Authors: Alexa Grace
Jennifer pulled her car into Dr. Caine's driveway after he buzzed her in at the security gate. She stopped the car for a moment and looked at his home in awe. It was huge and she'd never seen a more beautiful home all lit up in the night like it was Christmas. She collected her purse, shoved the driving directions in her pocket then got out of her car and headed for the front door.
She'd barely removed her finger from the doorbell button when the doctor opened the door to welcome her. Obviously, he'd been waiting for her arrival. She walked past him into the foyer and scanned her surroundings. Directly in front of her was an elegant spiral staircase leading to the rooms upstairs. To her right was a living room with a white brick fireplace and built-in bookcases filled with classics.
"Your home is amazing," she said, clearly impressed. She looked at the doctor who was smiling now and reaching for her arm.
"Thank you, Jennifer. I'm very proud of my home. Why don't I give you a tour before we talk? I've done some new renovations in the lower level that I'm most excited to have you see."
If her father thought kicking him out of his office was going to stop him from looking for Jennifer, he was wrong.
After waiting in the parking lot for close to an hour, Paul finally spotted Sheriff Brennan heading toward his car in quite a hurry. Staying a couple of cars behind him, Paul followed him to the Brennan home where he'd been a guest many times. He scanned the area looking for Jennifer's car but it wasn't there.
It wasn't long before he saw Tim Brennan dragging a suitcase to a white Honda Accord, where he opened the trunk and threw it inside. He fired up the vehicle and headed down the road, eventually reaching Interstate 65 where he headed south. Paul followed, realizing the man was going to Bloomington. Had he talked to Jennifer? Did he know where she was? If her father did know Jennifer's location, Paul would know it soon, too.
Frankie was finishing a lettuce salad in the kitchen when Lane carried in both laptops. He put his down on one end of the small kitchen table and put hers down at the other. He went outside to check on the burgers on the grill, flipped them over before returning.
Too angry to talk, he clenched his jaw and turned on his laptop then read the email with the ATF report. Mandy Morris was shot with a .38 hollow point bullet with a Ruger, Taurus, or Smith & Wesson.
"Frankie, what kind of guns did you say were registered to either Dr. Caine or David Chambers?"
She wiped her hands on a dishcloth and came to the table to sit down in front of her laptop. "I don't remember, but I'll look it up."
Watching her open the laptop, Lane asked, "Is there anything you want to tell me, Frankie?"
"About what?"
He just glared at her as she looked at her screen and saw the email from David Chambers to Dr. Caine. He knew the exact moment when she realized that he now knew what she’d done. She blinked, her cheeks burned with color, and she cleared her throat.
"I can explain," she began.
"I'm all ears. I want to hear it, every last detail, especially the part about why I knew nothing about any of it."
"Give me a break, Lane. You had to know that I sometimes do things out of the box. Why do you think my private investigation company is doing so well? Sometimes you have to break the rules to get the job done."
"Have you forgotten you're a sworn deputy for this op?"
She didn't answer for a long moment, and then said, "I saw an opportunity to get some information we couldn't have gotten any other way and I went for it."
"Why don't you start your explanation from the beginning? Don't leave anything out." His face colored with anger.
Lane's cell phone rang and he whipped it out of his jeans pocket. He had only said a couple of words when he ended the call and grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter.
"We'll continue this conversation later. The sheriff wants to see us right away. He says it's an emergency."
"Why does he want us to drive all that way back home? Can't he do a conference call?"
"He's at the Courtyard Marriott on College Avenue. He's here."
Frankie knew as soon as they entered her uncle's hotel room that something was very wrong. His face was pale; his muscles looked tense and ready to snap. He also looked like he could drop from exhaustion any second. He motioned for them to sit at a small table in the room then sat down himself. He pressed both hands over his eyes as if they burned with weariness. She looked at the stack of papers on the table and noticed her cousin, Jennifer's photo.
"I need your help," he began. "Jennifer is missing and I need you to find her."
"Missing? What do you mean she's missing?" Frankie struggled to stay calm. Surely she had misheard him.
"Just what I said, she's missing and has been missing for maybe five days or so. Her bastard boyfriend told me earlier today and I didn't want to believe him. So I drove down here. I talked to her roommate and some of her friends. No one's seen her for weeks. "
"How could that happen? Hasn't she been calling home?" she asked wanting to put all the pieces together. She glanced at Lane who was staring at Jennifer's photo lying on the table with an odd look on his face. Surely, he'd seen Jennifer's photos in frames all over her uncle's office.
"We got a call from her every weekend. The last call was five days ago."
A knock at the door startled them. As her uncle moved to answer it, Frankie made a wish it was Jennifer she would see when he opened the door. Instead a tall young man with dark, unruly hair appeared. She recognized him as the man Jennifer often brought to family dinners.
"What in the hell are you doing here? Get out!"
"No, I'm not leaving." Paul Vance met Tim Brennan's glare head-on. "I've been following you all day. Did you find out anything?"
"I said, get out. Do you want me to throw you out?" he seethed with mounting anger.
"No, I'm not leaving. You need me. I know this campus and town much better than you do. I know where Jennifer goes and where she doesn't. I'm staying. I want to find her as much as you do. Let me help."
Frankie went to her uncle and squeezed his arm. "Uncle Tim, let him stay. Maybe he
can
help."
Tim was incredulous. "Help? Do you want to know how much he's helped so far? Jennifer is pregnant with his child. So what does he do when he finds out? He dumps her."
"That's not true. I didn't dump her. I said some things I wish I could take back, but I never stopped loving her. I need to find her as much as you do."
"Get out!"
Paul looked at Tim Brennan then Frankie, and backed toward the open door and into the hallway. "Please call me when you find her. Please."
Tim slammed the door then returned to the table where he sat down in the chair opposite Lane. Frankie watched him gulp the rest of his coffee. She knew how emotions could get in the way of an investigation. Her uncle had to calm down, because this was the most important investigation of their lives.
Jennifer awoke in a strange room. Her mind was fuzzy. She sat up and looked around. The walls of the room were covered by a royal blue foam material that looked like egg cartons. There was a small white sink and toilet in the corner. A white, wooden dresser with four drawers was on the other wall. Other than the twin bed where she sat, those were the only objects in the room. The only light came from a horizontal strip of small basement windows located near the top of the opposite wall.
She remembered now. She was with Dr. Caine. He'd offered a tour of his home but she had asked for a glass of water. He'd returned from the kitchen with a glass of ice water and when she drank it. She remembered an odd bitter taste but she was so thirsty she ignored it. He'd led her through the house and by the time they'd reached the lower level she'd felt so sleepy she could barely stand. That's when he'd helped her lie down on the twin bed and fled the room, slamming the door behind him.
She looked at the door. It looked thicker than the average bedroom door and had a glass peep hole which she thought was odd. She moved to the door to open it so she could find Dr. Caine, but it wouldn't budge. That's when the terrifying realization hit her. She was locked in.
Dr. Eric Caine pulled his sports car into his garage and pressed the button on his visor to move the garage door down to its closed position. He'd spent the morning making the rounds at the clinic. He yawned and thought a nap sounded like a good idea. It had been a long night — a productive one, but long just the same. He twisted his key in the locked door and entered his house.
He noticed the coffee pot was still on and realized Miriam must have cleaned earlier. He hoped she'd stayed out of the basement but then thought again. Even if she'd cleaned the basement, she wouldn't have heard a sound from Jennifer's room. He'd gone to a lot of trouble and expense to have it sound-proofed.
He poured a mug of black coffee, and then headed for his room upstairs to change clothes. In the hallway, he noticed a light on in his office. That idiot maid was always leaving lights on, even after he'd lectured her.
He entered the room. Startled, he nearly panicked and fled the room. David Chambers was sitting behind his desk.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"It was hard to stay away with no money," answered David.
The doctor glared at him and asked, "How did you get into my house? What are you doing in my office?"
"It was easy to get into your house, and you're damn lucky I chose to wait for you in your office."
"What are you talking about?"
David held up a gold lipstick case between his index finger and thumb. "Do you know what this is?"
"Yes, stupid, that's lipstick." The man was a moron, and the quicker he could get him out of his house the better.
David pulled off the top to reveal the flash drive beneath. "Oh, it's more than a lipstick, smart-guy. It's a flash drive that someone used to install surveillance on your computer."
Dr. Caine eased up closer to the desk to look at it. "What does that mean?"
"It means prior to my finding it, someone was reading every email you received, recording every website you visited, and possibly recording every keystroke. Someone went to a lot of trouble to record everything you do and have stored on this computer. Whoever did this have your passwords, screenshots, emails and anything else that might be on your hard drive."
"Oh my God," he gasped as he sat down in one of the leather chairs across the desk from David. "What am I going to do? Who did this?"