by Karen Fenech
Jake had to work to keep himself from banging on Ryder’s door and finding out just where he’d been earlier. To find out if Ryder had it in him to harm Clare. If Jake thought he’d get his answer, he’d take Ryder apart. Badge be damned.
With nothing more to do, Jake turned away from Ryder’s house and went home.
* * * * *
Clare was on the road the next morning when Jake called.
“I’m meeting Petty at his office in an hour,” he said.
Clare glanced at her watch. Eleven o’clock. “I’ll be there.”
On the other end of the line, she heard Jake rifle papers.
“I checked about Ryder’s car,” Jake went on. “Sheriff’s office has nothing on it.”
“So we still don’t know how the car got back to Ryder. I want a look inside that car.”
“No way a judge is going to grant a warrant to impound the vehicle. Not with what we have.”
Clare chewed her lip. “We have Parker Burby’s account.”
“Which amounts to squat. What did Burby actually see? Dean Ryder standing over his wife—who Burby was told—fell. Burby didn’t witness an assault. Ryder has no history of violence on record against her or anyone else. And we’re missing something significant—motive. We ruled out money. Beth has none for him to inherit. No insurance pay-off on her.”
“If he thought she was leaving him for Hoag.”
“Ryder denies that he found out about Hoag before Beth was gone.”
“Ryder denies a lot of things.”
“Our only shot at sweating him,” Jake said, “is if Ryder would agree to a noncustodial interview.”
Clare snorted.
“Couldn’t have said it better.”
Clare was silent, fuming. Even if Ryder did agree to an interview, anything he said could be thrown out by a good defense attorney, arguing that his client, a decorated police detective, had felt pressured with so much at stake, including his career, and wasn’t of sound judgment during the interview.
She was sure Ryder was responsible for Beth’s disappearance, but she wasn’t interested at this point in trying to find evidence to get a charge against him to stick; all she wanted was to find Beth.
“Okay, Jake. See you at Petty’s.” She disconnected and tossed the cell phone onto the passenger seat.
She’d been on her way to see Ryder before he left for work when Jake called. She spotted Ryder’s pickup now, pulling into the parking lot of Dawson Foods, and followed him.
She parked beside Ryder’s truck, and left her car before it had completely rocked to a stop.
She stepped into Ryder’s path as he rounded his own vehicle. “The last place we know for sure that Beth was is your car. We want to take a look at it.”
He raised an arm, hailing a boy collecting carts for return to their designated location. “I’ll take one,” Ryder said to the boy.
“Why not, Dean?” Clare stepped between Ryder and the boy, preventing Ryder from accepting the cart. “You have no reason to oppose this. Despite your differences with Beth, her life may be in jeopardy. Why wouldn’t you want to do what you could to aid in the investigation? Unless you don’t want Beth found?”
Other shoppers were making their way to and from vehicles. Some were within earshot of Clare’s conversation with Ryder and stopped, taking in the scene.
“No warrant for a search and seizure?” Ryder asked. “Then get out of my way.”
“Got your note last night, Dean. I waited for you. You didn’t show up. What happened? Ex-marine. War hero. Big, tough Columbia PD detective.” She stepped closer. “Wife beater. Afraid of a woman?”
“You’ve crossed a line here, Agent Marshall.” Ryder spat her name as if it tasted foul.
He was right. She had, indeed, crossed a line with him. If he did decide to claim harassment, at the very least she would be facing an interview with the Bureau’s Office of Professional Responsibility to answer an allegation of misconduct. At the most, her handling of this investigation would cost her career.
Keeping her gaze on his, she proceeded as she’d planned. She smiled and whispered, “I’m just getting started.”
Clare left Ryder. She had a little time before the meeting with Jake and the sheriff. She’d use it to try to track down Rich Dannon.
She drove to the inn. The same two men she’d seen playing checkers the day before on the verandah were immersed in another game.
Clare climbed the porch steps and faced the two men. “Hello.”
The men looked up from the board. One had eyebrows as thick as a caterpillar and at that moment they were drawn together in obvious displeasure at the interruption.
“I’m looking for Richard Dannon,” Clare said. “Do you know where I can find him?”
“No,” the man with the thick eyebrows said.
The other man spoke up in a nasal tone. “Mr. Dannon told me that he conducts business meetings out of Charley’s Bar on Main Street sometimes. You can try him there. As a matter of fact, I’ll be meeting him there myself on business this afternoon at two.” The man ended the statement with a smile.
“You going to waste time talking, or you going to make your move?” the thick-eyebrowed fellow interrupted.
Clare thanked the man who’d provided the information then left him and his companion to their game.
When she entered Charley’s ten minutes later, three men were at the bar, laughing and sipping twelve-year-old Scotch, according to the label on the bottle between them. One of the men was familiar. Tall. Toned. Square-jawed. Sun-streaked shaggy hair. This was the man she’d seen at the gas station on her first day in Farley.
Clare approached the trio. “Good morning. I’m looking for Mr. Dannon.”
The man from the gas station glanced up from his drink. His gaze fixed on her for an instant, then intensified with blatant interest.
“Not ‘Mr. Dannon’ to you.” He smiled. “Pretty ladies call me Rich, darlin’.”
He wore a sport jacket now that was a knock-off Italian design—and in a blue that accentuated his deep tan. He had a voice that was as smooth as the scotch he was drinking.
“If I’m not mistaken, you’re the FBI lady come here looking for her sister,” Dannon added. “I have to say you two sure do look alike. Ain’t that right, boys?”
The two men with him murmured their agreement.
“You know my name.” He leaned over the mahogany bar, closing some of the distance between them. “Now, darlin’, what can I call you?”
“Agent Marshall.” She removed her ID from her purse and held it up for him to see. “May we have a word in private?”
One of the other men whooped out a laugh. He hiked up his pants from beneath his protruding belly. “She’s mighty cold to you, Rich. You sure you didn’t already diddle this one, and forgotten?”
Dannon laughed in good humor. “Now, that’s no way to talk in front of a lady. Besides, I never forget a pretty face. Boys, you know that.” He pushed off the bar and meandered toward her, dropping his arm casually around her shoulders and steering her to a secluded booth at the opposite end of the bar.
“What can I get you to drink, darlin’?” Rich asked.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“That you are. Hold my calls, Charley,” Dannon called out with a grin to the bartender.
Clare took a seat in the booth. When Dannon was about to slide in beside her, she cut him off with a frosty stare.
He splayed his hand across his heart, but with his smile still in place, moved to sit across from her. He draped an arm across the back of the maroon bench seat.
A radio sat on a dusty shelf above the bar. At the moment, Kenny Rogers was begging Ruby not to take her love to town. With his other hand, Dannon tapped the tabletop in time to the drum beat. Clare got right to the point.
“Mr. Dannon, you’re right that Beth Ryder is my sister and I’m trying to locate her. I’ve been told that she left Farley ten days ago and I’m asking her fr
iends and relatives if she may have mentioned her destination.”
“Your Yankee accent is driving me crazy,” Dannon whispered, and winked at her. “How long you been in the FBI, darlin’? Nothing makes me hotter than a woman doing a man’s job, I’ve got to say.” He paused and his smile spread a little wider. “So tell me, just where do you keep your gun?”
Clare went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “When did you last see Beth, Mr. Dannon?”
“Rich, remember?”
He closed his eyes briefly and moved his head slowly from side to side. “I can’t recall exactly. Beth worked at the inn, so we bumped into each other from time to time when I happened to be there too.”
“Do you also work there?”
Dannon laughed loud. “Hell, no.”
“Where are you employed, Mr. Dannon?”
Dannon’s blonde brows drew together, causing the tanned, previously unlined skin of his forehead to wrinkle. The smile left his face. “I’m self-employed.”
“What is the nature of your employment?”
Dannon’s posture tensed. “I have several business enterprises.” He lifted his sleeve, exposing a replica designer watch.
The man was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Clare believed she’d lose him if she pushed, and decided the matter of Dannon’s employment could wait for now.
“Did Beth mention plans to leave Farley?” Clare asked.
“Never said a thing to me. I didn’t have much to do with her.” His gaze traveled over Clare. “Maybe I should have spent time talking with her, learning about her out-of-state family.” His gaze fixed on hers again. “You strike me as a woman with fire.” He leaned over the table. “I like a woman with fire.”
“How well do you know my sister?”
“We’re from this same one-horse town, so I saw her around when we were growing up.” He pinned Clare with a piercing gaze. “How about having dinner with me tonight?” He caressed the back of her hand with a fingertip. “We’ll drive into Columbia. I know a great club, The Starlight.” He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth, where he ran it across his lips. “I could show you the sights. Show you a nice time. Be back at sun-up. Our little secret. No one would know.”
Like his wife, Clare thought. She extracted her hand from his grasp.
“So where can I pick you up for dinner?” he asked.
Clare removed a business card from her purse and scribbled her cell phone number on the back of it. “If you recall anything Beth may have said to you about her departure, I can be reached at this number.” Clare got to her feet. “Good day, Mr. Dannon.”
Dannon didn’t respond immediately, then said, “Hey, easy come, easy go.”
He shrugged but his smile faded, and his stare turned ice cold, belying his comment.
As Clare turned away from him, she thought the easygoing Dannon wasn’t so easygoing after all.
Clare left Dannon and drove to the sheriff’s office for the meeting with Petty and Jake. Jake had already arrived; his SUV was parked at the curb in front of the small building that housed the Sheriff’s office. There wasn’t another space available there so Clare drove a short distance up the street to a vacant spot.
Inside the small lobby, a deputy sat at a desk, pecking at a computer keyboard.
“Help you, ma’am?” the young deputy asked.
“I’m here for a meeting with Agent Sutton and Sheriff Petty.” Clare held up her ID.
“They’re waiting for you, ma’am. I’m to take you right back to the sheriff’s office. Right this way.”
The deputy rose to his feet and ushered her into a small office. Petty sat behind his desk. Jake was in a shiny chair across from the sheriff. A couple of framed commendations hung on the wall behind the desk. A bookcase held several framed photographs of the sheriff with other people.
The sheriff leaned forward to greet her and the worn leather chair creaked and groaned. “Agent Marshall,” Petty said. “Have a sit-down.”
Jake held the chair beside his for her as she complied.
Jake had already discussed the reason for the meeting when he and Petty set it up earlier, Clare knew. She listened now as he updated her and Petty as to the status of the investigation to that point.
“The Bureau hasn’t had any response from law enforcement offices regarding the missing persons report filed on Beth Ryder yesterday evening,” Jake said. “Nothing yet from VICAP.”
The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program searched for similarities in missing persons cases. Clare wasn’t expecting VICAP to turn up anything relevant to her sister. She didn’t have Dean Ryder pegged as a career criminal. She believed his crimes had been perpetuated against Beth alone.
Clare picked up the conversation, and apprised Petty of their efforts locally to find Beth thus far. She told Petty that Beth had not left town with Gil Hoag, despite having made plans to do so. She also mentioned her suspicion of abuse in Beth’s marriage and that she considered Ryder a suspect in her sister’s disappearance. Despite her antipathy toward Petty, Clare held nothing back about her suspicion of Ryder. She had nothing to lose. Dean Ryder certainly knew that she suspected him. She also wanted to bring as much pressure to bear on Ryder as she could. If Petty thought it prudent to look into Dean Ryder as well, so much the better.
Petty nodded. “We’ll do what we can, of course.”
“Do you have a problem with our jurisdiction on this case, Oz?” Jake asked.
The Bureau didn’t normally investigate adult missing persons unless an abduction across state lines occurred or aid was requested by local law enforcement.
Petty shook his head. “No problem, Jake. I have no experience with this kind of case.”
“We appreciate your help, Oz.” Jake stood and shook Petty’s hand. “Let’s keep in touch.”
“Sure thing, Jake. We’re all on the same team here.”
Clare had no patience for diplomacy and was glad the task fell to Jake.
On the sidewalk in front of the sheriff’s office, Jake turned to her. “Where are you headed?”
Clare dug her car key out of her purse. “To see Gladys Linney.”
She wanted to ask Beth’s adoptive mother about Beth’s last visit again. Something may come back to the woman that could provide a lead to Beth’s whereabouts on a second questioning.
Jake glanced at his watch. “I have another meeting to get to. Let me know if you learn anything from Gladys.”
Gladys wasn’t in her room when Clare arrived at the facility. One of the duty nurses informed Clare that Gladys was partaking of her daily physical therapy needed since her stroke.
Clare took up a position at the wall opposite Gladys’s room to wait.
A couple of nurses strolled past Clare. A door was opened briefly, and for a moment the strains of a violin joined the sounds of call bells ringing, and the rumble of a cart laden with empty lunch trays making its way down the hall.
An elevator door opened. An orderly pushed a wheelchair bearing Gladys onto the floor.
Clare gave the orderly some time to settle Gladys in her room. When the orderly left, she pushed off the wall and tapped on Gladys’s door.