No Safe Secret

by Fern Michaels

  “No, of course not. I just had to ask given that you’re drinking now. I wasn’t sure. Just want to make sure we’re both clear on the details, that’s all. Go on, you were telling me about your wife.” The dead one, he thought, but didn’t dare voice this.

  “Yes, I was. She’s great. Really. Cooks like a pro. You should see the dinner parties she throws. I met her in a diner where she worked. Hey, maybe we’ll have you over some night. You can see for yourself.”

  Bryan thought the doctor was not only drunk but slightly off. He’d never been invited to dinner by one of his doctors, let alone one whose wife was missing.

  “Yes, well then, let’s talk about her. Her name is . . .” He looked blankly at the doctor “What did you say? I’m sorry, we’re all over the place. My memory isn’t getting any better with age.” He liked to act like an airhead, kind of like Peter Falk in Columbo. It put people at ease. And that’s when they let their guard down.

  “Her name is Molly.”

  “Oh yes. Right. Molly. Now, tell me about the argument you two had.”

  “We had a few guests over for dinner last night. Doctors who want to invest in my fourth office. We’re going to be nationwide in the future. People like pretty white teeth. It’s a good investment if you’re interested, though you probably don’t have money to invest in a dental clinic.” He laughed. “Sorry, I get excited when I start talking about the future in dentistry. We had dinner, then dessert. Molly served coffee, no, she didn’t serve coffee. She set the pot on the buffet, and we served ourselves. She had some kind of cake she’d purchased at Gloria’s, that organic market she can’t seem to stay out of. Their prices are out of sight, too. Don’t shop there, you’ll go broke. As we were having dessert, Holden, my son, took a bad fall. He’s the older of the twins by four minutes. I ran upstairs to see what the noise was. Graham was standing at the top of the staircase, scared to death. Apparently, Holden had tripped over the mess on his bedroom floor, hit his head on the corner of the bed, and knocked himself out. Cold as ice. I checked his pulse, and well, I am a doctor. After I determined he was okay, I told Molly to please ask our guests to leave since we had a family emergency. She did, but as soon as they were gone, she went crazy. She accused Holden of using drugs, she tore up a four-thousand-dollar dress, and, basically, she went ballistic.”

  Bryan nodded and continued to write in his notebook. “You didn’t try to calm her down?”

  “Of course I did, but as I said, she went crazy. She kept saying things about the boys that weren’t true and told me she’d hated them since day one, and well, as a father, that’s the last thing you want your wife to say about your kids, no matter how old they are. She took a nasty fall, smacked the you know what out of her cheek. Then, when Kristen saw how her mother was acting, she insisted that she come into her room. Molly stayed there all night. At least I think she was there all night. I’m sure she took Kristen to the airport this morning.”

  Bryan scribbled more information, but he had a memory like an elephant. If he missed writing it down, he’d remember it, no matter what. It was his best skill as a detective—at least he liked to think it was one of his best skills. “Are you saying you haven’t seen her since your argument last night when she went to your daughter’s room?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Though this could be a typical case of a pissed-off wife who was staying with friends—or in this case, maybe some fancy spa—his gut told him otherwise. He’d learned a very long time ago to listen to his gut instinct, as he was rarely wrong when he did.

  “Normally, we like to wait twenty-four hours before we start a formal investigation, but if we deem the circumstances appropriate, we will begin investigating immediately. Would it be possible to speak with your sons?”

  The look on the doctor’s face spoke volumes. Anger, Bryan could see it. Hell, on this man, he could smell it.

  “No, that’s not possible. As I told you, Holden suffered a head injury and wouldn’t recall anything useful.”

  “And your other son? Graham, I believe. I’d like to speak with him.” It was not a question.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, either. Graham wouldn’t have anything to offer.”

  “Dr. McCann, why don’t you let me decide what’s useful and what isn’t. You called me because you’re concerned about your wife. I’m here to help. If your son Graham is here, I’d like to speak to him.”

  “He’s out on a date. How in the hell did I forget that?” He laughed and stood up to pour himself another drink. “You sure you don’t want something? A soda? Water? I might’ve had a bit too much to drink; I swear it completely slipped my mind. Graham called me this evening and told me he was going out and not to wait up.”

  “Did he call your cell phone? The number you called me from?” Bryan was curious what excuse he’d come up with now.

  “Of course he did.”

  “Then you wouldn’t mind showing me your cell phone, for when you received the call? Just procedure, but, of course, you know this.” He laughed.

  “Not at all.” He removed his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to him.

  “Thanks, what’s Graham’s number? The one he would have called from?”

  “It’s 617-555-0325.”

  Bryan pulled up the recent calls, making a note to remember the other numbers as he scrolled through them; he’d jot a few down if he had to. He went through them carefully, but didn’t find the number. One more time, and he handed the phone back to Dr. McCann. “I can’t seem to locate that number. Maybe there is another number he could have called from?”

  “Shoot, I might’ve deleted it. Sorry.”

  “Okay, Dr. McCann. Let’s talk about where your wife might be. Does she have a friend she’d stay with, a favorite spa, a hotel, someplace we can start searching. And what about her car. I’ll need the make and model, and the license-plate number.”

  “That’s the big mystery. Her car is still in the garage.” This is getting screwier by the minute, Bryan thought. “Would a friend have picked her up? How did she take your daughter to the airport this morning? Does she have another car?”

  “No, she doesn’t have anyone who would drive her to the airport when there is no need. Kristen has a car, but it’s in the shop now. Barry’s Automotive. You can check it out. It’s a 2014 Honda Civic. She took it in for a tune-up a couple of days ago. It should’ve been ready by now. That’s why Molly had to drive her to the airport.”

  He knew Barry’s; he took his own car there. That would be easy to check. He jotted down a few more notes, then closed the notebook and laid the fountain pen on top of the doctor’s desk. He stood up and walked across the room to the set of wooden doors.

  “I thought you were going to write up a missing person report. What’s the problem?” Tanner followed him to the door.

  Bryan stopped at the exit. “Dr. McCann, I can’t see there’s any cause for concern. You had a fight. You’re pretty sure Molly drove your daughter to the airport, and your sons have nothing to offer. I’m guessing—and humor me, as this is an educated guess—your wife will come home tomorrow full of apologies, you will take her to some fancy place for dinner, then come home and kiss and make up. I just don’t see any reason to start an investigation.”

  “So you’re telling me I’m crazy? Is that what you’re saying? I know my wife, dammit! If I say she’s missing, she’s missing. Get out of my house! I plan on calling your superior the second you leave, so prepare yourself. If I have anything to say, your incompetent ass will be out of a job. Now get the hell out of my house!”

  Bryan walked down the long hallway to the front door and let himself out.

  After hearing what Dr. McCann had to say, Bryan had, with no compunction, lied to him. He did indeed plan on starting an investigation, but it wasn’t into the disappearance of the doctor’s wife, at least not yet.

  No, he planned to start an investigation into the doctor’s background.


  Chapter Eighteen

  Molly spent what was left of the night tossing and turning. Images of Sunday mornings spent in Pastor Royer’s church had taken on a whole new meaning since reading her mother’s obituary.

  It was still early, but she couldn’t sleep and didn’t see any reason to stay in the hotel any longer than necessary. She packed up her laptop, dumped the water from the cooler into the tub, and stuffed her makeup kit and old clothes inside her luggage. She left her key card on the desk, following the instructions for those guests who wished to check out without stopping at the front desk. She checked the room, making sure she hadn’t left anything behind. When she was satisfied, she hefted the cooler to a spot on top of her luggage, hung her purse around her neck, and slung the computer bag over her right shoulder.

  Being up and out so early was to her advantage. No one saw her leave. She opened the trunk and placed her luggage inside, along with the cooler. She could’ve filled it with ice from the hotel’s ice machine, but right now all she cared about was heading south.

  As she was about to open the driver’s door, she heard an odd sound, almost like a baby’s crying. She leaned closer to the front of the car, where she thought the sound came from.

  There it was again.

  “Crap,” she muttered as she stooped down to look under the car. What she saw broke her heart. She opened the door and grabbed the bag of beef jerky. She opened it and squatted, holding out a piece to the little kitten huddled beneath the car. “Come here, baby. It’s okay.” Not sure if the little fur ball was feral, lost, or abandoned, she patiently waited for the cat to take the piece of jerky. Slowly, the cat made its way to the jerky. Molly tore the food into bite-size pieces and watched as the cat devoured it. She repeated the process two more times. Hesitant at first, she gently rubbed the cat between the ears. “Did someone kick you out?”

  The cat meowed and rubbed against her leg. Before she could change her mind, she scooped the cat up in her arms and set it down in the passenger seat. “We’re going for a long ride,” she said, closing her door.

  The cat meowed and settled against the seat as though he or she belonged there. Molly plugged the phone charger into the old cigarette lighter and put the charging cord into her phone. Again, she brought up Google. She typed in “pet store.” A Pet Supermarket was 2.3 miles from the hotel. Repeating last night’s process, she hit the Google map and followed the directions. At this rate, she was never going to get out of Massachusetts. If Tanner sent someone searching for her, they would have no problem finding witnesses.

  The cat was completely black except for its paws. They were white. She ran her finger beneath the pad of his or her paw. This cat had been declawed. Probably belonged to someone, but there was no collar. She knew some veterinarians could scan for a chip in lost pets, but she wasn’t going to go that far. She fluffed the cat between the ears.

  “Meow.”

  She smiled. “I think you’re my new best friend.” Kristen had always wanted a cat, but Tanner refused to allow an animal in their home. Bastard. If she were truly honest, and there was no reason not to be, she hated him.

  Yes, she hated his guts with all of her heart and soul, and not only did she not care, but if she could, she would shout it to the world. If she were to cross his path again, and she was sure that she would, she planned to tell him exactly how much she hated him. Slowly but surely, she was becoming more gutsy in her thoughts and deeds. She’d been gone for more than twenty-four hours. Tanner was either planning to have her killed or telling some outrageous story about her disappearance.

  She saw the sign for the Pet Supermarket and pulled into the parking lot. Knowing that most pets were welcome in pet stores, she scooped up the cat and carried him inside.

  “Meow, meow.”

  She grabbed a large shopping cart and headed for the sign hanging from the ceiling that read CATS. Having never had the pleasure of being a pet owner, she needed a bit of help. She wasn’t too happy about bringing attention to herself, but she needed advice.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a man who was unloading boxes. “I need some help with this cat.” She smiled, hoping she didn’t sound too silly.

  “Sure thing.” The man was about her age. His name tag read GREGG, STORE MANAGER. He scratched the cat between the ears.

  “Meow.”

  Gregg laughed. “Good cat. Now what can I help you with?”

  Here goes yet another lie. “A friend couldn’t keep this little . . .” she wasn’t sure of its sex and didn’t want him to know, so she said, “Fur ball. An apartment thing. I volunteered to give it a home, but stupid me forgot to bring the supplies. I need everything.”

  “I can help you with that. Now, does this little guy like dry or wet food?” Again he fluffed the cat between the ears and received a hearty “meow” in response.

  She had no clue, so she said, “Both.”

  “Most cats do, so I can take care of that. He looks a bit on the thin side, so let’s give him something to bulk him up a bit. That okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Twenty minutes later, Molly had a cart full of all the essentials. The cashier rang her up without any trouble, and before she knew it, she and Ace were in the car. She’d decided on the name when Gregg had commented that he was as black as an ace of spades. Continuing the ruse she said, “That’s his name. Ace.”

  “Good name,” he’d said.

  Before leaving the parking lot, she put Ace’s new bed on the seat next to her. On the floorboard was a small dish filled with dry food. She had a water dish, too, but he’d had plenty to drink before they left, so she hadn’t refilled it. She’d placed a litter pan on the back floorboard, hoping he’d know what it was for when the time came. All in all, she was settled in for the long drive ahead, and her new companion seemed to be as well.

  Once she was on the interstate, she thought about her mother’s obituary. What did it mean, Royer? Were they related to Pastor Royer, and her mother had neglected to tell her, or was it something more? Molly decided that most likely it was something more. Her mother’s family, what there was of it, lived in Texas—at least that’s what she’d always been led to believe. If Pastor Royer had been a distant relative, she was sure her mother would’ve taken advantage of him. He had never mentioned they were related when she helped out on Sundays after the service. Surely, he would’ve said something to her. Molly had so many questions and, so far, very few answers.

  Of course, by now she knew exactly who had called her yesterday, knew who it was that had almost scared the life out of her, but she had a plan, and she intended to see it through to the end. On her Internet search last night, she’d learned that the Florida statute of limitations specifically addressed the use of DNA to identify suspects. Specifically, it said prosecution for rape could be commenced within two years of the use of DNA evidence to establish or confirm the identity of the accused. And now she was putting her hopes on a twenty-one-year-old prom dress and someone else from her past.

  Sarah Berkovitz-Fine, Boston’s top assistant district attorney, who just so happened to specialize in sex crimes.

  The crime had taken place in Florida, but Molly would bet her last nickel that her old roommate Sarah could advise her on how to achieve her goal of seeing as many of her attackers as could be identified by the DNA evidence and prosecuted. Molly had seen a picture of Sarah on the Web. She was stunning, and her bio said she was married and had one son. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. Molly was happy for her, and sorry she hadn’t stayed in touch. As soon as she arrived in Florida, she planned to call her. She’d added her number to her cell phone last night.

  She glanced down at the gas gauge. She still had half a tank. The Mustang did not get good gas mileage, but she didn’t care. Unlike the trip she’d made all those years ago, money was the least of her concerns. She’d go another fifty miles or so, then stop to fill the tank. She needed some caffeine anyway. And Ace was probably getting thirsty, too.


  She hadn’t heard from Kristen, but with the time difference, she hadn’t expected to. Right now she was probably pedaling away on some country road in France. Molly was happy her daughter was experiencing all the joys a girl her age should. Her one regret: Kristen had no idea of her past. Sadly, she would learn about it, and, most likely, it was not going to be pretty when she did. If not for Kristen, she wouldn’t care. However, last night when she’d read about the low-life bastard—at least one of the low-life bastards—who’d ruined her life, a spark had ignited deep in her gut, and she wanted to do whatever it took to see to it that they were all punished. If she’d killed or maimed any of them that night, she would accept whatever punishment a court of law meted out to her.

  Ace stretched, his back arching in a U shape. He circled his new bed a couple of times, then lay back down, curling himself up in a ball. Gregg from the pet store had guessed he was at least six months old when she’d asked. While an animal was not in her plans, she found she kind of liked having him with her. She would say something, and he would look at her and respond with a meow.

  For the next hour, she listened to a talk-radio station based in Boston but then switched to a classical music station that also had news on the hour. She despised the news, but she thought there might be a chance that Tanner had reported her missing. She highly doubted he would, but in case he did, she wanted to know in order to prepare herself. She might need to adjust her plans. Not that he had a clue where she was headed, but one call to the taxi service and it wouldn’t be too hard to follow her trail from there. The gym, the bus, the storage unit. Even though she’d been somewhat disguised, a good detective could find her.

  She kept her fingers crossed that Tanner wouldn’t call the police.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After leaving Dr. McCann, Bryan Whitmore returned to the station, where he spent the rest of his shift investigating the dentist. He did not like what he learned. He almost feared for the current Mrs. McCann, but a quick call to airport security confirmed that her Mercedes had been there yesterday morning, just like the doctor said. He’d checked the flight manifest, and, sure enough a Kristen Renee McCann had boarded a flight to Paris. So where was the doctor’s wife? Though he’d only walked down the hallway leading to the doctor’s den, he hadn’t seen any signs of a struggle. Of course, how much would he have been able to see in a long and dimly lit hall? He hadn’t realized how dark the hall was, as he thought about it just now. Had the dentist been hiding something? Blood? Flesh? Evidence of a gunshot?