G&K01 - The Last Witness

by KT Roberts

  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.”

  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 sounds 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.

  She 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?”

  “Okay,” Harwell intervened. “So, the last time you spoke to her was Tuesday. And Sara said Amanda didn’t show up for their lunch date on Wednesday. And you’re saying she’s never done anything like this before?”

  “No. Never,” Joyce answered, “she’s as reliable as the day is long.”

  Zach checked his watch. “It’s been more than seventy-two hours since anyone has heard from her, so let’s file a Missing Person’s Report, and begin a full-scale investigation. We currently have detectives checking the cruise line logs for their name. Is there any reason Mr. Sawyer would have used a fictitious name?”

  “None that I know of?” Charles answered. “I guess . . . unless he was running from the law.” His fingers curled into a fist. “If he did anything to hurt them, I won’t rest until he’s behind bars.”

  “Look, we know your emotions are running high right now, but let’s not put a noose around Sawyer’s neck before we have the proof. Let the detectives conduct their investigation.” Harwell suggested.

  “You’re right, Lieutenant Harwell.”

  “What is your opinion of your son-in-law? Harwell asked. “Has there ever been a problem between you?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Charles responded with a slight grin. “As most parents, we’ve never thought he was good enough for our Amanda, but he has provided her with a good monetary lifestyle. He’s the father of our granddaughter, and under those terms we’ve accepted him.”

  “But he is a wonderful father to his daughter,” Joyce defended. “He’s not home very much, but she’s the apple of his eye. I’ve chastised him for not being around more often, but Patrick claims the time they spend together is quality. During the marriage, Amanda has had several miscarriages. With each loss, Patrick became more and more despondent. I’m not sure if it was anger directed at Amanda for the loss of the pregnancies, or something else, but I do know he promised his mother he’d have a houseful of children. His despondency caused tension between us because we didn’t feel he showed the type of compassion toward Amanda you’d expect after such a devastating event.”

  “So, you’re saying there was tension in the marriage?”

  “Yes, at times, but I don’t think any more than a lot of couples experience. I guess it was more disappointment over the losses they suffered.”

  “As soon as we’re through here,” Zach announced, “Detective Kensington and I will get a search warrant for the residence from the Prosecutor’s office.”

  “We can give you our key if it would be quicker,” Charles offered.

  “Thank you, Mr. Milligan, but the Department needs to do this by the book,” Harwell said. “Once we obtain the warrant, we would appreciate using your key for the residence.”

  “Certainly. Let us know if there’s anything else we can do to help.” Charles turned toward Detective Gerard. “Can you tell us how to get in touch with Sara?”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have an address for her. She said she’s been staying with friends.”

  He grew silent as though lost in thought. His wife reached for his hand. “Will you see her again?” he asked.

  “Sara said she’d keep in touch with us, and based on the strong concern she displayed for her sister, I have no doubt she will.”

  “Will you tell her we’d like to see her?” Joyce Milligan said.

  “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Milligan.” Jessie watched the deep frown lines take over Charles’ face. It was no secret both parents were suffering.

  “After we fill out the Missing Person’s report, how long before it goes into effect?”

  “Right away. Do you have a photograph of Amanda?” she asked.

  Mrs. Milligan immediately began searching through her handbag. “Wait a minute,” Charles said, leaning over to reach for his wallet. He leafed through the few photos he held in his hand. “Here’s a photo of their wedding picture,” he stared at it for a long while before handing it over to Kensington. It’s probably eleven years old.”

  “Yes, Charles,” Joyce piped up, “it’s been that long.”

  Jessie held the photo in her hand while Zach leaned over her shoulder. She inhaled his scent and did her best to ignore the comfort she felt
from his closeness. She focused on the photo. Her stomach quivered when she saw Patrick Sawyer’s condescending smile, and wondered why someone so beautiful would marry a man like him. “We’ll make the necessary calls, check the hospitals—” Jessie stopped mid-sentence realizing she was telling them too much.

  “What?” Charles asked.

  “We’ll do everything we can to find your daughter.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the possibility of their daughter being in the morgue.

  “I have a few more questions I’d like to ask,” Zach added.

  “What kind of car does Amanda drive?” she asked.

  “A Mercedes.” Charles Milligan said, removing his glasses. “Why do you ask?”

  “We’re investigating an auto accident,” Zach added. “The female involved in the accident is suffering from amnesia.”

  “When we arrived at the scene,” he continued, “it appeared to be a normal wreck. Upon further investigation, we noticed the vehicle had been hit from behind multiple times. The victim was found alive, minimal bruising, and extremely confused about who she was.

  “What kind of car was this woman driving?” Joyce asked.

  “A Volvo.”

  Mrs. Milligan exhaled. “Amanda drives a Mercedes.”

  “That’s exactly what we figured,” he answered. “I imagine she’s had the pick of the litter being married to the man with the largest car dealership in the state. As it turned out this particular car was stolen.”

  The wife gave Zach a questionable frown. “I’m very confused right now, Detectives. You said Sara thought the sketch looked like our Amanda. Are you saying that the sketch was of the woman in the accident, and that this woman was driving a Volvo, and it was stolen?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Well, our Amanda would have no reason to drive another make car unless of course her car was being repaired. But even so, Patrick would have given her another Mercedes to drive.” She shook her head, as though unable to process the information. “And stealing a car? Not our Amanda.” She stood. “I’d like to go see this woman.”

  “We can’t do that, Mrs. Milligan.”

  “Why not?”

  Charles reached for his wife’s hand again, and gave her a firm look. Joyce Milligan closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh, then sat back down.

  “I’m getting to that,” Zach smiled. Joyce Milligan raised her hand in apology.

  “Do you know if your daughter had a male friend who was in his late fifties?”

  “Not that we’re aware of.” She turned to her husband, “Right, Charles?”

  “I’m not aware of any such person. But then, she wouldn’t have a conversation with me about such things.”

  “Are you suggesting the woman involved in the accident was having an affair?” Joyce Milligan asked.

  “No,” Jessie intervened. “We’re still investigating the accident.”

  “Well, I can assure you, our daughter isn’t the type to cheat on her husband. She loved her family.”

  “No one is suggesting your daughter was cheating, Mrs. Milligan,” Zach said. “We’re just compiling information for our investigation.”

  “How about male relatives?” he asked.

  “Our entire family lives on the west coast.”

  “Was Amanda involved in church activities?”

  “Our granddaughter attends a parochial school,” she answered. “I’m sure Amanda helps out at the church and school on occasion, but I’ve never heard her refer to anyone who was older.” Joyce Milligan’s face showed a gamut of emotions.

  “Later,” Zach continued, “another one of our detectives, who happened to be at the hospital when Jane Doe arrived, looked in on her so we could finish up our investigation. When he saw her, she was conscious and speaking to him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell him anything, because she didn’t seem to know who she was. He questioned her for a while, but to no avail. He stepped away to take a phone call and when he returned, she was gone.”

  Mrs. Milligan gasped. “Where did she go?”

  “No one seems to know that,” Jessie said. “Security checked the entire hospital, called dispatch to send a few cars out to check the surrounding neighborhoods, but that proved to be futile. Detective Bradshaw, who spent most of the time with her waiting in the ER, sat with the department’s sketch artist,” she said, pulling the sketch out of the file, and handed it to the woman, “and this is what they came up with.”

  “Oh my God, that’s our daughter. That’s our Amanda.”

  Charles reached for the sketch. “I’m not so sure, Joyce. It’s a likeness of her, but I’m just not sure that it’s her.”

  “That’s Amanda.” Mrs. Milligan rubbed her fingers over the sketch as though she were touching her daughter’s cheek. “What did Sara say when she saw the sketch?”

  “That’s why she came into the precinct. She’d seen the sketch around town and was quite adamant it was her sister.”

  “Detective Kensington, did you say you spoke to the woman who was in the accident?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, what did you think when you saw Amanda’s wedding picture? Did it look like this woman?”

  “I’m not sure Mrs. Milligan.” Jessie thought there might have been a resemblance between the two women, but the hair color was wrong, and her face looked different. It wasn’t a good idea to give the mother false hope. “Has your daughter ever had any work done on her face?”

  “You mean, like plastic surgery?”

  “Yes.”

  The Milligans looked at one another, an astonished expression on their faces. “Oh God, I can’t believe I forgot to mention it. The poor thing. It was right after her second miscarriage . . . there was a terrible fire in the house. Amanda was sleeping when the fire broke out.” Her hands bridged over her nose. “Thank God, the firemen moved quickly. She could have been burnt to a crisp.” Her shoulders shuddered. “Fortunately, the fireman heard her screaming and rushed in to save her.”

  13

  Two law enforcement vehicles followed behind Detectives Gerard and Kensington to the Sawyer residence at W 87th Street.

  “Boy, I wouldn’t mind living in this neighborhood,” Jessie said, when they pulled up in front of the mansion. “We’re obviously in the wrong field.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “How about we pool our money together and go into the car dealership business?”

  Zach laughed. “I might have enough to get a chop shop going, but that’s about it.” He turned to Jessie. “Hey, does that mean you and me are a thing?”

  “Not a chance, hotshot. We aren’t anything.”

  “So the other night was just a try-out?”

  “No. The other night was a mistake.” There. It was out. She’d finally said it.

  “Yeah, I guess I have to agree with you,” Zach said smiling to himself. He liked giving her a dose of her own medicine and wondered if it would have any affect on her. He gave her a side-glance to check her reaction and she didn’t disappoint. She clamped her mouth shut and exited the vehicle. He smiled at her body language. It was just the reaction he was hoping to see. A rush of confidence flowed through him knowing it was her nature to fight a relationship with him until the bitter end, but he was a patient man. He sensed she was feeling awkward by the way she averted her eyes from his. He tapped her on the arm anxious to break the ice.

  “What?” she said.

  “You ready to go inside?”

  “You bet.”

  “I’m praying Mr. Milligan didn’t compromise our evidence, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Jessie was mesmerized as she stood looking at the front of the house. “Standing in front of this place reminds me that I’m not living the good life. This place looks like the Taj Mahal, for chrissake.”

  The exterior of the house was a classic Beaux Arts structure, with a light brick and limestone façade. Three law enforcement vehicles parked in the middle of the
street blocking anyone from entering or exiting. Officers directed traffic around the parked cars.

  A couple walking their dog stopped and watched with puzzled expressions. A few seconds later, the woman was on her cell phone.

  “It won’t be long now before the entire friggin’ neighborhood is camping out here,” Zach said with sarcasm.

  “Fascination,” Jessie responded. “Pure fascination.”

  The man called out to the detectives. “Is everything all right in there?” he pointed toward the Sawyer house.

  “Nothing to be alarmed about, sir. We’re merely doing an investigation.” The man stepped forward, encroaching on the detectives’ space. The quick movement of Zach’s stop gesture caused the small white dog to bark incessantly. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you and your dog to step back.”

  The woman bent down, scooped the dog up off the pavement and cradled him in her arms, rocking him like a baby. The dog continued to growl despite the woman’s attempt to control his temperament.

  “Uh, sure.” He jerked back, and glanced at the woman standing next to him. “But if there’s something we need to be concerned about, you’ll be sure to notify everyone in the neighborhood, right?”

  “The operative word here, sir, is if. Now, please step back and let us do our jobs.”

  As Zach suspected, a collection of neighbors could be seen walking down the sidewalks headed toward the Sawyer residence.

  Zach turned to one of the two officers who’d trailed behind him. “You guys have crowd control.”

  They both nodded their agreement and one held up a reel of yellow tape. Zach nodded in agreement. The tape would be a good barrier to keep people away from their investigation.

  Jessie was at the front door examining the frame around the front door. “There doesn’t appear to be any point of forced entry but let’s not be hasty.” With guns drawn, they entered the home, each going in different directions, one after the other shouting “clear”.