van.

  She hadn’t thought that through very well. He squatted, lifted her up on his shoulder, and carried her toward the house.

  Chapter 4

  Kera couldn’t stop thinking about Danette. As she paced the house, she could feel her back muscles tense and her pulse accelerate. She knew this level of anxiety was unhealthy and unproductive, so she forced herself to sit down and take deep breaths. Little Micah needed her to be calm and happy. He was sleeping now, but when he woke, he would pick up on her mood.

  Kera moved to her computer in the office at the back of the house. She glanced at her wonderful view and remembered to thank the universe for being good to her. At least financially anyway. She lived in a wonderful home and rarely worried about money. On a global scale she was very fortunate. Before her son had been born, she’d spent a few years in Uganda working in a Red Cross medical center. The experience had given her a worldview she never let herself forget.