Authors: Alexa Grace
Sheriff Brennan ended the call with, "We need an arrest and fucking soon. Do you both understand me?"
Jennifer was bored. There was only so much cleaning she could do in such a tiny apartment. Nothing on the television was even remotely interesting and she'd finished all her online course assignments. It was turning out to be the longest day ever.
She decided to make tuna salad for her dinner and removed a couple of cans of tuna from a cabinet and two boiled eggs, an onion, sweet pickles, and mayo from the refrigerator. She was chopping the onion when she looked across the room and saw the local paper on an end table. She'd forgotten she'd retrieved it earlier from the front porch. She'd read it while she ate her sandwich.
She spread the salad on two slices of whole wheat bread then set the plate on the bar beside her glass of milk. She grabbed the newspaper and set it next to her food. She'd finished page one and her sandwich, when her cell phone rang. She reached across the bar for her purse and withdrew her cell.
"Jennifer, this is Dr. Caine. I apologize for disturbing you this evening."
"That's ok. Have you learned anything about Ally Black or David Chambers?"
"Actually, that's why I called. I need to talk to you right away about David Chambers before I go to the police."
"What did you find out?" Her heart skipped a beat. If Dr. Caine was going to the police, he must've discovered David Chambers did something bad to Ally.
"I can't talk over the phone. I need to see you in person at my house tonight."
"Your house? You want me to come to your home?"
"I'm so sorry to ask it, but I'm in the middle of a very important meeting with two adoptive parents. The meeting should end by 8:00 p.m. Can you be here by then?"
A moment of silence passed as Jennifer thought it over. She wasn’t comfortable going to his house. But if he had information that would lead to Ally, what choice did she have?
"Hold on for a second so I can get a pen and paper to write down the directions." She slipped an ink pen out of her purse and ripped a section of newspaper to write on. "Go ahead."
The next morning, Paul Vance combed his fingers through his dark hair and thought about taking off his jacket but adjusted his tie instead. It felt like it was ninety degrees in the room. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Paul was so nervous, he gritted his teeth like he used to when he was a kid in trouble with his mom.
The situation couldn't be more intimidating, especially when his girl's dad was a powerful county sheriff. Here he was sweating it out in the reception area outside the sheriff's office. What if Tim Brennan refused to see him? What if Jennifer had already told him about the pregnancy? What if he was angry? Paul decided he didn't care. He just needed to talk to her. If that meant bearing the wrath of her father, then so be it.
He walked up to the receptionist's desk again.
"Listen, it's been an hour. When will Sheriff Brennan be free to meet with me?" Christ, if he had to spend another hour in this sauna he may have a heat stroke.
"Honey, I told you last time you asked. Sheriff Brennan is on an important conference call."
"Did you tell him my name? Did you tell him Paul Vance was waiting to see him and that I have something important to discuss with him about his daughter?"
"Yes, I did. But if you want me to, I'll slip a note to him to tell him you're still here."
"Yes, please do that."
As he placed the telephone receiver in its cradle, Sheriff Tim Brennan looked up to see his receptionist slide a small white piece of paper across his desk then leave. He read the name Paul Vance and smiled. There was only one reason why his daughter's boyfriend would be here to see him. He was going to ask him for Jennifer's hand in marriage. He was sure of it. It was an old fashioned, traditional thing to do, but he was impressed that the kid would show him this kind of respect. It wasn't that he didn't expect Paul Vance to propose to his daughter. Paul and Jennifer had been together for two years. It was obvious they were crazy in love. He and his wife, just the other night over dinner, had discussed how right they were for each other.
He glanced at his favorite photo of Jennifer on his desk. It was taken the day he'd taught her to drive. She had been sixteen years old and still wearing braces on her teeth. His eyes filled with tears for a second. Where did time go? It seemed like only yesterday, Jennifer was his little girl. Now there was a man in the next room who wanted to marry her. He dialed his receptionist's number.
"Send him in."
Tim met Paul at the door and shook his hand enthusiastically.
"Good to see you, Paul. Have a seat." He motioned for Paul to sit down then he returned to his chair behind his desk.
"Thanks for seeing me, sir," he began. "I know you're a busy man."
"I always have time for you. What's on your mind, son?" A smile threatened to appear at the corners of Tim’s mouth.
"I need to see Jennifer."
"What do you mean you need to see Jennifer? I'm confused. You attend the same college with her. Aren't you two still in a relationship?" Tim’s investigative antenna went on alert.
"I need to talk to her, sir. If she's here and she's told you she doesn't want to see me, I understand. But I'm not leaving this town until I see her."
"Why do you think Jennifer is here?"
"She has to be here. I've looked for her everywhere. I went to her dorm last night. Her roommate hasn't seen her in weeks. Her closet is empty too." Paul paused and wiped the sweat beading on his brow again. "Christ, I know I fucked up big time. When she told me, I was so shocked I couldn't think. She's got to forgive me for what I said. We can work this out."
"Told you what? Work what out? What did Jennifer tell you?"
"That she's pregnant."
Tim lost it. He rounded his desk knocking files and books from that end onto the floor. He jerked Paul out of his chair, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. He had never experienced such fear and anger. It was combustible mix.
"You son-of-a-bitch. Jennifer is pregnant?!"
"Yes, sir," Paul managed to say.
"What did you do when she told you? Just how did you fuck up?"
"Oh, God. I can't believe what I said to her. Please let me talk to her. I love her more than my life. Please."
Then it hit Tim. Paul said he and the roommate hadn't seen Jennifer for weeks. That made no sense. She lived on campus and so did Paul. She called home every weekend. He loosened his grip on Paul's neck, pulled back, and stared at him. Yes, she called every weekend. Jennifer's pregnant? If that was true, why hadn't she told her mom and dad? He’d talked to her last Saturday. The call came as he and his wife was sitting down for dinner.
"Jennifer isn't here. We haven't seen her in months. She told us she couldn't come home because she was so busy with her classes. But she calls home every weekend."
"I'm telling you, she's gone. Her roommate hasn't seen her in weeks. Her closet is empty. If she's not here then where is she?"
Tim already had his cell phone out, punching Jennifer's number. He listened until finally her voice mail sounded. "Jennifer, this is Dad. Honey, I need for you to call me right away. It's urgent."
Outside on the patio, Lane was turning burgers on the grill when his cell phone rang. He put down the spatula, held the cell phone to his ear, and while listening to the caller went inside. In the kitchen, he disconnected the call.
"Frankie, that was ATF. They've emailed the ballistics report for Mandy Morris. I'm going upstairs for my laptop."
He was already bounding up the stairs, when Frankie called out, "Hey, bring my laptop downstairs with you too. It's on my bed."
Lane retrieved his laptop from his bedroom then he went to Frankie's room where her laptop was open on her bed. He was reaching for it when he heard a ding and an email sprang to life on her screen. He reached out to close the laptop so he could carry it, but a name on the email caught his attention — Dr. Eric Caine. Why was Dr. Caine sending emails to Frankie? Why hadn't she mentioned it? They'd just had a briefing with the sheriff and she hadn't said a word about receiving emails from him.
He took a closer look at the email message. It was from David Chambers to Dr. Caine.
Send me money NOW or you'll regret it.
He read the message again. Then he closed the email and reviewed the received list of emails in the account. Each one was sent to Dr. Eric Caine. A click of the mouse took him to the sent folder where he reviewed a list of emails sent
by
Dr. Caine. He couldn't believe it. Frankie had installed some kind of surveillance on the doctor's computer without telling him. They didn't have a warrant to do this. Furious, he slammed the screen down and carried both laptops to the kitchen where Frankie stood slicing tomatoes.
Tim Brennan had lied to his wife, Megan, and that was something he never did. There were things he didn't tell her, like some of the horrors he'd witnessed as a cop. But he'd never lied to her. He loved her too much.
Megan had walked in their bedroom as he was packing his clothes. He told her he had some emergency police business, he'd be out of town for a few days, and that he'd call her soon. They'd been married for thirty years, so she was used to calls in the middle of the night that took him to crime scenes he'd never tell her about. So, his leaving suddenly for police business was no big deal to her.
He hated the lie, but he told it to protect her. She'd had a heart attack the year before and telling her that their only child was missing might be something her heart couldn't withstand. At any rate, one part of him still had hope this was nothing to worry about and that he'd find Jennifer in Bloomington. When he did, she'd be in the front seat of his car heading for home.
The other part of him, the cop part, knew that time and again when they didn't find the missing person within forty-eight hours, it was likely the person was dead. Jennifer had been missing for weeks from Paul and her college friends. But he had just talked to her five days before. He shook his head in disbelief. She couldn't be dead. That was not an option.
He changed from his sheriff uniform to a gray suit, white starched shirt and navy tie. He didn't want to call attention to himself as he conducted his own search for his daughter.
He heard Megan rattling around in the kitchen. He pulled his suitcase through the hallway into the living room where the photo he'd taken of Jennifer last Christmas was in a frame on the fireplace mantel. It was the most recent picture he had of her. He shoved it, frame and all, under his jacket and headed for his car.