Chapter Two
Damascus
Phylis Lizney’s Home
Friday EARLY
Morning
Unfortunately for them, it was the ass crack of dawn, and there were two none-too-happy cops standing out in the cold morning. These particular cops weren’t exactly shocked they were there, but they were a tad bit pissy.
Why were they unhappy? Well, maybe because this was the third missing person case they’d been handed in less than forty-eight hours.
That had to be some sort of record for anyone in Damascus.
It was out of control.
Yesterday morning, they’d been given another assignment where a woman had gone missing, then later that afternoon, the same thing had happened all over again.
The third time was NOT a charm for them. In fact, it was a pain in the ass.
They’d been up all night working on those two cases, trying to determine what happened to them, when they had been handed more for their overburdened plate.
Apparently, now, there was a third.
Oh, and it was crystal clear their bosses hated their guts to give them another one when they were just getting acclimated with the first two.
Jesus.
This was a mess, especially since this was not their normal gig. Homicide detectives got bitchy when they were asked to cover missing person cases.
Seriously.
“And you’re absolutely sure that she is missing?” Detective Dannie Pezzimente asked, hoping there was some sort of mistake.
Only, his gut said that wasn’t going to happen. The man who called this in was pacing back and forth erratically, the worry clearly written all over his face.
Yeah, no.
This was going to be another missing person case. He could feel it in his gut.
Houston, they had a problem.
A big one.
The man ran his hands through his hair.
“She must not have come home last night,” he said. “On Thursdays, she goes out with her friends for wine and painting. I don’t think she came home! Where is my wife?” he asked, rhetorically.
Because no one could answer that.
The detective made notes.
“How did she get there?” Detective Pezzimente asked, seeing two cars in the driveway. “Is that car hers?”
The husband paced, ignoring the second part of the question, but answering the first.
“She took a cab, so that she didn’t drive home drunk after the girl’s night out.”
Not far from the male detective, there was another on the scene with him. The other detective was also making notes.
Yeah, Detective Leah Balo was also curious.
“And she didn’t call or…?” she asked, letting that hang there.
He shook his head.
“No. I work third shift, and she wouldn’t call me at work. She knows that I don’t have my phone on me. I work in a warehouse, so my phone stays in my truck. We aren’t allowed to have our phones on us.”
Both detectives were asking questions and listening as they tried to hopefully find the logical answer to this man’s situation. Trust and believe, they did NOT want a third missing person case handed to them.
“Oh, my God! What happened to my wife? She’d never not show up at home!”
He was getting exasperated and bordering on hysterical. While they couldn’t blame him, they had to keep him calm to get information.
Honestly, they wouldn’t even be worried about this case since she was only missing for less than twelve hours, but the two other cases had them stressed.
Three, in this case, was NOT a lucky number.
“Okay, Mr. Lizney, we know this is scaring you, but for Phylis’ sake, you need to stay calm. We’ll figure this out.”
He stopped them.
“Dave. My name is Dave, and I’m beyond scared. I need you to help find her. My wife is NOT going to flake out and not show up at home. I need you to…”
Leah stopped him.
“Breathe. We know what you need us to do, and we’re going to start working on it. What you can do now is give us some information. We’ll need it, and then we’ll go from there. Okay?” she asked, trying to calm him down.
That seemed to have helped.
A little.
“What you can tell us might help. Maybe she’s at a girlfriend’s home, or she stayed closer to the place to sober up,” she offered.
Deep down, there was the hope that was the case, and not something far more nefarious.
Or that she wandered away drunk and passed out in an alley to die of hypothermia.
Adamantly, he shook his head.
“I called all of her friends,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Here!” he offered to show them.
Shoving the phone at them, he needed them to hurry up and find his wife. This wasn’t like her, and even her friends were worried.
“My wife would NEVER make alternate plans without telling someone. That isn’t how she behaves!”
Leah took the phone so he would calm down. He was their best resource on his wife, and they needed him to remain levelheaded.
But already, Leah didn’t like the vibe on this. Three missing women within days, and they were all reliable people?
Yeah, that was bad.
“Okay, tell us what you know. You spoke to her friends, so share that with us. Can you do that, Dave?” she asked.
He nodded, and then Dave started telling them everything he’d found out.
“I called each one, and they said they all finished up, and headed out. Her best friend Otha said she called a cab and was waiting outside the business to catch it.”
Dannie made notes.
“Okay, what is Otha’s full name?” he asked.
He shared.
“Otha Lapson. She and Phylis have been best friends for a while.”
They made notes as Dave kept talking as he paced back and forth.
“Stacy Beaurn, her other close friend, said the same thing. They offered to wait with her, but she sent them on their way. She told them she’d be fine waiting for the cab to pick her up.”
As he shared, Leah was checking his phone, and the last time he’d talked to his wife was as he headed out to work the night before at ten.
He’d sent her a text, and she’d not replied to it.
“What time did the place close?” she asked. “You know, where they went to paint and drink.”
Already, she knew what business he was talking about. There was only one that fit the bill in Damascus.
The Tipsy Easel.
It was a boutique of sorts where you went in, picked out a medium, like ceramics or canvas, had wine, and did girl nights with friends.
It was fun there, and a popular place.
Dave tried to recall the answer to that question, but honestly, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure.
“I think eleven. She normally sends me a text on her way home. I see it in the morning when I’m leaving work.
I didn’t get one this morning, and I just assumed she drank a little too much.
When I came home, I went to our bedroom, and she wasn’t in there.
Our bed wasn’t slept in! You gotta find her! ”
Dannie tried to calm him down. Detective Pezzimente knew they were screwed if they couldn’t get information to lock this down.
Only, he’d be freaking out too.
Deep down, he didn’t like this.
Why?
This sounded like the other two women who had disappeared. There was a little nagging voice in his head that was shouting in alarm.
God.
He sincerely hoped that this wasn’t what he suspected it was going to be.
A.
MESS.
“What is the name of the painting place she went to?” he asked, needing a place to start.
Dave rattled it off.
“It’s called The Tipsy Easel,” he said. “It’s on Fourth!”
Yeah, Leah had been right. That was the business that was a block from her apartment in the heart of downtown.
“Gotcha,” Dannie said, making notes.
As they did their job, it was clear that Dave was getting even more agitated.
His pacing had intensified, and he looked about ready to bolt.
Then, like predicted, the man was over it.
“Why aren’t you out looking for her? Something bad happened to my wife! She’s not someone who does shit like this!” he said loudly, like they weren’t standing three feet from him.
Or were deaf.
Well, there was an answer to that.
Maybe because they were looking for two other women at the same time, and now, it was looking like a trio of horrible had been dumped into their laps.
Oh, and also, they’d just got this call. They’d work on it after they got information.
What they were both thinking was that two other women had disappeared the previous night, and it was looking like they had a serial abductor.
If someone was taking women, they weren’t doing it for good reasons. This looked nefarious.
Yeah…
This.
Was.
Bad.
“We will, Sir,” Leah stated. “We literally just got here. Can you calm down, and we’ll start the process? It takes time, and we’re going to help as much as we can.”
The irony was that this was likely being handed over to homicide at some point.
Oh, and they were homicide.
Lucky them.
There was no escaping this case, clearly.
They both saw the moment he was done with the interview. His face said it all.
He was out of there.
“I’m going looking for my wife!” he stated. “She might be hurt in an alley, or the cab driver might have hurt her! I’ll do your goddamn job!”
Well, he could have it.
Dannie would be more than happy to hand it over to him. He was tired, and this was not something he liked feeling in his gut. Already, he suspected what the outcome was going to be, and neither he nor his partner wanted that.
They likely had someone taking women. They were all around the same age, mid-thirties, and had just gone missing.
“Sir, can we maybe go inside and…”
Dave pointed at his house as he dug into his pocket for his truck keys.
“Have at it!” he said. “I’m heading to that painting studio to start asking if anyone knows where my wife is.”
They couldn’t stop him.
That was the last thing they wanted getting out that they were strongarming a man who was likely going to be getting bad news about his wife.
He was calling in a missing person’s report, not admitting to hurting her.
Like any case they worked, there was a process. They’d have to eliminate him by calling his place of employment, but already, they were thinking this was a whole other mess.
“Sir, we…”
Only, Dave didn’t care.
He headed toward his truck, got in, and headed out of there to go ‘help’ them. He backed out, and floored it, sending gravel everywhere.