Sara grinned, but directed her attention to him. “Hi, Detective Gerard.”
“Hi Sara,” Detective Kensington said. “It’s nice to see you looking so well.”
Sara did not acknowledge her greeting.
“Good to see you, Sara,” Zach said. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl had actually cleaned herself up this time. A faint aroma of lavender filled the air. At least this Sara smelled clean, instead of the usual stench of urine and sweat. Seconds later, Harwell entered the room.
“Sara, I’d like you to meet our new Lieutenant.” He gestured his hand toward his boss. “Jack Harwell.” They exchanged greetings.
Harwell made his way over to one of the chairs at the table, across from Sara. The detectives joined him. Jessie sat next to the recorder, ready to push the button. Zach sat down at the head of the table.
“As soon as you’re ready, Sara,” Jessie said, “I’ll be recording this session.”
“Why?” She turned toward Zach. “Gerard, I thought I was going to see you alone. I feel uncomfortable with an audience.”
“Sara, my partner and I will be working this interview.”
“But, you told me to come see you anytime I needed help.”
“Yes, I did, Sara, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. When I say me, it means both of us. We’re a team.”
Sara gave a disgusted look.
Harwell intervened. “If you’re concerned about your sister, then you’ll tell my detectives what you know, otherwise, you’re wasting our time.”
“Okay. But why is this being recorded?”
“To be sure we don’t miss anything important,” Jessie said. “We don’t want to walk away from the session wondering whether you said the sky was green, or it was blue.”
“Why? Are you too lazy to take notes?” Sara snapped at her.
Zach stood. “Okay, let’s forget this interview?” They all stood to leave. He winked at Jessie as they headed toward the door. “We have too much work to do to be wasting time on this.”
“No. Wait,” Sara reacted. “I’m sorry . . . I’m just not myself these days. I’m doing this all alone, you know. My parents have disowned me.” She shrugged. “I guess I can’t blame them considering all the trouble I’ve caused. Anyway, I did call my mother to tell her about Amanda . . . that’s my sister’s name, a few days ago, but she hung up on me.” She looked down at her hands for a few seconds. “Is recording these sessions something new, Gerard?” she asked with a frown.
“No, Sara, we’ve been doing this for a long time—you were always too stoned to know the difference.” He eyed her, trying to read her question. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be recorded?”
“Well, no. But I know how you guys operate.” She rolled up her sleeves exposing her veins. “Look for yourselves. I’m clean, and I have been for two months.” Zach examined her arms. They were scarred, but no fresh marks.
“Congratulations, Sara. I hope you’ll continue to stay clean.”
“Look, I know you don’t trust me. And quite frankly, this is the last place I want to be right now, but I’m worried about Amanda, and I’d do anything to save her.” She paused, looking from one detective to another. “So are you going to help me or not?”
“We’ll do our best,” he said. “Go ahead.”
Jessie reclined in a resting position leaning against the back of the chair while her partner began the interview.
“Today is August 28th, 2010 – 4:07 PM. This is Detective Zach Gerard, and present with me is my partner, Detective Jessie Kensington and my supervisor, Lieutenant Jack Harwell. On this date we are interviewing Sara Milligan. My partner and I will be conducting the interview.
“For the record, would you please state your name, address, place of employment, and phone numbers for residence and work.” Detective Gerard said.
“My name is Sara Jane Milligan, and I don’t really have a permanent address, or phone number—I’ve been staying with different friends for the last two months.”
“Are you working, Sara?”
“Is that a trick question? Unless you know of someone who hires former junkies, I doubt I’ll get a job.”
“How will we get in touch with you?” Jessie asked
“You won’t. But, I’ll keep in touch. I want my sister back.”
“Okay, Sara, tell me about your sister. How do you know she’s missing?”
“Because I haven’t heard from her in over a week. We meet at the park every Wednesday, and she didn’t show this week. I figured she probably blew me off, you know, like my parents did years ago, but then the more I thought about it, I realized she wouldn’t do that to me.” Tears brimmed on her lashes. “Then I saw this flyer,” she said, holding the paper up and pointing to the sketch. “It’s her.” She wiped her eyes.
“So what makes you think she’s missing just because she didn’t show up? Couldn’t she have had something else to do instead?”
“No. Not her. Unlike me, she’s as reliable as the day is long.”
“Sara, you just told us you’re unreliable,” Jessie chimed in. “So, why should we believe you today?”
“Because I’m telling you. She’s missing,” she said, raising her voice.
“Okay, Sara, calm down,” Zach said. “We just need to be sure your information is factual before we begin an all-out investigation.”
“You’re giving me a hard time because of my priors. I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” she said in a rush of words. “With all the time you’re wasting, my sister could be dead by now.”
Harwell intervened. “Sara.” She looked his way. “We have to do this. I know you’re upset, so just give us what we need to begin our investigation.”
“My sister was the only one who cared enough to stick by me, and I owe her a lot. She’s been giving me money for food.”
“Are you out of money? Is that why you came here today?” Harwell asked.
Sara gave him a dirty look. “No, damn it!” Her fist bounced off the table. “I came here because I want you to find my sister.”
“Have you been to your sister’s house recently?”
“No. The big man won’t allow me to be around my niece.”
“I assume you’re referring to Patrick Sawyer,” Harwell said. “And, where is her husband?”
“Yeah, I’m referring to that douche bag. Beats me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with her disappearance. I wanted to go over to the house and snoop around, but I couldn’t get anyone to give me a ride and I didn’t have the money for a cab.”
“Okay, then give us her address, and we’ll check it out.”
“They live on W 87th Street, Upper West Side with all the muckety mucks.”
“What information do you have about Mr. Sawyer?” Harwell asked with interest. “And, what makes you think he had anything to do with this?”
“Because he’s an asshole. He’s been smacking her around for a long time. I don’t know why she’s put up with it for this long, but they have a kid, you know.”
“Have you tried to reach your brother-in-law to find out?” Zach asked.
“I just told you, he won’t allow me in the house, so what makes you think he’ll talk to me?” Her foot tapped the floor, like she was keeping in time with music.
“Would you be willing to give us a DNA sample?” Jessie asked.
“Why?”
“Because it would help us with our investigation to match things up in case we find your sister.”
“DNA is just for relatives though, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jessie said, “she is your sister, isn’t she?”
“Well, in name only. The Milligans adopted me.”
11
“Lieutenant,” Pauline’s voice echoed through the intercom, “Charles and Joyce Milligan, the parents of Sara Milligan, are here and would like to see you.”
“Did you inform them Kensington and Gerard are in charge of the investigation?”
“I did, Lieutenant,
but they asked to see you. Is that okay?”
Harwell grumbled and shut down his computer. “Yeah, okay, Pauline, show them into my office . . . but call Kensington and Gerard and tell them to get in here.”
“Yes, sir.”
He cleared the papers from the top of his desk, stacking them into a neat pile on the side, stood and adjusted his tie, then crossed the room and opened the door. The wife gave Harwell a half-hearted smile.
“Mr. and Mrs. Milligan. Please come inside,” he gestured with his hand.
The Milligans were a handsome couple. The husband extended his hand in greeting. “I’m Charles Milligan and this is my wife, Joyce.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Harwell exchanged a handshake with the husband and nodded an acknowledgment to the wife. “Please,” he gestured toward the chairs, “have a seat.” He shut the door and made his way around the chairs to sit down behind his desk.
Charles Milligan appeared to be in his sixties, tanned and fit, and neatly dressed in beige slacks and a navy blazer. His wife, Joyce, an attractive petite woman with short blonde, perfectly coiffed hair, wore a black knit pants suit that showcased her shapely figure.
“I’ve asked the investigating detectives to join us. They should be here in a few minutes.” The husband nodded. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m good,” Charles answered.
“I’m fine also.” The wife looked over at her husband, and placed her trembling hands on her lap. The intercom buzzed. “Lieutenant, the detectives are here.”
“Good. Send them in.”
The office door opened and the two detectives entered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Milligan, I’d like you to meet Detectives Jessie Kensington and Zach Gerard,” he said while pulling out two chairs.
Charles began. “As you know, we’re the parents of Sara Milligan and Amanda Sawyer. Amanda is married to Patrick Sawyer.”
“Yes, we’re aware of the relationship, and your son-in-law,” Detective Gerard acknowledged.
Charles Milligan inhaled. “We’d like to thank you for seeing us—”
Joyce Milligan interrupted her husband. “Sara called two nights ago and said Amanda and our granddaughter, were missing. I hung up on her because we’d just spoken to Amanda on Tuesday. Sara is no stranger to law enforcement, as you know, with the frequency of arrests due to drug use . . . and God knows what else. She’s not the most reliable source of information, and that’s the reason I didn’t take her seriously.” The tone of her voice was remorseful, as though apologizing for not having shown up sooner. “I figured this was another stunt . . . you know, for attention.”
“Of course, we are well aware of Sara’s history. But I think you might be surprised at the progress she’s made over the last few months,” Zach said with pride, as if he himself was responsible for Sara’s turnaround. “So what brings you down here today?”
Joyce flew past Zach’s question and asked about Sara. “You mean she wasn’t as high as a kite?”
“She didn’t appear to be.”
“Sara couldn’t have done that by herself,” Joyce exclaimed.
“According to Sara,” Zach said, “she gave Amanda the credit for her recovery.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “That’s just like our Amanda. Never expects anything in return for helping someone. She has so much humility and compassion.”
Zach’s stomach clenched. Mrs. Milligan’s attitude toward Sara reminded him of his own father’s reaction to him—perfection or be damned.
She pulled a tissue from her handbag and blew her nose. “If I hadn’t been so caught up in venting my own anger at Sara, I would have realized she was speaking in full sentences.” Charles patted her hand. She turned to him, blinking back the tears from her eyes, then turned her gaze toward the detectives. “That was before I slammed the phone in her ear,” she confessed. Her tears fell more rapidly now. She blotted her eyes with the tissue she held, inhaled deeply and continued after a brief pause. “Afterward, I started to feel guilty and wondered if maybe she was telling the truth.” Her remorse had a redeeming effect on Zach.
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Mrs. Milligan,” Jessie offered. “It’s tough love, and you did the right thing.”
“Perhaps, but it never felt like it was the right thing. After her call, Charles and I discussed it and decided to take a ride over to Amanda’s house first thing this morning—we have a key for emergencies.”
Zach’s pulse quickened with hope this meeting would be some real help with the investigation.
“When no one answered the door,” she continued, “we peeked through the windows and couldn’t believe the state of things. I wanted to leave and call you right away, but Charles wanted to check inside the house first. We’d never have forgiven ourselves if we later found out Amanda and Gabi were inside struggling to stay alive.”
Zach’s eyes strayed over to Jessie whose facial expression matched the tightness in his chest. If this was in fact a crime scene, the parents had just compromised the evidence. Of course, the disappearance was speculation at this point. Nevertheless, if Jane Doe and Amanda Sawyer were one and the same, this could be an important break in their case. An image of the dents in the rear of Jane Doe’s car passed through Zach’s mind. Maybe Sara’s claim that Sawyer had batted his wife around was true.
Charles Milligan cut into Zach’s thoughts. “After walking around the entire house, we’re more concerned than ever about our daughter and granddaughter. The den and the kitchen were in disarray. Our daughter is a compulsive cleaner, always finding something to wash, or polish, and we know she’d never leave her house in such a state. The kitchen counter had two bowls of cereal, half-eaten, a box of cereal on its side with the contents strewn all over the counter, and a curdled container of milk still sitting there.”
“I wanted to run out of the house after seeing the kitchen like that, but Charles wanted to check all the floors. I waited in the hallway and prayed.”
Charles interrupted. “When I checked upstairs, the bedroom was a huge mess. Again, not at all like Amanda. There were clothes strewn all over the floor and draped across the chair. The bed was unmade, and there was a small empty suitcase on the floor next to the bed. There was a spot on the bedroom carpet and another in the living room. I wasn’t sure of what they were, but I thought they might have been blood.”
“We’ve tried calling Amanda on both phones. When we called the cell phone, we got a message saying it had been disconnected. The house phone rang until the voicemail came on. I left a message, but obviously have never heard back. That’s the reason we’re here today.”
The husband continued. “We’ve called Patrick’s cell phone and it has also been disconnected. We even called his office. His secretary said they went on a cruise. When we spoke to Amanda on Tuesday, she never mentioned anything about a cruise. We’re very close to our daughter and granddaughter, and there’s no way she’d keep that from us.”
Harwell rubbed his chin. “Do you think your daughter and son-in-law took advantage of a last minute cruise?”
“No,” Joyce Milligan said. “She would have called us from the airport, no matter what. She knows how we worry about them.” The husband reached over and grabbed his wife’s shaking hand.
“Detectives, have you done any investigating since Sara’s visit yesterday?” Charles asked.
“Yes,” Jessie offered, “this morning we went to Mr. Sawyer’s dealership to speak to him. He wasn’t there, so we asked his secretary some questions. She told us the same thing.”
Joyce Milligan’s head immediately shook from side to side in bafflement. “There’s no way Amanda would have done that without calling us,” she repeated.
Charles turned to his wife an exasperated stare. “Joyce, please let the detectives finish.” He exhaled. “Did the secretary say how long they were supposed to be away?”
“Three weeks.”
Charles frowned. “This sou
nds too far fetched, Detectives. I hate to keep repeating myself, but it’s so unlike Amanda to do anything like this without telling us. Did his secretary say if Patrick checks for messages when he’s away?”
“She said he usually does, but hasn’t so far. And although I don’t like the sound of this, in all fairness, his lack of communication could be due to the expense of the sea to land charges. She did give us his cell phone number. I tried it, but I found the same thing you did—it’s been disconnected.”
“What kind of marriage did your daughter and Patrick Sawyer have?” Jessie asked.
“They got along okay,” Charles said.
Mrs. Milligan’s face seared with alarm. “Oh my God. You think Patrick had something to do with this?”
“We can’t answer that right now,” Harwell said. “Once we check the house, we’ll have a better idea.”
Tears gushed from the woman’s eyes. Charles put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t jump to any conclusions, Joyce. We’ve never had any evidence they were having problems.” He stroked her hair.
“I’ll never forgive myself if anything happened to them because I didn’t pay more attention to their lives,” she sobbed.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Charles said.
“I didn’t want to be viewed as an interfering mother-in-law.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Jessie said, patting the woman’s hand. “But let’s just take it one step at a time. Okay? We don’t know what happened, and there’s no point in you rushing to judgment. Let us do our investigation first.”
“But, the last time I saw Amanda,” Joyce dabbed at her tears, “she had bruising on the corner of her eye, and black and blue circles . . . like thumbprints, on her forearm.”
Kensington and Gerard exchanged a curious glance. “Did she explain the bruising?” he asked.
Joyce nodded. “She said they’d been out, and Patrick had a few too many drinks. When they returned home, she helped him up the steps and just as they reached the bedroom door, she lost her balance and fell, clipping her eye on the corner of the door. In Patrick’s drunken stupor, he apparently had enough sense to help her, but his grip was tighter than he’d realized.” She swallowed hard. “It would be just like our Amanda to keep something like that from us—she wouldn’t want us to worry.” She blew her nose, now red from the frequency of wiping it with the tissue, and turned to her husband. “Charles, do you think he hurt Amanda and our little girl?”
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