32. Noaz
32
NOAZ
We’re quiet as we get into the car that’s waiting for us. As soon as my phone connects to the Bluetooth, I call Voss.
“Did you find Heath’s number?” I ask.
“Yep. I’ll text it to you.”
“What else did you find?”
“Sending his place of employment and frequent stops. I’m working on finding accurate information. There are three different dates and times Miranda was reported missing. It’s… fishy. I’m running with the one her boyfriend called in.”
My stomach flips with nerves. Both for her and because I know I’m right about this.
“When did he report it?”
“Two and a half days ago.”
“The woman at the adoption agency said over seventy-two hours,” Briar says.
Voss hums. “You see the discrepancies I’m working with.”
“Is there a procedure for women with the adoption agency? Maybe they have follow-up meetings? Maybe she missed one,” I suggest.
“If it was off the books, maybe,” Voss says. “Not something I’m ruling out.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Will do. Be safe. Let me know if you find anything interesting.”
Murders happen typically within three days of a kidnapping if the abductor intends to murder their victim. We’re coming up on a deadline.
My phone pings. “Can you dial the number Voss sent, please?”
Briar nods, picking up my phone. My mind is racing as the phone rings. What about our baby? The baby is viable right now since Miranda’s pregnancy hit thirty-seven weeks yesterday. But… fuck, why would you abduct a pregnant woman?
So many horrible scenarios go through my mind. Thankfully, they’re cut off when the call is answered.
“Hello?”
“Heath?”
“Yes? Did you find Miranda?”
I can hear the hysteria in his voice. Now, I’m not going to say he’s faking it. Partners are notoriously under suspicion regardless of how their relationship appears.
“This is Noaz Van Doren.”
“Noaz. Oh, thank god. I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. I’m guessing if you didn’t know, you must know now. ”
“We were told late this morning. Are you busy? We’re in Colorado and we’d like to see you.”
“Yes, please. Come over. Our kids are here too.”
“Thank you. Will you text me your address?”
“Yes. Right away. See you when you get here.”
The call ends and is followed immediately by a text. Briar programs the address into the phone. We landed in another family-owned small airport—Reed Hollow Ranch Airport. Since we knew we were headed toward Castle Pines, we’re already headed in that direction. The GPS says thirteen minutes.
The house is small but well-kept. I’d be surprised if it’s bigger than a two-bedroom. There are a bunch of cars in the driveway when we pull up. The front door is open and Heath is standing in it.
“Look around at the houses,” I tell Briar before we get out. “Look for security cameras.”
Briar glances at me and nods. We meet Heath in the doorway and my first observation is that he’s shaken. His eyes are red and his hands are shaking.
“Come in. I’m glad you’re here,” Heath says.
I look back at Briar as he’s turning around. He gives me a smile, but I’m not sure what it means. Did he find cameras? Or is he offering me comfort?
The house is small on the inside too,. We walk right into the living room with five additional people. It isn’t difficult to determine these are the five grown kids—Miranda’s three we’d met and the two we hadn’t could only be Heath’s.
Heath makes quick introductions. Miranda’s kids, in order of age, are Esmirelda, Peter, and Bekka. Heath’s two are Bradley and Jenna. All five children are visibly upset. Now I wish I’d told Briar to observe behaviors as much as possible.
“Tell me what happened,” I say. “I just spoke to Miranda last week, and she seemed happy.”
Heath nods. “She went to work. Her last day. And she never came home. When I called into her office the next morning—because it was closed by the time I realized she didn’t come home and wasn’t answering her phone—they said she didn’t come back from lunch the day before. When I called the police to update them, they said they already had that information.”
“Where does she go for lunch?” I ask.
Heath shakes his head. “She doesn’t. I always make her lunch.”
“Are you a detective, too?” Esmirelda asks.
“I’m a private investigator,” I tell her. “A job I was retiring from to raise a family, but clearly, my work isn’t done.”
She sighs. I’m glad I’ve practiced that lie as thoroughly as I have.
“Tell me anything you think will be helpful.”
“She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, one week since her last. I called and they haven’t seen or heard from her since we were there last week,” Heath says. “I don’t have her phone and since the first few times I called it, it’s now going straight to voicemail.”
“Battery is probably dead,” Peter suggests.
“Do you share a phone plan?” I ask Heath. He shakes his head. “No. But Bekka is on her phone plan.”
Bekka holds up her phone. “I don’t know if it’ll be much help, but you can look at it. ”
Briar reaches for it and I note the carrier. I send a text to Voss to ask him to check her phone records over the last week to see if there are any numbers he can’t identify as usual call activity.
“She was happy,” Heath says. The strain in his voice is evident. “The detective is trying to convince me she might have changed her mind and ran away so she could keep the baby. I tried to explain how I know that’s not the case. If he knew her, knew her past and how hard she fought to get where she is, he’d think otherwise. But he just keeps insisting we don’t always know people as well as we think we do.”
I look at Briar. He’s frowning. “I got that impression, too.”
“Have you spoken to the adoption agency?” Briar asks.
Heath nods. “I did shortly after I first called the police. They called me, asking about scheduling another appointment for when the baby has been born and handed over. Follow-up procedure, I guess. Or maybe they called it a closeout.”
Briar tilts his head and I’m guessing he’s recalling the same thing I am. Voss said the first one who reported Miranda missing was the adoption agency before Heath called the police.
I send a text to Voss and tell him to use that time instead. We need to look into the adoption agency.
“Do you always deal with Vanessa?” I ask.
“Yes. We had a different lady first, but Vanessa took over at the third meeting, I think. Her name was Pam. I don’t remember a last name.”
I send that name to Voss, too.
“Okay. What about her favorite places: restaurants, bookstores, clothing boutiques, anything. ”
The entire family starts rattling off places. I’m sending some to Voss as I ask questions. Occasionally, Briar will throw out a question too. It’s a barrage of voices for almost twenty minutes.
“Good. Now tell me anything you think is useless information,” I say.
I make three notes from this onslaught. One, someone at Bekka’s school said a pregnant neighbor went missing last year. She was never heard from again. Two, her family location tracker picked her up at work, but upon further examination, the phone wasn’t inside the building. Then the battery died. And three, the detective hasn’t even been over to the house. He hasn’t questioned the kids. And it doesn’t appear that he’s looked into anyone in person at all.
“One last question. Do you have any personal, professional, or family relationship with a member of the police department outside of the detective on Miranda’s case?” I ask.
I’m disappointed when they all shake their heads.
“Even if in another city,” I prompt.
“Someone you trust,” Briar adds.
Still no answer.
“Thank you for repeating things I’m sure you’ve already said many times,” I say as I get to my feet.
“We weren’t asked any questions,” Peter says. “They talked to Heath, and that’s it. Not even Bekka and she lives here.”
I frown. “Listen. Share my number amongst you and if you think of anything, let me know. If this detective calls you, let me know. What he says or asks might sound insignificant, but it might be a direction he’s looking in that I’d like to follow up with. ”
“You’re going to find her, aren’t you?” Bekka asks, big tears in her eyes.
“I’m going to do everything I can to find her. Promise.”
Bekka nods.
When we get back into my car, I say, “I think this detective is shady as fuck.”
“I was going to say that,” Briar agrees. “What do we do now?”
“Call Voss. Then we’re going to talk to the detective in person.”
Briar nods as the phone ringing fills the car.
“These are some interesting leads,” Voss says by way of greeting. “First, I’d already pulled up her call log and was running the numbers in the background for identification. Unsurprisingly, there are very few calls going in and out of her phone, with Heath’s being the most frequent, but she talks to her children regularly.”
“I’d gotten the impression that they’re relatively close,” Briar says.
“Seems so. There is a single call that came in an hour before the agency reported her missing. The call is traced to a burner phone registered in San Diego. A little deeper digging and the call pinged from a satellite that says that’s a lie and it was right there in the Colorado Springs area.”
“She was called out of the office?”
“Seems that way. I’m combing through the case records now and it’s filled with the most basic information. There’s very little follow-up on leads. Someone doesn’t care if she’s found or not.”
“We’d also gotten that impression,” I say. “The detective is attempting to convince everyone she simply ran away so she could keep the baby. ”
“I’m sure no one is convinced that’s what’s happening here,” Voss says.
“So, are we looking at the police officer?” Briar asks.
“Have you dropped in on the police yet?”
“We’re heading there now.”
“Let me know what you think of him when you do,” Voss requests. “I’ve run a preliminary background on him and Vanessa. They’ve come back clean. I’ll dive deeper if need be, but I don’t want to concentrate on a dead end when there are plenty of other things to look into. Like the pregnant neighbor who went missing and was never found.”
“Okay, good. We’ll call you when we’re done.” The call ends and I glance at Briar. “Pay special attention to body language. Look for the tells of lies—lack of eye contact, fidgeting, irrelevant details that they’re hyper fixated on, avoiding a question. That kind of thing.”
Briar nods. “Do you think we’ll get anything from him?”
“No. But I think what we don’t get will be far more useful than what we do.”
I’ve been in my fair share of police stations. There was a time when I kept my cover as a PI very seriously and therefore pretended to work with the police to glean information from them. I’m not entirely sure why I stopped, but I imagine I was getting less than I was giving and therefore wrote them off as obstacles more than allies.
The man at the front desk looks up when we walk in. I keep eye contact, waiting for an initial reaction. They’re indifferent and don’t recognize me. I like that.
“I’m looking for Detective Anthony Malone regarding the Miranda Fusco missing person case,” I tell him .
He nods. “Your name?”
“Noaz Van Doren.”
He stares at me before straightening his shoulders. He might not know who I am, which I prefer, but he knows my name. I don’t care about respect; no one deserves respect they didn’t earn. Argue with me all you want. But they know money talks and no one wants to be on the wrong end of the Van Doren lawyers.
“Just a minute, Mr. Van Doren.”
“He’s in?”
“Oh, yes.”
I want to ask more questions regarding how often he’s out, but if I had to take a guess, ‘ oh, yes ’ is telling enough. He doesn’t leave the office much.
This man leads us to an office that looks almost empty. It’s devoid of life and personality. There’s a single picture on the wall. A landscape from a drone point of view, maybe. Generic. On the opposite wall is an old photo of someone in their dress blues. Guessing from its age and basic features, I think they’re likely a relative of the detective sitting behind the desk.
There are two worn chairs in front of the desk. An old lamp and a laptop sit on the desk. That’s it. The office is essentially empty. If it hadn’t been for the placard on the door, I’d think we were brought to an unused office they use for drop-ins.
Detective Anthony Malone gets to his feet and cheerily offers me his hand. The smile alone is enough to convince me this guy isn’t taking Miranda’s case seriously at all. It also gives me directions to play in.
Distraught third party concerned for their unborn baby.
“Is there any news?” I ask .
He shakes his head, but his pretend sympathetic look is not convincing. There’s zero concern in his eyes. “No. I’m sorry. We’re following up on leads as fast as we can.”
“I understand. We’re just so upset and confused.”
“I know. This must be very hard for you. I’m sorry to say it happens more than you might think. Women change their minds—a mother’s love, you know?”
There wasn’t any conviction behind that. If I had to take a guess, this man has mommy issues.
However, I don’t give up quite yet. Looking him directly in his eyes, I ask, “Do you think she’s okay? Wherever she is?”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Mr. Van Doren. I’m so sorry for how this impacts you. I truly am.”
I nod, bowing my head. I’d be surprised if anything out of this man’s mouth is anything other than a lie. “Will you keep me updated, Detective?”
“Of course,” he says, getting to his feet. He walks us out, assuring us they’re doing everything in their power to find Miranda and bring her home.
Once we’re sitting in the car, I look shrewdly at the building. “He’s entirely detached from this case.”
“You play a good damsel,” Briar notes.
I give him a grin. “You learn how to act to get the information you seek. However, if she just ran away, there’d be a trail, and she’d likely have already been located,” I say. “She’s not a criminal. I wholeheartedly doubt she’d know how to fall off the grid entirely.”
“Besides, she’s having a baby. That means she needs a hospital and money to raise that baby and feed herself,” Briar adds .
Nodding, I put the car in drive and head to the house our family owns in Castle Rock. Once we’re a few blocks away from the precinct, I dial Voss.
“How close to home are you?” Voss asks as soon as he answers.
“Ten minutes.”
“Good. Call when you get there. You’re going to want to be sitting down for this.”
I take a shaky breath. This isn’t going to be good.