One Day Gone

by Luana Ehrlich

  “The Hilton, huh? You know Dad will have something to say about our taxpayer dollars being squandered on luxury hotels.”

  I laughed. “It was the first thing he said when I called him last night and told him I was in town.”

  “Are you here investigating one of our judges?”

  I shook my head. “No. Senator Allen’s daughter, Lizzie, didn’t show up at her apartment Monday night, so he sent me here to find her. She’s a junior at the university.”

  Curtis leaned forward. “Really? I didn’t hear anything about it on the news yesterday.”

  “If she doesn’t turn up soon, you’ll see it on the evening news tonight. A couple of hours ago, the senator filed a missing persons report, so I expect the media will have the story by midafternoon.”

  “What are you doing to find her?”

  “So far, all I’ve done is interview her roommate and do a walkthrough of her apartment.”

  “What about the police?”

  “When I leave here, I’m headed over to the police station to meet Lieutenant Aaron Lawrence. According to Dad, he’s the head of Criminal Investigations now.”

  He nodded. “Sam Tucker retired a few years ago.”

  “I’ve been designated Senator Allen’s liaison with the CPD, so I’m hoping the lieutenant will have some good news for me. Lizzie’s car is also missing, and I’m sure they’ve already put out a notice about it. That should get them some leads.”

  “Maybe she just took off for a couple of days.”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking. She could have headed to St. Louis for a shopping spree, or maybe she’s chasing down a story. She’s a journalism major, and according to her roommate, she goes a little overboard when she’s investigating something.”

  Curtis put his coffee mug down and gestured at me. “Is there anything we can do to help you find her? We have lots of volunteers here at North Point who’d be more than happy to start a search for her.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think it’s a little too soon for that.”

  “Well, don’t hesitate to ask if you think it would help.”

  “Speaking of your volunteers, I met one of them downstairs. She’s filling in for your receptionist today.”

  He smiled. “You must mean Whitney. She was a little nervous when I saw her this morning. She claims she’s never done any secretarial work before.”

  He reached over and picked up a picture frame on a side table near his chair.

  “She’s an excellent photographer, though. We had her take some pictures of the kids last winter, and she managed to capture each of their personalities in this one shot.”

  He handed me the photograph, which showed his oldest boy, who was fifteen, staring at the camera with his arms crossed; his daughter, who was thirteen, striking a model’s pose, and his youngest boy, who was ten, making bunny ears on his sister.

  “Yeah, that’s good,” I said, handing it back to him.

  “Whitney’s multi-talented. Not only is she a good photographer, she’s also an artist. She even designed some background sets for our church drama production last Easter.”

  I nodded. “She seems like a nice person; nice-looking too.”

  Curtis stared at me without saying anything.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

  “Was that a note of interest I heard in your voice? Are you finally getting over your breakup with Paige?”

  “I’m definitely over Paige. I don’t ever think about her anymore.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re moving on, and in case you’re interested, I happen to know Whitney’s unattached.”

  “I’m not—”

  “She had a serious boyfriend until a few months ago, but I know that’s over now. If you asked her to have dinner with you, I bet she’d say yes.”

  “I won’t be here long enough to have dinner with anyone, but thanks for playing matchmaker for me.”

  “You know Mom will insist on cooking for you while you’re here. You should at least stick around long enough for that.”

  “I’ve already told Dad I’m available for a family dinner.” I glanced down at my watch. “I better get going now. I don’t want Lieutenant Lawrence to call up the senator and ask him where I am.”

  When Curtis walked me over to the door, he put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Thanks for stopping by, Mylas. I’ll be praying for you as you look for Lizzie. I’ll be praying for her as well.”

  As soon as I got on the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor, I started debating with myself whether or not I should stop in at the front desk and say something to Whitney before I left.

  By the time the elevator arrived on the ground floor, I’d decided it would be the courteous thing to do.

  If nothing else, I was always courteous.

  * * * *

  When I stepped inside the reception area, Whitney was busy on the phone. It sounded like she was apologizing to the caller for not having whatever information they were requesting.

  When she saw me, she raised her index finger to let me know she’d be with me in a minute, and after nodding at her, I walked over to a table where some booklets were laid out so she wouldn’t think I was eavesdropping on her conversation.

  A sign on the table indicated everything was free, and since a couple of the titles caught my attention, I slipped them inside my coat pocket.

  “Was Curtis surprised?” Whitney asked as she hung up.

  “Oh, you bet. I had to pick him up off the floor.”

  She laughed. “You know, Mylas, if you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known you and Curtis were related. Except for your eyes, you don’t look anything alike.”

  “Our personalities are completely different too.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, yeah. We’re totally different.”

  “How so?”

  I glanced down at my watch. “I wish I had time to answer that, but I need to be somewhere in a few minutes. Would you be free for dinner tonight?”

  My question seemed to take her off guard for a moment, but after a short pause, she said, “Sure, I guess I can do dinner tonight. Shall I meet you somewhere?”

  “Why don’t I call you later? My schedule’s a little uncertain today.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  She reached inside her purse and pulled out her business card. “Here’s my number.”

  I stuck the card inside my pocket and said, “I promise I’ll give you a call this afternoon.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  As I was walking across the parking lot after leaving the building, I kept asking myself the same question over and over again.

  Why in the world did I do that? Why in the world did I do that?

  I didn’t have an answer by the time I got inside my vehicle.

  * * * *

  When I was growing up, I must have visited the headquarters of the Columbia Police Department at least a dozen times with my dad.

  Even though that was over twenty-five years ago, the building didn’t look all that different. It was a nondescript three-story concrete structure with a parking lot in the back for police vehicles.

  It was located on East Walnut Street between the Boone Funeral Home and the County Courthouse. My dad used to make a joke about the location, but as I pulled in the parking lot across the street from the building, I couldn’t remember the punchline.

  Dad and I had always entered the police station through the rear entrance on Cherry Street, but today, I entered the building through the main entrance on Walnut. The moment I walked inside the lobby, I noticed several changes had been made.

  Instead of a long open counter with a couple of policeman behind it, the area was now enclosed in bulletproof glass, and the officers seated at the desks were looking down at computer screens.

  I walked over and stood in front of the glass, and when an officer finally looked up, he asked if he could help m
e.

  His voice sounded tinny through the intercom system, and when I spoke to him through the metal grill embedded in the glass, I had a feeling my voice didn’t sound all that natural to him either.

  “I’d like to speak to Lieutenant Lawrence. My name’s Mylas Grey. I believe he’s expecting me.”

  “Could I see some ID, please?”

  “Sure,” I said, opening up my wallet and removing my driver’s license, along with my business card.

  Although I considered showing him my private investigator’s license, I thought better of it.

  I placed the items inside the metal transaction drawer, and when the officer pulled it through to his side and took a look at them, he picked up his phone and made a call.

  A few seconds later, after returning my driver’s license, he pointed to a door on my right and told me he’d buzz me in.

  Once inside, I had to wait a few minutes before he came around the corner and introduced himself as Officer Brennan. He said he’d be escorting me up to Lieutenant Lawrence’s office.

  In the elevator on the way up to the third floor, I asked Brennan if Connor Ross was around.

  “Yeah, he’s on duty today. How do you know Connor?”

  “I don’t know him personally. My dad told me to look him up and say hi when I came by the station today.”

  “Who’s your dad?”

  “Kelvin Grey.”

  “Oh, yeah, Kelvin, the private detective. Doesn’t he own that swanky building over on Chapel Hill Road in The Colonies?”

  “That’s him.”

  Officer Brennan pulled my business card out of his pocket and looked down at it for a second.

  “You’re an investigator like your old man, huh?”

  “Well, no, not exactly like my old man.”

  * * * *

  When we got off the elevator on the third floor, we entered a large well-lit room with six workstation cubicles.

  Although each of the beige-colored cubicles had the same features—an overhead cabinet, a desk, some file drawers—each of them looked a little different depending on the work habits and personalities of the men and women who occupied them.

  “This is our Criminal Investigations Division,” Officer Brennan said, as we walked past a couple of the cubicles.

  He pointed over to a far corner of the room. “That last cubicle over there by the window belongs to Connor Ross.”

  I glanced over there, but the office chair was empty.

  Brennan and I walked over to a door with a sign on it that said Lieutenant Aaron Lawrence. He rapped on it twice and then ushered me inside.

  The lieutenant was seated behind a gray metal desk, but he stood up and shook hands with me when Brennan introduced me and handed him my business card.

  Once Brennan left, Lawrence pointed to a guest chair and invited me to be seated. As I sat down, he put on a pair of glasses and took a look at my card.

  Lawrence was partially bald, a little overweight, and appeared to be in his late 40s. He was dressed in a white shirt, blue-striped tie, and a dark blue sports coat.

  “Well, Mr. Grey,” he said, removing his glasses, “my chief tells me you’ll be the senator’s proxy while we’re conducting our investigation into Lizzie Allen’s disappearance. I don’t know if you’re familiar—”

  “You can call me Mylas.”

  “Okay, sure.” He picked up some papers. When he handed them to me, he said, “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the way we conduct a missing persons investigation, but this printout should explain our procedure.”

  “I’m somewhat familiar with the protocols,” I said, glancing down at the papers, “but to be truthful, I keep hoping Lizzie just left town for a few days without telling anyone.”

  “That would be the best case scenario, but unfortunately, things don’t always work out that way.”

  “Are you saying you have some new information on her?”

  “No, nothing’s changed since Chief Cotton spoke with Senator Allen earlier this morning.”

  He gestured at the papers I was holding. “Let me give you the highlights of our missing person protocols just to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

  I wasn’t too surprised Lawrence wanted to go over the investigative guidelines with me. He’d probably never had a high-profile case before, especially one involving a U.S. Senator, and he wanted to be sure he was dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s.

  Besides that, if his tight shoulders were any indication, he was a little intimidated about the whole thing.

  He said, “In the case of any missing person, the first step is to determine the person’s status, and in Lizzie’s case, we’ve listed her status as a high-risk missing adult. She falls under this category due to her father’s profession and the possibility she’s been abducted.”

  “I assure you the senator hasn’t received any threats against him or any of his children within the last six months.”

  “I understand, and the evidence doesn’t indicate foul play, but we can’t rule that out. By classifying her as high-risk, we’ll be able to enter her data on all the nationwide law enforcement databases.”

  “Okay, that’s a valid point.”

  Lawrence seemed to relax a little after I affirmed his decision, and as he highlighted the other protocols—interviewing friends, doing a search of the area, monitoring her credit cards and cell phone—I continued to voice my support of what he was doing.

  When he was finished, I took it a step further.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, Lieutenant, I conduct investigations into the backgrounds of judicial nominees for the senator, but that doesn’t mean I’m that knowledgeable about how to conduct a missing persons investigation.”

  He nodded. “Unless you have a background in law enforcement, I’m sure that’s true.”

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that despite what the senator may have told your chief, I’ll be relying on you and your detectives to find Lizzie. Of course, I’ll need to be updated about your progress, but rest assured, I won’t be interfering in your investigation.”

  He smiled a little. “I admit my chief made it sound like Senator Allen expected you to be conducting the investigation yourself.”

  “No, I’m strictly here to help you and your detectives. If I come across any new information about Lizzie, I’ll share it with the detectives in charge, and then I’ll let them take it from there.”

  “I’ve assigned Detectives Connor Ross and Trent Springer to Lizzie’s case, so you should be hearing from them soon. They’re over at Lizzie’s apartment now interviewing her roommate.”

  “I was over there last night and spoke with Savannah.”

  “Is that right? Well, thanks for letting me know.”

  I was counting on Lawrence viewing my disclosure as evidence I was simply the senator’s representative, and I wasn’t in Columbia to conduct my own investigation.

  I suppose if I’d gone ahead and mentioned I’d found Lizzie’s doodles in her trash can, he would have been even more assured of this, but I didn’t bring it up.

  If Savannah happened to bring it up, I’d just have to deal with it.

  “I know your father Kelvin pretty well, and I’m also friends with your brother Curtis. In fact, our family attends his church at North Point. Are you staying with him while you’re in town?”

  “No. I’m at the Broadway Hilton. If you can’t get me on my cell phone, you can leave a message there.”

  He looked a little surprised. “Oh, the Broadway Hilton. Okay then, I’ll make a note of that.”

  After he scribbled the information down on a yellow pad, he said, “I believe we’ve covered just about everything, Mylas. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “None that I can think of right now.”

  I got up and shook the lieutenant’s hand.

  As I started to leave, I turned around and said, “I’m sure you’re aware when the media learns about Lizzie’s disappearance,
you may have to hold a press conference.”

  “We’re prepared for that, but thanks for the warning. And thanks for letting us handle the investigation.”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  As soon as I got on the elevator, I pulled out my cell phone and looked up my contact information on Gus Montgomery.

  Since the lieutenant had said Detectives Ross and Springer were occupied with Savannah at the moment, I figured now would be the perfect time to pay Gus a visit.

  I wasn’t exactly lying to Lieutenant Lawrence when I said I wouldn’t be interfering in his investigation.

  I wasn’t exactly telling the truth either.

  Chapter 10

  Montgomery Auto Service was on North College Avenue just off the business loop. It was a great location, and when I drove past it the first time, I was surprised at how nice the place looked.

  For some reason, I was expecting to see a two-bay garage with a bunch of rusted-out vehicles parked out front.

  However, Gus’s place was a four-bay garage with a nice gray exterior, accented by a red awning over the front door.

  Although there were vehicles parked on the side, they were all newer cars.

  When I walked in the front door, an African-American man behind the counter greeted me with a smile. The name badge on his shirt indicated his name was Arnie.

  He was wearing a red and gray polo shirt with the service center’s logo embroidered on the left side. The logo was the letter M inside a red sports car, and the M was drawn in such a way there appeared to be two people sitting inside the car.

  “How can I help you, sir?” he asked.

  “Hi, Arnie. I’d like to speak with Gus for a minute.”

  “Maybe I can help you. Does your car need servicing?”

  “My car’s fine. This is about Lizzie Allen.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding his head, “are you with the police?”

  “No, I work for Senator Allen. My name’s Mylas Grey.”

  After I gave him one of my business cards, I asked, “What made you think I was with the police?”

  “Gus told me Lizzie’s missing, and if she didn’t turn up soon, the police would show up here and start asking questions.”