Chapter Nine #2
Stepping out of his embrace, she poured a small amount of tea into a mug to inspect the color.
Finding it perfect, she poured them each a cup.
Perching on a stool, both hands curled around the mug, she watched him cook and told him everything.
When she reached the attempted mugging point in her story, he stiffened but said nothing.
“I have Zoe’s phone and a small stack of receipts.
Thankfully, Zoe is the type of person who crumples and tosses trash into the back of her vehicle. ”
Without a word, he turned to her and hugged her again, this time with a stronger measure of urgency. Then he released her and tossed a handful of dried spaghetti into the boiling water. “The fact that you were followed concerns me as much as the text message Zoe received.”
“Nicki and I handled it.”
“It still worries me, though I wish I’d been there to see it.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Have you touched base with Dylan since you found Zoe’s Jeep?”
“No.”
“Why not?” His voice held no criticism, only curiosity.
“We both know that the significant other is always a suspect.”
“But you know Dylan.”
“I’m trying to be objective. I’ve never met Dylan’s extended family. I think today was the first time I’ve been with him without Zoe. I don’t feel as if I know him well enough to risk Zoe’s life on being able to trust him—at least not yet. Do you approve of that decision?”
“Very much.” Lincoln took two shallow bowls from the cabinet and set a colander in the sink. “It can be hard to put emotions aside when you have a relationship with the people in your investigation. Being objective can mean the difference between success and failure.”
“Failure means not finding Zoe, so that’s not an option.”
“But he’s going to expect you to call him.”
“I know, but I don’t know how much to tell him.”
“Be vague?” Lincoln suggested.
Olivia pulled out her phone and called Dylan. He answered on the first ring. “Did you find her?”
“No, but I’m still trying.” The best way to avoid answering questions was to be the one asking them. “Did you discover anything?”
“No.” Dylan’s voice slurred. Had he been drinking? “I searched the entire apartment, and I made two hundred flyers. I put them on every windshield in the complex parking lot. Then I drove to her office to do the same, but there were only a couple of cars in that lot.”
“That was good thinking,” Olivia said. “Maybe someone saw something.”
“What are you doing now?” he asked. The sound of ice hitting a glass came over the connection. Had he progressed to hard liquor instead of wine?
“I’m going to regroup,” Olivia said. “I left a message for Wendy in case Zoe’s research is involved.”
“OK. I don’t know what to do.” His words trembled. “I’m so worried.”
“Have the police called you?” she asked.
“No,” he snapped. “It didn’t sound like they’re going to do anything.”
“They have to get warrants before they can really dig into her life,” Olivia said. She didn’t want Dylan to be hostile or oppositional with Billings. That never helped. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She didn’t tell him not to worry.
“Please, Olivia. You’re the only one other than me who seems to care.”
“Hang tight, Dylan.” She ended the call and turned to Lincoln. “I hope the police don’t return tonight to ask him more questions. He’s been drinking.”
“You said it looked like he’d been drinking last night too. Has Zoe ever mentioned Dylan having a problem with alcohol?” Lincoln strained the pasta.
“No.”
“Is that the kind of thing she’d share with you?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t share everything about my private life with her.”
He watched her through a cloud of billowing steam. “What if Zoe doesn’t want to be found?”
Olivia considered never knowing what happened to her friend.
“Then she’ll have to tell me that herself.
I can’t be objective about that. Especially not after seeing the text she got after midnight.
Someone told her to run. From what or whom?
She could be . . .” A flashback rolled through her with the power of a wicked August thunderstorm.
The cold, the damp, the dark. The shortness of breath.
The terror.
She shuddered, focused on steady breaths, and closed her eyes to concentrate. When she opened them, Lincoln was watching her. “You OK?”
“Yes. I know what it’s like to be kidnapped. I can’t take the chance that Zoe is being pursued or held captive somewhere with no one looking for her. If it hadn’t been for you . . .” Her lungs quaked again. “I can’t let it go.”
Before she could recover, he was in front of her, his arms around her, his steadiness seeping into her body, talking into her hair.
“Even if you didn’t have your own experience driving you, I wouldn’t expect you to just accept Zoe’s disappearance.
If it were one of my friends, I wouldn’t give up either. ”
“The police don’t seem that interested.”
“The vast majority of people who are reported missing show up in a day or so, and you said he was a patrol officer. He’d be off duty now. He’ll probably call you back in the morning. What’s his name?” Lincoln had worked for the Scarlet Falls PD before he retired.
“Billings.”
“I don’t know him.” Lincoln turned back to his meal prep, filling bowls with pasta, topping them with sauce and grated cheese.
“Jenny Kruger can trace the number that sent the text.” Lance’s mother was a computer programmer, professor, and general whiz with all things digital.
She handled most of the PI firm’s technical online legwork.
“Thank you.” She slipped off her stool and retrieved her purse, pulling out Zoe’s phone and receipts. She returned to the island. Lincoln sat next to her. They sorted Zoe’s receipts while they ate.
Lincoln set aside his pile. “The most recent of these is a Starbucks receipt from last week. None of the others seem important. Normal day-to-day stuff. The police will want them, though.”
“Yes, but I’ll make copies before I turn them over, just in case one of them becomes relevant.” Olivia gathered them and put them into an envelope. “I have greater hopes for the phone.”
They spent the rest of the evening reading through Zoe’s emails and apps. She kept detailed notes about her research on her phone, using a voice recorder and an application specifically for note-taking.
Olivia said, “Usually she digs into a number of cases for the podcast, then narrows down the selections to the one that’s the most interesting or intriguing.
For Zoe, that’s an unsolved case with at least one strong suspect the police were unable to prove was guilty.
She has dozens of files in her research folder. ”
“When you start researching new books, do you end up doing more research on the most promising cases?”
“Yes, and the ones that are less interesting naturally fall off my radar.”
“Then try sorting by computer file size.”
“Good idea.” Olivia re-sorted the file list. “The largest files are titled Reyes, Martin, Grady, Patel, and Hamilton.” She retrieved a notebook from her drawer and began copying notes from Zoe’s phone. “I’ll ask Wendy if Zoe made a decision about next season’s case yet.”
“Now let’s talk about the storage unit,” Lincoln said. “She paid cash to avoid an obvious digital trail, and the only thing inside her unit was her Jeep?”
“Yes.”
Lincoln gathered their dishes and transferred them to the sink. He began rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. “If she left her vehicle there, it seems reasonable to assume she traded it for a vehicle that was already in the unit.”
“That seems the most likely conclusion,” Olivia said. “What was Zoe into that would require her to have an exit plan?”
“Do you know when she first rented the storage unit?”
“More than eight years ago. The company’s records don’t extend back further than that.”
“So it’s possible that she had that unit—or a different one—even longer?”
“Yes.” Olivia’s phone buzzed. She answered the call.
“It’s Wendy Simon, returning your call. Have you found Zoe?”
“No,” Olivia said.
“Damn. I really thought she’d turn up by now. Even I’m starting to worry.”
“I’d like to see Zoe’s office. Can you let me in?”
“Yeah. I guess it would be OK.” Wendy yawned. “I can meet you there tomorrow morning. A cop wants to see her office and talk to me too.”
Olivia stiffened. “Do you have the officer’s name?”
“Yeah. I wrote it down. Hold on.” Wendy paused for a second, then said, “Billings.”
“When did you speak to him?”
“About an hour ago.”
Olivia bristled. Billings was working late, but he hadn’t returned her call.
“He’s meeting me at eight,” Wendy said.
“Can you meet me at seven?” Olivia wanted access to Zoe’s office before the police.
“Why?” Wendy sounded suspicious.
“I don’t want to get in his way,” Olivia said vaguely, though it would be more accurate to say she didn’t want him to get in her way.
“I doubt the police would appreciate me giving you first access,” Wendy said in a cool voice. “If you want to see Zoe’s office, you can come at the same time or later. I’ll be in my office until noon.”
The connection went dead. Olivia frowned at her phone. Wendy had seen through her sad lie. “I’m out of practice. I used to be able to talk my way into just about any place.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Lincoln said. “Wendy works true crime cases with Zoe. She knows a little about law and procedure.”
“If she and Zoe regularly need access to information, she might not want to irritate the local PD either,” Olivia added.
“What do you know about Zoe’s past?”
“She grew up in Brick, New York, which is a few hours west of here. She has no siblings. Her parents died in a car accident when she was sixteen. She spent a couple years in foster care, got a scholarship and a degree in journalism from Syracuse. We met about fifteen years ago, when we worked for the same newspaper.” Olivia tried to remember more but failed.
“She doesn’t like to talk about her past.”
“Does she ever talk about trauma or abuse in the foster system?”
“No. In fact, she said she got lucky. The people she lived with were teachers. She credits them with helping her get her scholarship and fresh start.”
Lincoln looked skeptical. “You don’t know their names, do you?”
Olivia searched her brain. “The woman’s name was Clarice. Either Zoe never told me her last name, or I forgot.”
“You don’t forget much, so I suspect she never told you.” He closed the dishwasher door and paused. “Zoe was obviously mixed up in something bad. I can clear my calendar for tomorrow. I might be able to help. I speak fluent cop.”
“I appreciate the offer, but don’t you have another day of staring into a pair of binoculars?”
“Don’t remind me.” Lincoln grimaced. “I can work something out.”
“No. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”
He gave her a reluctant nod. “I will be available if you need me.”
“Wendy said Billings will be there. I should be safe enough in police company.”
“The keyword in that sentence is should.” Lincoln gave her a look. “Are you going to give him the phone along with the receipts?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Lincoln stared at the ceiling, clearly thinking it over. “Legally? I don’t know. It feels murky. Technically, no crime has been committed.”
“Technically, I broke into Zoe’s storage unit to get it,” Olivia pointed out.
“Did you damage any of the facility’s property?”
“No.”
“Is Zoe going to file a complaint?” Lincoln asked.
“No, but it still feels wrong to keep it. How can I push for Billings to do a full investigation if I hold back key evidence?”
“What are you going to do?”
Olivia touched the phone. “I’m going to copy the data and then hand it over.”
“Win-win,” Lincoln said.
“But now that I think about it, I don’t like that Billings will have first crack at Zoe’s office. What if he takes evidence and then doesn’t pursue the leads? I’ll never know.”
“Do you want to see her office first?”
“Like now?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t have a key.”
He scoffed. “Not a problem.”
Billings hasn’t even called me back. I told him I had important information. Is he interested in finding Zoe or actively looking for reasons not to look?
She stood. “Let’s do it.”