Chapter Four #2
Arlington Heights, 10:00 a.m.
OWEN PARKED AT the curb in front of the Morris home. The house was small, more a cottage, with an equally small yard filled with blooming shrubs and flowers.
“Her car is home,” Leah said.
Owen watched the woman in the passenger seat for a few seconds.
Leah Gerard was worried. Understandably so.
Her life had been turned upside down with this business.
He’d done his research, and Raymond Douglas wasn’t quite the upstanding businessman Leah had been led to believe.
He’d spent some time as a chef but then realized there was far more money to be made in investments.
With that in mind, he’d used his knowledge of Chicago’s culinary world to get in on the best and biggest options.
In the past five years, his financial worth had skyrocketed.
The agency was looking into the possibility of such a huge change in status when his only assets were in the restaurant business.
Owen wasn’t convinced his new net worth matched his investments.
As well, Leah’s friend Isla had a vaguely troubling background as well.
Five years ago, there was a brief stint in a private mental hospital.
A few months later, a disappearance that was reported to the police and then, only a week later, withdrawn and the case closed.
Both parties hid these discrepancies well, but a solid background check and a little extra digging told the tale.
Douglas’s history showed indications of being a possible scam artist. Morris’s reflected a brief period of instability and then nothing but smooth sailing.
The real question for Owen was, how did whatever was going on with those two affect or involve Leah—or each other, for that matter?
There were some aspects of the situation that Leah needed to see and learn for herself.
It would make accepting how badly she had been fooled somewhat easier.
For her sake, he wished there would be better news, that perhaps things weren’t as bad as they looked, but he doubted that would prove the case.
Owen had shared the information with Detective Lambert on a phone call that morning. Lambert had been on the right track, but his resources weren’t what the Colby Agency’s were. He was grateful for the assist. In Owen’s opinion, the sooner Leah was cleared of any wrongdoing, the better.
His read on Leah Gerard assured him she was telling the truth about Isla Morris and Raymond Douglas to the best of her knowledge.
Not that she was naive; she simply took people at face value until she saw otherwise.
There was nothing wrong with that approach, except it did make her susceptible to particularly cunning people.
He had a feeling Douglas was a very experienced player.
Morris perhaps more so, in hiding secrets.
There was no solid proof of wrongdoing in their known histories, but there were all the earmarks that Owen had instantly recognized: A lack of true friends.
Lots of acquaintances but few who were really close.
Little or no acknowledged family. In Douglas’s case, there was undocumented work and discrepancies in school history.
“Did I pass?”
He frowned, zeroed in on the woman in the passenger seat. She stared at him expectantly. “Pass what?”
It was always easier to mine for more information with a question rather than an answer. Just a little technique he’d picked up during his tenure at the Colby Agency.
“I don’t know.” She stared out the windshield then. “The way you were staring at me just now made me wonder if you were trying to decide if you trusted me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t think Detective Lambert believes my story.” After a five-second lapse, she turned back to Owen. “Maybe you don’t, either, but you just haven’t told me.”
“Well—” he shut off the engine “—I have found no reason not to believe your story.”
“So you’ve looked,” she countered. “Into my background.”
“I have. It’s necessary to find and consider all that the police will be studying.
” He offered a reassuring smile. “But don’t worry, you have a very good record, save for that brief period related to Painter.
Even then, it was only your involvement with bad characters that reflected poorly on you.
So you can rest easy. There is no evidence whatsoever that you are not the person you purport to be. ”
“But I was a terrible person.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “I caused my father’s death, and that was very bad.”
“We all have our own way of looking at ourselves, our individual scale of standards. Some of us set unreasonable expectations for what we can do or did. Some too easily accept blame for the actions of others. It’s part of what makes us who we are.
You, Leah Gerard, are a good person who made a foolish mistake at a very young age.
What you have now is a big problem looming over you like a dark cloud.
We’re going to alleviate that problem, and we’re going to start right now. ”
She nodded, her eyes a little bright, and reached for the door.
They walked side by side to the front door of the small cottage. Since there was no doorbell, Owen knocked. Two more knocks were required before a voice called out, “Coming.”
Leah’s relief was palpable. Owen flashed her a smile to reassure her. All they had to do was ask the right questions of the right people, and they would find the answers they needed. That was always the most direct route to resolving a case.
The door opened and a petite woman with gray hair and keen brown eyes looked from Owen to Leah. “Leah! How nice to see you.” She instantly drew Leah in for a hug. “You should have called.” She patted her loose shoulder-length hair. “I would have prepared myself for visitors.”
“You look wonderful as always,” Leah insisted. She glanced from Mrs. Morris to Owen and back. “This is my friend Owen, and we’re looking for Isla. Have you spoken to her since Saturday?”
A frown marred the older woman’s features. “I haven’t, and I’ve been worried.” She offered a smile for Owen before shifting her attention back to Leah. “Please, come in. Would you care for some coffee or tea?”
“No thank you,” Leah said.
“None for me, thank you,” Owen echoed.
Mrs. Morris ushered them inside, closed the door and then took a seat. The door opened right into the small living room. It was a cozy space with lots of clutter—“collections,” the lady of the house would likely call them. Bells, little statues of animals.
“Sit wherever you’d like,” she insisted.
Owen chose a side chair while Leah settled on the sofa with her friend’s mother. His goal during this visit was to watch the older woman closely for any tell that she might be holding back or not speaking the whole truth.
“I’m so worried about her,” Leah said. “She never ignores my calls or texts. Do you think something happened with her work at the hospital?”
According to Leah, Isla worked part-time at Northwestern Memorial ER.
The background search confirmed as such.
She’d moved to that job four years ago, leaving Mount Sinai.
It was possible she’d had to work double shifts, but this was well beyond those hours.
Only a crisis would keep her there for going on seventy-two hours.
The hospital was on his list of places to potentially visit today.
“She hasn’t called me back either,” Mrs. Morris said, her face pained. “She’s supposed to have lunch with me today, but I haven’t heard from her.”
Leah looked to Owen. “This isn’t like Isla at all.”
“It is not,” Mrs. Morris confirmed. “She is always on time. Never misses an appointment. Really, I’m not just saying that because she’s my daughter. This truly is most unusual.”
Owen pulled out his cell phone and showed her a picture of Raymond Douglas. “Have you ever seen this man?”
Mrs. Morris took the phone and studied the image. “I don’t think so.” She frowned, shook her head slowly. “Is he a friend of Isla’s?” She passed the phone back to him.
If she recognized Douglas, she hid it well. Owen deferred to Leah for the answer to the woman’s question.
“Isla told me she and Raymond—that’s the man in the photo—have been friends for years,” Leah explained. “She orchestrated a blind date for me with him.”
Mrs. Morris’s brow furrowed in concentration, as if she were trying to recall the name. “Perhaps he’s someone she knows from the hospital or school.”
“Perhaps,” Leah agreed.
She knew this was not the case, but Owen understood there was no reason to upset Isla’s mother further. Owen inquired, “Mrs. Morris, did Isla mention any trips she intended to take or issues she needed to resolve?”
Mrs. Morris searched Owen’s face for a long moment, her own clouding with increased worry. “Are you suggesting my daughter is missing or is in some sort of trouble?”
He considered how to answer for a moment. Leah’s eyes had widened with uncertainty. She didn’t want to upset her friend’s mother, which was understandable. But this woman—this mother—was not naive. She knew something was not as it should be.
“There was an incident late Saturday night at the restaurant where Leah was to meet Raymond Douglas for the date Isla had arranged. No one has seen Raymond or Isla since—at least, no one we’ve found.”
“Oh no.” Mrs. Morris pressed a hand to her chest. “Should we call the police?”
“The police are already involved with the Douglas case,” Owen explained.
“We’re only just learning that Isla hasn’t been returning calls either.
” He leaned forward, braced his elbows on his spread knees.
“So you can see how it’s very important that you let Leah know if you hear from Isla or if you have any idea where she might go to get away from the stress of school or work or a boyfriend.
The sooner we can confirm her safety and her whereabouts, the better for all concerned. ”
Mrs. Morris blinked several times, the emotion in her eyes visibly threatening her control. “I will certainly let you know,” she said to Leah. “I know Isla adores you, and whatever is going on, she would want you to know.”
“I would really appreciate it,” Leah told her.
The older woman drew in a big breath. “Some years back, I bought a lake house,” she said, this time to Owen.
“I haven’t been there in a very long time.
I actually bought it because the man I was dating at the time loved going to the lake.
Ridiculously, I thought we had a future together.
Anyway, Isla goes there occasionally.” She turned to Leah.
“Isla mentioned the two of you going several times. She always enjoyed telling me about your adventures. She said you were too afraid to swim in the lake. That you preferred soaking up the sun on the dock.”
Leah’s tight smile and vague nod warned there was something off with the story.
“Why don’t you give me the address,” Owen said, drawing Mrs. Morris’s attention to himself. “Leah and I will go out there and see if Isla is perhaps taking a break from the world. She’s done that before, I believe.”
“She has,” the woman agreed. “She went through a little breakdown during her final year of premed. It happens, you know. These high-achieving kids go off to college and overextend themselves on all fronts. The next thing you know, they’re breaking down or turning to drugs.
I’m just thankful Isla didn’t end up involved with the drugs. ”
“I understand.” He gave Mrs. Morris a knowing nod. “We’ll find her, see that she’s safe.”
“I would appreciate it so much,” Mrs. Morris said, gratitude in her eyes and her smile. “Remember,” she said to Leah, “the spare key is under the fairy.”
Mrs. Morris reminded Leah of the address for the Fox Lake home. She went on and on about the amenities and the lovely views. Leah nodded and made agreeable sounds, when it was obvious she had no idea where this retreat was located, much less what it offered.
But they were about to find out.
Leah hugged Isla’s mother and promised to keep her apprised. Mrs. Morris promised the same. By the time Owen and Leah were back in the car, she was shaking.
“I have no idea about this lake house.” She turned to Owen.
“I have never been there with Isla. She has never mentioned that her mother had one. It’s true I’m not big on swimming in anything other than pools where I can see the bottom, but I have never been to that lake house.
And Isla never told me about any sort of breakdown. ”
And there it was, the first crack in the beloved, seemingly steadfast friendship. One of the two had not been sharing everything.
“Maybe Isla was taking a friend with whom she had a physical relationship to the lake house,” Owen suggested.
“She may have told her mother it was you to avoid questions.” He wasn’t buying that story just yet, but if it made Leah feel better in the short term, that was the immediate objective.
He started the car and pulled away from the curb.
“That’s possible,” Leah agreed after pondering the suggestion.
“Her mother was always after her about the future and starting a family. She didn’t want Isla to wait until it was too late.
You know the routine. ‘Get married and make me some grandbabies.’” Leah laughed but the sound held no humor; it was more sad than anything.
“Isla does not want children. She’s all about her career.
I’m not sure how she’ll ever break it to her mother. ”
For Leah’s sake, he hoped that was her friend’s only dreaded secret. Though Owen now suspected it was just the tip of the iceberg.