Vanished (Private Justice Book #1): A Novel Read online

  “Nice try, buddy.” She rolled her eyes at him and set a file folder on Cal’s desk. “At least some people appreciate my more advanced skills.”

  “Hey, I appreciate them.”

  “Right.” She perused the remains of Cal’s high-carb lunch with a disapproving sniff but confined her comment to three words. “It’s your heart.” Then she slid the folder toward him. “Your new client is clean as a whistle, based on a preliminary background check, but I did find one thing of note.”

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair beside Dev and rubbed the incriminating salt and grease off his fingers with the napkin.

  She sat and crossed her legs.

  Dev gave her toenails a slow perusal. “Nice polish. Does it glow in the dark?”

  “Ha-ha. And for your information, Steve likes it.”

  “Speaking of the new groom—how is he adjusting to married life?”

  She gave him a smug smile. “Ask him sometime.”

  “I think I’ll wait until the honeymoon glow wears off.” He settled back in his chair.

  She folded her arms. “You know . . . it’s a lucky thing I’m not the sensitive type.”

  “You wouldn’t last a day around here if you were.” Cal grinned at her.

  “Too true.” She shook her head. “You guys all need to find a good woman and settle down. That would mellow you out—and maybe teach you to keep your offices clean.” She shot a pointed look toward Dev, which he ignored.

  But she was right, Cal conceded. A good woman could have a profound effect on a man’s life.

  Tamping down that melancholy thought, he opened the file folder. “Let’s see what you found.” He examined the data Nikki had compiled. All the blanks on the background sheet had been filled in, including Moira Harrison’s age. Thirty-three. Two years younger than him. Nikki had also clipped several printouts to the back of it. “Nice work. Fast too.”

  “I try. I printed out a few of her articles from the Springfield News-Leader and attached them. She’s a real crusader. Take a look at the first sheet behind the questionnaire.”

  Cal flipped over the form. It was an article dated a year ago, not by Moira but about her. His eyebrows rose at the headline.

  NEWS-LEADER REPORTER NOMINATED FOR PULITZER PRIZE

  He scanned the article. She’d been nominated in the Investigative Reporting category for a series that exposed two city council members for taking bribes, shaking down companies for political contributions, and creating ghost jobs for friends, family, and political cronies. Both had been indicted and were awaiting trial.

  No wonder she’d gotten an offer from a bigger paper.

  He turned the clipping around for Dev to see.

  His partner gave a soft whistle. “The lady’s no slouch, that’s for sure. And that lends a bit more weight to her story.”

  No kidding.

  “This is very helpful, Nikki. Thanks.” Cal set the clipped papers on his desk.

  “Well, back to the salt mines.” Dev stood and gestured for Nikki to precede him. “Will you work on my files if I say pretty please?”

  “I might be able to squeeze it in later this afternoon.”

  “I’ll throw in a latte from Starbucks tomorrow.”

  “Sold. And make it soy, no whip.”

  As the two of them disappeared down the hall, Cal leaned back in his chair, rested his elbows on the arms, and steepled his fingers.

  A Pulitzer prize–nominated investigative reporter had serious credibility. If Moira Harrison said she’d seen a person—or two—on the road Friday night, he was more inclined than ever to believe her. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her glasses.

  But believing her wasn’t enough to get to the bottom of this mystery. And unless he came up with more than he had now, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to help her.

  Much as he wanted to.

  “Sorry. I burned the pork chops and had to start over. Thank goodness I married a patient man.”

  As Linda huffed out her apology, Moira shifted sideways on the bench to watch her friend approach. Some things never changed. Linda had been perennially late in J-school too. But she always showed five or ten minutes after the appointed time for their twice-a-week walk. Moira gave her watch a discreet glance as she rose. Today it was five.

  “No problem. Who could complain about waiting in a place like this?” She gestured to the ducks on the lake and the bed of tulips in front of the pavilion. “Thanks for telling me about it.”

  “Tilles Park is a gem.” Linda did a sweep of the picturesque setting. “And best of all, it’s almost in our backyards. So how did the meeting with the PI go?” She struck off toward the circular road that wound through the park.

  “Okay, I guess.” Moira fell in beside her. “The firm seemed more reputable than I expected.”

  “My guy at County gave it high marks. Cal Burke in particular. I got the impression they worked together on a few cases until Burke retired.”

  Moira sent her a questioning look. “He’s too young to be retired.”

  “Don’t be too sure. A lot of public servants can kiss off their jobs after twenty or twenty-five years.”

  “Unless he’s very well preserved, Cal Burke hasn’t hit forty yet.”

  “Really?” Linda swept her long black hair into a scrunchy band. “I just assumed he was older. Most law enforcement types who become PIs are retired. I’ll have to get the scoop from my contact about why he left. What’s he look like?”

  “Tall. Dark-haired. Brown eyes. Solid.”

  Linda wrinkled her nose. “Solid as in one too many doughnuts?”

  “No. As in stalwart. Honorable. Someone you could count on.”

  Linda turned her head without breaking stride. “I see he made quite an impression. Is he good-looking?”

  “Yeah.” Very.

  “Woohoo.” Her friend beamed at her. “This whole experience may have some side benefits you never dreamed of.”

  “Forget it. He’s married.” She picked up her pace.

  “How do you know?”

  “He has a very distinctive wedding ring.”

  “Too bad.” Linda’s face fell. “But one of these days you’ll meet a handsome, stalwart man who isn’t. And you need to be open to that. You can’t discount all men because of one bad experience. It’s time to write off Jack and move on.”

  “Trust me. I’ve written him off.”

  “Sorry. Not buying. You guys broke up a year ago. If you’d moved on, you’d be dating again.”

  “I’ve had more important things to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Work, for one.”

  “You can’t work twenty-four hours a day.” Linda cocked her head. “Or maybe you can. Maybe that’s what it takes to be nominated for a Pulitzer prize. Which eliminates me from the running. I’m not that dedicated.”

  “Not true. You work hard.”

  “But Scott comes first.”

  Moira couldn’t argue with that. Since Linda and Scott had married two years ago, her friend’s priorities had shifted. Her own might have too, if things had worked out with Jack. But hard as the breakup had been, what if she hadn’t discovered his true character until after she’d married him?

  Now that was a scary thought.

  Moira suppressed a shudder.

  Her phone began to trill, and she pulled it out of her pocket to check caller ID, grateful for the distraction. “I need to take this. It’s the garage with the estimate for my car.”

  “No problem. I’ll make a few circuits of the playground. That’ll keep the blood moving.” Linda gestured to a loop path that branched away from the main road and set off.

  Pressing the talk button, Moira greeted the technician, who got down to business at once.

  “We’ll, she’s fixable. That’s the good news. The bad news is it won’t be cheap.”

  The man rattled off a list of things that needed to be replaced, including the back fender, bumper, trunk lid, and t
aillights on one side. Her head was spinning by the time he finished.

  And when he gave her the total, the bottom fell out of her stomach.

  Why, oh why, had she opted for a high deductible and lower premiums when she’d renewed her car insurance three months ago? Yes, she’d been accident-free. Yes, the odds had been in her favor that her record would continue. But what was that old saying about being penny wise, pound foolish?

  “That about wraps it up, ma’am. You want us to go ahead and get started?”

  What choice did she have?

  “Yes, fix everything.” Visions of a menu featuring macaroni and cheese for the foreseeable future danced in her head.

  “I’ll have her ready for you by the end of next week.”

  “Perfect.” She started to say good-bye, then frowned. “Wait a second . . . what about the broken window?”

  She heard the sound of rustling paper. “I don’t see any notation about that. I checked your car out myself before I turned her over to one of the boys, and I didn’t see any broken windows.”

  “But the man at the accident scene said there was glass on the seat.”

  “I’ll take another gander, but I don’t think we missed anything. The only broken glass we saw was the taillight. Did you have a ceramic mug or a hand mirror in the car?”

  “No.”

  “Hmph. Well, I’ll give it another going-over, but if you don’t hear back from me within the hour, assume I didn’t find anything.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  Slowly Moira slid the phone back into her pocket.

  She was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland, where nothing was as it seemed.

  “What’s the bad news?” Linda strode over and lifted her arm to swipe her forehead on the sleeve of her T-shirt.

  “Dollar-wise, or in terms of mental health?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The repair guy says there was no broken glass in the car.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  “More weird than bad. The guy who stopped to help me at the accident said there was glass on the seat. And I felt it. It was sharp. He had me move aside so he could brush it off.”

  “That is strange.”

  “So what else is new?” Moira blew out a breath. “First I imagine a woman. Next I imagine a man. Now I imagine glass. If I didn’t have a bruise on my temple and a mind-numbing repair bill staring me in the face, I’d start to think I imagined the whole thing.”

  “Maybe the PI will find some evidence that supports your story.”

  Moira moved forward again. “I’m not holding my breath. All he has to go on is my version of what happened and the police report, and I know what the deputy thought. I have a sinking feeling this is going to be a dead end.”

  “It’s not like you didn’t try.”

  “I know. But something bad happened Friday night, Linda. That woman was terrified. If I don’t try to figure it out, no one will.”

  “What else can you do, if there aren’t any clues to go on?”

  Not much.

  But letting this thing die didn’t sit well.

  As they moved on to more innocuous topics, Moira tried to focus on the soft evening sunlight, the sweet smell of lilacs, and the soft pink petals of the dogwoods ruffling in the gentle breeze. But the placid setting did nothing to calm her churning stomach. She was used to digging deep for stories. To searching for truth even if that meant disturbing the status quo, no matter the risk. And she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Giving up had never been her style.

  Except this time she didn’t know where to dig.

  Cal Burke was her last hope.

  And if an ex-detective couldn’t help her solve this puzzle, Linda was right.

  She might be at a dead end.

  “I think we’re at a dead end, buddy.”

  “Yeah.” Cal propped his fists on his hips and surveyed the accident scene, which had turned out to be closer to Defiance than Augusta. Then he followed Dev back to the gray Taurus. “Thanks for coming out with me.”

  “I didn’t have anything better to do on a Tuesday night. Especially in a white utility van. Not that I don’t appreciate we all drive company cars, you understand, but my vehicle-of-the-month is putting a serious crimp in my social life. It is not, shall we say, a date dazzler. I’m counting the days until I get the Explorer from Connor in May.”

  “He won’t be back until Saturday. Use it until then.”

  “I might. On Friday night, at least.”

  “Hot date?”

  “Maybe.”

  Flashing him a quick grin, Cal squinted into the setting sun and did a final three-sixty sweep. They’d walked every inch of the road near the skid marks—and well past. Ventured into the woods on both sides. Checked out the drainage ditch. Did a thorough search of the area around the tree with the freshly ripped-off bark where Moira’s car had come to rest.

  And they’d come up with zilch. Zip. Nada.

  If anyone else had been around the night of the accident, they’d left no footprints, tire marks, hubcaps, or personal belongings of any kind, including pocket change, shoes, or glasses.

  “Assuming there was anything here to find, the torrential rain could have washed it away.” Dev gave the scene one last survey too.

  “I know.”

  It was time to go. The sun was setting, and they had a thirty-five-mile drive home.

  “Ready to call it a day?” Dev started toward the passenger door.

  Cal hesitated. Caught his partner’s arm. “Wait. Let’s do one more pass. Moira said the woman was standing about fifty feet away when she slammed on her brakes. Why don’t we mark that spot from the beginning of the skid tracks, assume she was thrown, and do a search in a tighter radius?”

  Dev didn’t object, though Cal wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. They’d gone over the whole area thoroughly already, and daylight was fading.

  His partner did have a comment, though. “She got under your skin, didn’t she?”

  Cal opened the passenger door and leaned down to retrieve a flashlight from the glove compartment, willing the flush on his neck to stay below his collar. “Her story did. I’m convinced she saw more than a deer in her headlights. And I don’t think she imagined the guy who stopped, either.”

  “If she didn’t, we have a real mystery on our hands.”

  “One that won’t get solved if we give up.”

  “Okay. Gauntlet accepted. Hand me a flashlight too.”

  Cal passed the second one over, and Dev gestured to the pavement. “You take the right side of the stripe, I’ll take the left. You want to go out twelve feet from the center point?”

  “Sounds reasonable. She wasn’t driving at a high speed. I doubt a person would have been thrown farther than that.”

  Cal flipped on his flashlight, aimed the beam at the pavement, and began a second, meticulous search, dodging a curious motorist who happened by.

  Ten minutes later, as he was about to complete his circuit and call it a day, the beam of his light landed on a small white object wedged between two broken pieces of asphalt at the side of the road. It looked a lot like a rock, but the shape made him pause.

  Dropping down to the balls of his feet, he kept the light focused on it. Leaned closer.

  “Find something?” Dev joined him.

  “I don’t know. What does that look like to you?” He pointed to the peanut-sized object.

  Dev inspected it. “A rock?”

  “I think it’s a tooth.”

  His colleague bent down. “That’s possible. Let me get a magnifying glass and some tweezers.”

  “Bring the camera too. And an evidence envelope.”

  Two minutes later, Dev was back. Cal laid a nickel beside the object and moved back as Dev took a close-up shot.

  After removing one of the pieces of asphalt, Cal gently worked the object out with the tweezers and held it up.

  It was a tooth.

 
“Wow. I can’t believe you spotted that.”

  “Twenty-twenty comes in handy on occasion. You want to fill out the envelope?”

  “Yeah.” Dev fished a pen out of his pocket and noted the case number, date, time, location, and a description on the front. After initialing it, he flexed it open.

  Cal dropped the tooth inside, sealed the manila flap, and added his initials to Dev’s.

  “This may not mean anything except that someone lost a tooth in this area.” Dev stood. “Could be from a kid who fell off a bike. Or even an animal.”

  “I know. But it won’t hurt to tuck this away in our evidence closet.”

  “It’s not enough to take on this case, Cal.”

  At his partner’s quiet comment, Cal led the way back toward the car. “I know that too.” Much as he’d like to help Moira Harrison, there simply weren’t any tangible leads to track down.

  They slid into their seats in silence. Cal buckled up, started the engine, and aimed the car toward St. Louis.

  And as they began the long drive home in the dusk, he found himself dreading tomorrow, when he’d have to call and give a lovely lady some bad news.

  Why wasn’t there any broken glass in her car?

  Still wrestling with that question, Moira slid the key into the lock on the front door of her condo, twisted the handle, and stepped inside. The loud beep of the security alarm reminded her to punch in her code, and she did so on autopilot. Lucky thing she and Linda were such good friends, considering how she’d zoned out for the remainder of their walk.

  She tossed her keys on the table in her tiny foyer and headed straight for the shower. It might only be April, but the day had been very warm, and her tank top was clinging to her.

  Moira lingered under the cool spray, wishing she could wash away the memory of Friday night and all its repercussions as easily as the water washed away the grime of the day.

  On second thought . . . maybe she wouldn’t want to wash away everything that had happened. Meeting Cal Burke had been pleasant, despite the circumstances—and his marital status. If he was as ethical and honorable as he seemed, his wife was a lucky woman.

  A little niggle of envy surprised her, and Moira did her best to subdue it as she reached for a towel. Just because she’d picked a loser didn’t mean she begrudged Cal’s wife her good fortune. Nor Linda hers.