Stone Cold

by Dean Crawford

  She took a breath outside the door to their apartment, her door key in her hand hovering before the lock. Just a little while longer, she told herself. You can do this.

  Kathryn shoved the key in the lock and walked inside.

  ‘Hi!’

  Her greeting was answered from the living room, where she could see the flicker of the television glowing and Stephen’s legs resting on the coffee table. The waft of Chinese takeaway filled the apartment, and Kathryn turned into the kitchen and grabbed herself a plate. The food was still hot, so she took her time and dished herself out a helping and grabbed a can of soda before making her way slowly into the lounge.

  Stephen was in the recliner chair, his half–eaten lunch resting on a coffee table nearby and a bottle of beer clasped in his hand. She could tell at a glance that he was unhappy. His features were drawn and although he was watching a comedy show his gaze was unfocused.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked as she perched herself alongside him on the sofa.

  Stephen drew a hand down his face and sighed. ‘No, not really.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I got a call from HQ a couple of hours ago. The latest deal went south,’ he replied. ‘Company could not afford the premiums after all, once their finances were checked out. Damned near in liquidation, so there’s no way that they could afford us and no way we’d forward cover to them anyway. Whole thing was a waste of time.’

  Kathryn looked down at her plate. ‘I’m sorry, I know how hard you worked for that one.’

  Stephen nodded slowly, but did not reply.

  ‘What are you going to do next?’

  Stephen looked at his beer for a moment as though considering whether to drink it or hurl it across the room.

  ‘I’ll head back in the morning. There’s an action meeting, if you can call it that, and I want to be there to find out what went wrong. We should never have been involved with a company in such decline. I’m guessing whoever cleared them without running the proper checks first will get a rocket up their ass come tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t you select clients?’ Kathryn asked sweetly as she popped a piece of sweet and sour chicken into her mouth.

  Stephen shook his head. ‘I approach potential clients, but head office audits them before I go back in and negotiate the deals and any contracts are drawn up.’

  Stephen looked at her, his face half–lit by the glowing television. She could see he had not shaved and his hair was messy, which was unlike him. That he was under pressure she was in no doubt, and although the knowledge sparked an intense delight somewhere deep inside she still felt as though the emotion was somehow unjustified. He was suffering, and the knowledge made her both powerful and uncomfortable.

  ‘What happens now?’ she asked him.

  Stephen sighed, his dark eyes reflecting the television. ‘I won’t make any commission this month again.’

  ‘Even though it’s not your fault?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter to corporate,’ Stephen replied. ‘The deal’s not done. I got my first–half commission when the company signed up, but the rest is in the wind now.’

  Kathryn looked down at her meal.

  ‘So you can’t cover the rent again?’ she said.

  Stephen shook his head slowly. ‘I’m sorry honey, I know it’s a pain but there’s nothing that I can do. I’ll cover the other bills and the car with what I’ve got left, okay?’

  Kathryn popped another morsel of chicken that she didn’t really want into her mouth. It meant that she could avoid speaking for another few moments. Stephen sighed and took a pull from his beer before he got up and headed without another word to the shower.

  Kathryn waited until she heard the water running and then made herself comfortable on the sofa and tucked into her takeaway with relish. Thoughts flashed through her mind as she considered what Stephen had said.

  His bosses had called two hours ago, and yet he was unshaven? Stephen had driven home in the very early morning, but it was already one in the afternoon. If he’d slept for a full four or five hours it would only have been ten or eleven in the morning, plenty of time left to have a shower, shave and so on like he normally would do. It was one of the things that had first attracted her to Stephen, the fact that he had always been clean–cut, had always looked after himself. She decided that it was possible, given everything that had happened recently, that he had simply let himself slip for an hour or two.

  So that left the call itself, from his bosses. The company he worked for was headquartered two hundred miles away. Such was the modern world, where conference calls, cell–phones and the Internet meant that a man on the road rarely had to venture into his boss’s office anymore if the work at hand did not require his immediate presence.

  Forking noodles into her mouth with one hand, Kathryn foraged with the other across the coffee table until she found Stephen’s cell–phone. She picked it up and tapped in his code to unlock the screen. Learning his lock–code had been one of her first acts of subterfuge after discovering his deception, a crime that she defended to herself by citing an eye for an eye mentality: Stephen started the lying first, so he had it coming. She had prided herself on not often using her secret knowledge, but now was the perfect moment.

  She scrolled down his received calls list and was both elated and somehow saddened when her fears were confirmed. There were no calls logged from the company he worked for. In fact he had not received a single call since late the previous night. On an impulse, she scrolled through Stephen’s out–going call list and instantly saw a number that she recognised.

  Kathryn returned the cell to its home screen and placed it carefully back on the coffee table, at the same angle and location as she had found it. Quietly, she put her plate down and crept through the hallway toward the front door where the apartment phone hung from its cradle. She could hear the hiss of water from the shower and Stephen splashing about inside the stall as she unhooked the phone and scrolled through its menu.

  As she suspected, there were no calls recorded as coming in for the past two days. Nothing had changed since the last time she had checked.

  Nobody had called Stephen.

  Kathryn crept back to her takeaway and sat watching trash television as she considered the new and important pieces of information. Stephen was lying, which was nothing new, but his demeanour was different. Something was putting him under strain and she figured that whatever it was it concerned weighty matters other than herself.

  In the past few months she had come to know Stephen far better than she had before she had unveiled his deception and lies. It seemed strange to her, even now, that the man she was not actually supposed to know was the man she now knew best. Stephen, the man she had met four years ago while working in a small diner in the city, who had asked if he could leave her his number so that she could decide whether to call or text him, was in fact a stranger to her. A facade. A figment of her imagination, like a phantom slipping from one dream to the next, hoped for but never actually materialising. The man that she now knew was a manipulator, a cheat, a self–serving bastard who calculated his every move, his every response, for all she knew his every breath in order to maintain a relationship that he probably didn’t even want, and all for reasons that she could not fathom.

  The only conclusion that she could draw from the whole sorry mess was that the other woman presented a better and brighter future for Stephen than Kathryn herself did, and that he was gradually working his way out of her life. The long absences, the deplorable lack of sexual activity, the disinterest in her life and her achievements.

  Simple, really, although tragic none the less.

  The man she knew would most likely seek to leave her and hit the road as soon as possible, perhaps on the excuse that if he drove through the night to the other side of the state he would avoid the worst of the rush–hour traffic. It would give him time to think about what had happened, maybe formulate a plan of action when he got there. He’d feel better in t
he morning, could turn a crisis into an opportunity once again. Except that the crisis never ended, and the only opportunities were those that he presumably took for himself, leaving her to struggle on alone.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Kathryn startled as she looked up to see Stephen staring down at her from the living room door. She realised that she had been stabbing pieces of chicken with unnecessary force, butchering them one after the other.

  ‘Sure,’ she replied brightly. ‘Was just figuring out how to pay the rent this month.’

  Stephen sighed. ‘Maybe I’ll ask for a raise.’

  He walked into the room and picked up his cell phone, slipped it into his pocket. He was dressed for work with his hair neat once again, clean shaven. The bastard looked like he’d just walked out of an aftershave advert.

  ‘You’re leaving again?’ Kathryn asked.

  Stephen nodded as he hunted for his car keys, which were on the window sill, but Kathryn decided not to tell him just yet.

  ‘It’s the only thing to do right now,’ he replied. ‘If I leave now I won’t have to worry about traffic in the city later, and it’ll give me time to clear my head. I’ll stay in a hotel on the company card, get a good night’s sleep and probably feel like a new man by tomorrow morning.’

  So will I, Kathryn thought but did not say. She stood and reached up to slip her arms around his neck. His cologne smelled expensive and seductive at the same time. It helped Kathryn maintain a smile as she embraced him, instead of tightening her grip and biting his fucking face off.

  ‘You’re never here,’ she purred. ‘Why not stay the night?’

  Stephen smiled, his hands resting in the small of her back. ‘I’d love to honey, but the sooner this is sorted the sooner we’ll be back on track, okay?’

  It wasn’t a request and she knew better than to argue. Besides, feigning disappointment was enough for her. The sooner he left, the sooner she could get on with more important things.

  ‘Okay,’ she sighed miserably and pulled away.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he promised as he found his car keys and swiped them up from the window sill.

  ‘I know,’ she replied. ‘Love you.’

  Stephen kissed her on the cheek, whirled and hurried out of the living room. Within moments he was gone, and she heard his car start up moments later and pull away into the cold darkness outside.

  Despite everything, her greatest regret was the fact that he had not asked her how her first day at her new job was going.

  ***

  10

  Great Falls International Airport was illuminated by a galaxy of lights that flickered against the turbulent grey sky as Detective Griffin drove into the parking lot outside the main terminal.

  ‘McKenzie’s on his way,’ Maietta said as she dropped her cell phone from her ear and shut it off. ‘Ventura’s organised us a room out back of the terminal, somewhere we can talk without being observed.’

  ‘Great,’ Griffin said as he climbed out of the car and pulled his collar up against the cold air. The sound of an airliner taking off roared through the air around them as they walked toward the terminal, heads down against the gusts of sleet. A bitter grey, icy slush made the asphalt slick beneath their feet as they walked. ‘We need his help to try to figure out what the hell’s going on with his wife and make some sense of this.’

  ‘Sheila McKenzie’s insurance company confirmed that she holds a policy for four million bucks, payable on her death,’ Maietta said as she leafed through her notes. ‘There’s motive there, at least.’

  ‘And she owns that gallery, right?’ Griffin asked.

  ‘Has the freehold,’ Maietta replied. ‘I figure it’s a half million or more of prime retail space.’

  Griffin frowned. ‘Even if the abductors got everything, including the McKenzie’s house, they wouldn’t get much past five million bucks. It doesn’t figure, unless the husband’s playing some kind of elaborate game here.’

  ‘Good time to find out,’ Maietta said. ‘Half the damned state’s on alert.’

  Because the abduction had occurred within the Great Falls city limits, the case had become a GFPD responsibility, but the FBI had immediately been notified of the incident and investigation. The popular TV drama notion of police departments and Federal agencies being at loggerheads over jurisdictional control of cases was a fallacy: upon notification of the abduction, virtually every agency had leaped at the chance to offer assistance.

  BOLOs, Be On the Look Out reports, had been sent state–wide and regionally by teletype. Border Patrol and Customs and Border Protection, CBP, for the Canadian Border had also been notified in case the abductors made a run north for Canada, just over a hundred miles away. A Missing and Endangered Persons Alert would be sent out and the Criminal Justice Information Network, National Crime Information Center and Rocky Mountain Information Network all utilized to disseminate info to law enforcement agencies. To add to that, Homeland Security had been informed and US Marshals Service were being kept apprised of the situation. Cascade County’s Sheriff’s Office and the Montana Highway Patrol had been issued with images of Sheila McKenzie, and although Great Falls no longer had an FBI Field Office, the Bureau was also discreetly sending out images of the victim across the country.

  In short, whoever was holding Sheila McKenzie against her will would find it almost impossible to move her about the country without somebody seeing something.

  ‘Tight as a mosquito’s ass,’ Griffin agreed with some satisfaction. ‘Now we gotta hope they’re not smart enough to just stay put with her. What about Talbot, Sheila McKenzie’s former boss?’

  ‘She’s alibied out,’ Maietta replied almost apologetically. ‘She’s in the damned Bahamas, multiple witnesses, and apparently couldn’t care less about McKenzie. I guess she’s made her money and is out of the game.’

  ‘So much for Saira’s story of her being out for McKenzie’s blood,’ Griffin muttered. ‘We got anybody else?’

  ‘Nobody,’ Maietta replied.

  They walked into the main terminal and, following directions relayed to Maietta by Ventura Air’s staff, found their way past the bustle of the terminal and out to a remote storage facility away from the public buildings. A member of Ventura’s staff with a solid alibi for the abduction met them and led them to what Griffin figured was some kind of staff room: Formica table stranded alone in the centre, one shelf with a battered old microwave, a water cooler and stacked mugs grimy with age.

  The door closed behind them and a silence enveloped the room as they waited.

  ‘How’s Angela?’ Maietta asked as she leaned against the wall, her arms folded defensively as though bracing herself for the response.

  Griffin shrugged. ‘She’s fine. Why?’

  ‘You haven’t mentioned her much lately, is all.’

  ‘Not much to mention.’

  ‘Are you guys okay?’

  ‘Are you my counsellor now?’

  Maietta shrugged and fell silent. Griffin sighed.

  ‘She’s a little up–tight, you know?’ he said finally.

  Maietta raised a dark, delicately curved eyebrow but said nothing. Griffin looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothin’.’

  ‘Crap, I know that look,’ Griffin said. ‘What, you think I’m to blame?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘Damn right it’s not,’ Griffin snapped. ‘Let’s just focus on the case, okay? Let Stone handle my head.’

  ‘How’s it going with her?’

  ‘It’s not, and that’s just the way I like it.’

  ‘She’s trying to help.’

  ‘She’s interfering and I don’t need help. I just need people to stop asking me damned questions about how I am all the time.’

  The sound of footsteps outside the door silenced them, and the door opened as Dale McKenzie walked in.

  Griffin placed a lot of faith in first appearances. McKenzie was tall, with dark hair
and a tan that suggested either mixed parentage or foreign origin. But what interested Griffin more was McKenzie’s mannerisms and state of mind: the man was an airline pilot, an occupation of great responsibility, but McKenzie’s uniform was somewhat hastily arranged as though he’d rushed to the meeting, and his hair was somewhat in disarray. His gaze was quick but nervous, as though caught off balance. All of this Griffin took in at a glance and put down to the extraordinary circumstances McKenzie had suddenly found himself in.

  ‘Mister McKenzie, thanks for seeing us. This is my partner, Detective Maietta.’

  McKenzie nodded at Maietta as the door was closed behind him, his gaze switching between the two detectives.

  ‘Have you found her yet?’

  ‘Nothing yet I’m afraid,’ Griffin admitted, noting that McKenzie’s first question and concern regarded his wife’s welfare. ‘But we’re already doing everything we can. Please take a seat, sir.’

  ‘What’s everything?’ McKenzie demanded as he sat down.

  Griffin sat down opposite McKenzie, Maietta staying where she was, leaning against the wall.

  ‘We’ve got a team of six officers working the case,’ Griffin assured the pilot. ‘I’m leading the investigation with my partner Maietta, who is talking to other law enforcement agencies.’

  McKenzie seemed satisfied with this, but he was wringing his hands.

  ‘Okay, let’s get started Mister McKenzie,’ Griffin said.

  ‘Dale.’

  ‘Dale, okay, good. Have you heard anything at all from Sheila’s abductors?’

  ‘Nothing,’ McKenzie replied. ‘I’ve had my cell with me at all times but there have been no calls at all.’

  ‘Okay, I want you to walk us through everything that happened this morning. Every little detail.’

  McKenzie sighed. ‘I already went through everything with the sergeant over the phone.’

  ‘Humour us,’ Griffin insisted. ‘The more sure we are that nothing’s been overlooked the quicker we can move forward with the investigation. Anything, even the tiniest detail, can change everything in the first forty–eight hours of an abduction.’