Job security for the clerk, right?
“Girls, you cannot walk away from me,” he said.
Ava hugged her costume. Mia danced in a circle with the unicorn. Both nodded and looked appropriately apologetic—for about two seconds.
The girls were usually well behaved. What had gotten into them?
Gianna’s voice echoed in his head. Halloween.
“Where is Sophie?”
Ava pointed. “Right there.”
She was only about six feet away, but her little body was half-hidden by an adult-size cardboard cutout of a zombie. She extended a hand toward a display of rubber zombie masks. They were gory and bloody and completely inappropriate for a four-year-old. If she wore one of those to school, every kid in her class would have nightmares for a week.
Lance felt a tug on his pants. Mia had wrapped one arm around his thigh. She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.
He crouched down to her level. “What is it, Mia?”
She pointed at the zombie mask and whispered in his ear, “That’s scary.”
“It’s all right.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s just a mask.”
Mia leaned into him, sniffed, and wiped her nose on the unicorn. He was definitely buying that costume now.
He turned to Ava. “You two stand right here. We found your costumes. Now it’s Sophie’s turn.”
“OK.” They nodded. Mia moved to stand next to her sister.
Lance turned back to Sophie. The way her eyes glowed with excitement reminded Lance of Drew Barrymore in Firestarter.
Or that kid from The Omen.
Lance walked forward to stand next to her. “That costume isn’t for a kid, Soph.”
She didn’t say a word, but her expression was all So what?
What is she going to be like as a teenager? Lance shuddered.
Wisely, Sophie chose bargaining over confrontation. “Ava and Mia got to pick the costumes they wanted.”
“Yes, but they picked from the kids’ section. These are adult costumes.” Lance stared at the mask. There was something about it that nagged at him. He tore his gaze away. “How about we look at the rest of the kids’ costumes, OK?”
Sophie tilted her head, as if she was contemplating how far she could push him on the issue. She was a cagey little thing, and he admitted, he was usually a pushover. She glanced back at Mia, who was wiping her eyes. “OK.” Sophie turned away from the zombies, slumped her shoulders, and dragged her rain boots on the floor.
Lance took her by the hand. They turned back to the kids’ section and strolled up the aisle. Mia and Ava fell into step beside them.
He spotted a display of puppy and kitten costumes. “How about this kitten? You like kittens. Isn’t this Marie from The Aristocats?”
“I don’t want to be a kitten.” Sophie shook her head hard enough to sway her pigtails.
“You spent most of last year dressed as a kitten,” Lance reasoned.
“I’m four now,” Sophie said. “I want a scary costume.”
Mia’s lip quivered.
“Let’s keep looking.” Lance scanned the walls. He spotted a zombie princess across the aisle. Ragged purple dress, greenish-white makeup, no splashes of blood. He pulled it down from the hook. “How about a zombie princess?”
Sophie deflated with exaggerated disappointment. “There’s no blood.”
Exactly.
“It’s still scary,” Lance said. There was no way he was buying Sophie a Halloween costume that made Mia cry and would terrify half the kids in her preschool class. Morgan would kill him.
“I could get two costumes,” Sophie offered. “One for school and one for trick-or-treating.”
He steeled his gaze. “One costume.”
Sophie scuffed a yellow boot on the waxed floor.
Lance spotted a vampire makeup kit. “But we could buy some red makeup and draw a little blood on your face. But not for school, all right? Just for trick-or-treating. We don’t want to scare your classmates.”
She gave him a deadpan look that suggested that’s exactly what she’d wanted to do.
Lance met her gaze head-on.
“OK.” Her sigh was long-suffering.
“So we’re done.” Lance plucked the makeup kit from its peg, hung the costume over his arm, and steered the girls toward the front of the store. The wall of adult masks caught his attention again as they walked past. They were made of rubber and were meant to be worn over someone’s whole head. There were witches, skeletons, and horror-movie characters. His gaze lingered on the zombie mask Sophie had wanted. It was flesh colored, with open wounds and sunken eyes.
It reminded him of something.
The girls were at the head of the aisle.
With no time to study the mask, he grabbed one and hid it under Sophie’s costume. He hurried to catch up with the children. At the checkout counter, he distracted them with lollipops, pretending not to hear Ava whisper to Mia, “Mommy never lets us get the candy.”
He purchased the adult mask without them noticing and quietly asked the clerk to put it in a separate bag that he tucked under his arm as they navigated the parking lot.
Back in the van, Lance hid the bag under the passenger seat. Then he buckled the girls into their car seats and drove home. Once inside the house, the girls stampeded to their rooms to put on their costumes. Lance returned to the van for the mask. He took it to the bedroom and shut the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled the mask from the bag and stretched the material between his fingers. It had plenty of give, but it could be ripped.
More important, the mask was the same texture, color, and thickness as the piece of rubber they’d found in Olivia’s bedroom.
Chapter Ten
Morgan drove Sharp’s Prius south on the interstate slowly enough to elicit three horn honks and two middle fingers from passing vehicles.
Sharp responded to the gestures in kind. “Those drivers are assholes. They can get around you.”
Morgan ignored them.
Sharp stared out the window, his gaze searching the roadside. Morgan slowed even more as they approached a bridge, and Sharp craned his neck to get a view of the sloping riverbank. But his tight-lipped expression told Morgan there were no breaks in the guardrail or tire tracks in the soft earth to indicate a car had driven off the road. Morgan glanced at the dark water as they crossed the river. Could her car have gone off a different road?
Leaving the bridge behind, Morgan brought the Prius back up to the minimum speed. “Does Olivia always take the same route to her parents’ house?”
“Unless there’s an accident or other major traffic delay,” Sharp answered without taking his eyes off the roadside. “I checked. There were no traffic issues this morning.”
“Is there anywhere else she would have stopped along the way? A reason she might have left the interstate?”
“I don’t know.” The sigh that eased from Sharp’s chest made her heart hurt. “But I also don’t know why she would have left her house at two in the morning. I don’t know why I’m even looking for her car. I doubt she was headed to her parents’ house at that hour. What was she doing?”
“It does seem strange. Maybe surveillance?”
“Maybe. But of whom?” Sharp’s voice was heavy with frustration. He motioned toward the windshield. “Take this exit.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the road in darkness. Morgan wished she had words of comfort, but Sharp’s head was no doubt full of every violent crime he’d investigated over the past thirty years. As was hers. In their professions, they had both seen the worst humanity had to offer. Neither one of them could be fooled into a blissfully ignorant but false sense of security.
Morgan turned Sharp’s car into a development. Olivia’s parents lived in a senior community of one-story cookie-cutter homes.
“That’s the house.” Sharp pointed to a tiny white house with red shutters. Light glowed
from the windows. A blue minivan was parked at the curb.
Morgan parked the Prius behind the van, and they got out of the car.
Sharp stood on the sidewalk for a minute. “I don’t know what to say to them.”
A curtain moved in the window. Someone had been watching for them.
Morgan took his arm and steered him up the cracked concrete walk. “It’ll come to you.”
“I’ve talked to families before, but this is different,” Sharp said. “I know these people.”
The door opened before they reached the stoop. A short woman with a head of dyed-brown curls stood in the opening. Morgan assumed she was Olivia’s mother. Her eyes were dark and worried. Morgan and Sharp continued up the steps.
“You have not found Olivia,” Mrs. Cruz said in a flat voice.
Sharp shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m s—” He began to apologize, but his words were cut off by the woman’s embrace.
She held him tightly, as if she knew he needed as much comfort as she did. She released him and patted his arm. “You will find her. I know you will.”
When Sharp stepped back, his eyes were wet. “This is my partner’s fiancée, Morgan Dane. She and Lance have offered to help.”
Morgan and Sharp followed Mrs. Cruz into the foyer. Then it was Morgan’s turn to be hugged. For a small woman, Olivia’s mother had strong arms.
Releasing Morgan, Mrs. Cruz held her at arm’s length. “Thank you. Olivia has spoken of you often. She thinks you’re a brilliant lawyer.”
“We’ll do everything we can to find her,” Morgan said.
“I know.” Mrs. Cruz led them down a short hallway. The kitchen was small but modern. Two people sat at the table. Mrs. Cruz introduced her husband and Olivia’s sister, Valerie. The family’s anxiety was as palpable as the scent of coffee.
“Let me get you some coffee.” Without waiting for their responses, Valerie bustled around her mother’s kitchen, using the movement to expel some of her anxiety.
“A reporter called a few minutes ago. How did he find out about Olivia?” Valerie asked.
“I don’t know.” But Morgan should have expected the news to get out. Stella might keep her end of the investigation under wraps, but every department had leaks. “What did you tell him?”
“My mother answered the phone.” Valerie’s eyes softened as she looked at her mother.
“He was rude, and I hung up,” Mrs. Cruz added.
Morgan preferred she be the spokesperson for the family. The press could be a useful tool, but they had to be managed, especially this early in a case. Stories generated false leads that used up valuable investigation time.
“You will probably get more calls from reporters,” Morgan said. “Next time, if you don’t want to talk to the press, you can refer them to me. I can handle them for you. Or we can set up a formal press conference to make a public request for help.”
Mrs. Cruz looked from Morgan to Valerie and back. “What do you think we should do?”
“Let me think about it,” Morgan said. “Have you received any phone calls or messages about Olivia?”
“No.” Valerie shook her head. “I also checked my parents’ email as well as their physical mailbox.”
So no ransom demand.
Morgan glanced at Sharp, who stood silently, his eyes bleak, as if he had no words.
She continued, “What time did Olivia leave here last night?”
“About nine.” Valerie took cups out of a cabinet.
“She texted me around ten o’clock, when she arrived at home.” Mrs. Cruz sat next to her husband. “I know it’s silly. Olivia is a grown woman, but when she leaves my house, I can’t sleep until I know she’s home safe.” Her husband took her hand, and their fingers intertwined.
“It’s not silly at all.” Morgan couldn’t imagine one of her daughters vanishing, no matter how old they were. The mere thought was enough to generate a rush of anxiety. She sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Cruz. “Mothers are allowed to worry.”
Sharp eased into the seat next to Morgan.
“Olivia indulges me.” Mrs. Cruz pushed a notepad toward Sharp. “We made a list of Olivia’s friends.”
Sharp seemed frozen, so Morgan read the short list. She picked up a pen from the center of the table. “Can you tell me how Olivia knows each of these people?”
“Olivia doesn’t have many real friends. She works too much. But these are the people she talks about.” Mrs. Cruz tapped on each name. “This is her best friend from college. They haven’t seen each other for a while, but they talk on the phone now and then. Olivia has known this woman since high school, but I don’t know when they spoke last.” She continued down the brief list of names.
“How about professional contacts?” Morgan asked.
Valerie brought two cups of coffee to the table. “I don’t know. Years ago, when she worked for a newspaper, she had reporter friends. But the industry changed. Before she wrote the book, she’d been freelancing for years. I haven’t heard her talk about seeing other journalists in a long time. Jake Riley is her editor, and Kim Holgersen is her literary agent. I don’t know their phone numbers.”
“That information will be easy enough to get,” Morgan assured her and wrote both names in her notepad. “How about boyfriends? Does she have any jealous or violent exes?”
“No. Before she met Lincoln, she hadn’t dated in some time.” Valerie stood next to her father and smiled sadly at Sharp. “She talks about you a great deal. You’re the first man she’s brought home in a decade.”
Morgan’s eyes grew moist. A muscle near Sharp’s eye twitched.
He wrapped his hands around the mug without drinking. “Does she have any medical conditions?”
Mrs. Cruz nodded. “She had asthma as a child, but now it rarely bothers her except for an occasional flare-up in the winter, when the air is cold and dry.”
Which explained why Sharp didn’t know about it. He’d met Olivia last spring.
He cleared his throat. “Has Olivia talked to any of you about being followed or mentioned anyone she was concerned about in her neighborhood?”
Heads shook all around.
“What about her work?” Morgan asked. “Was she excited about anything in particular?”
Her sister frowned. “Last night, she said she had an important decision to make. She seemed conflicted, but she didn’t elaborate.”
Was this decision the reason Olivia had wanted to talk to Sharp, Lance, and Morgan? Was it also the reason she was missing?
Valerie twisted her wedding ring. “We talked about me most of the time. My husband and I recently separated. The kids are having issues. I’m afraid I monopolized the dinner conversation.” Her eyes welled with tears.
Mrs. Cruz passed the tissues and patted her daughter’s hand. “It’s not your fault. Olivia was happy to listen. That’s what sisters are for.”
Valerie wiped her eyes. “She always does more listening than talking. That’s what makes her a great journalist.”
“She didn’t say anything about meeting someone last night?” Sharp asked.
“No,” Valerie said.
Mr. and Mrs. Cruz shook their heads.
“She doesn’t talk to us about her work.” Mrs. Cruz pressed a knuckle to her mouth. “We worry too much.” A small sob shook her. “But she’s always dealing with the wrong sorts of people. She even went to a prison to do interviews.” She bowed her head and crossed herself.
Olivia interviewed criminals, which was inherently dangerous, as Morgan knew well.
“If you want to know more about her research, you should talk to her agent,” Valerie said quietly. “Olivia talks to her a lot.”
Morgan and Sharp continued to question Olivia’s sister and parents about her interests and any upcoming activities she might have mentioned, but Valerie’s impending divorce seemed to have dominated family discussions for the past month.
Morgan checked her notes. “Do you know who has a key to Olivia’s house?”
“We both have keys.” Mrs. Cruz gestured between herself and Valerie.
“No one else?” Sharp asked.
Mrs. Cruz turned up both hands. “I don’t know.”
“Has Olivia ever spoken of being threatened by a subject of one of her investigations?” Morgan asked.
Shaking her head, Mrs. Cruz burst into tears. Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They bowed their heads toward each other, their foreheads touching. Morgan felt as if she was intruding on a private moment. Their shared fear was both painful and beautiful to witness.
Sharp looked away, his expression shuttered, and then he stood. “We should be going,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“We’ll touch base in the morning.” Morgan put a hand on Mrs. Cruz’s shoulder.
Mrs. Cruz put her own hand on top of Morgan’s and squeezed. Her eyes shifted to Sharp, then back to Morgan. “Thank you both. We would not know what to do without your help.”
Valerie walked them to the front door and followed them onto the stoop, closing the door behind her. “My parents are strong, but they’re not young. I don’t know how they’ll cope if—” A sob cut off her words. She covered her face with a hand. Her next breath hitched. Then she sniffed and took a deep breath, exhaling hard as she collected herself. Her hand dropped in a balled fist to her chest. “If you have bad news, promise me you’ll call me first, so I can be here with them when you tell them?”
Sharp nodded, his mouth a grim, flat line. “We will.”
Valerie gave them her home and cell phone numbers.
Morgan sent her a text. “Now you have my number. Call if you remember anything that might help us locate Olivia.”
Sharp and Morgan headed for the sidewalk. The air had cooled since night had fallen. Morgan tugged her suit jacket around her.
“I’ll drive.” Sharp headed for the driver’s side. “It’s too dark to see the roadside, and the focus will help me think.”
Save Your Breath Page 7