Chapter Twenty-Three
Charlie had spent over an hour trying to determine if anyone had seen Jules leave the bar. Neither the doorman or the bartender had seen her depart, but there were several possible exits, and the place was crowded so it would have been easy for someone to take her.
Charlie was losing valuable time so he decided to head back to the office.
He jumped in his car and raced home. When he got back, everything was quiet, the lights were off, and the upstairs apartment was empty.
Maybe Declan had stayed late at Bar-None for a few drinks after he’d visited with Mickey and Angel.
Charlie checked his voicemail from the office phone in case Jules had tried to reach him, but there were no messages.
He called Declan’s cell.
Please answer. Please!
It went to voicemail so he left a brief message. “Hi, Declan. It’s me. Call me. I need your help.”
He drummed his fingers on his desk then punched in another number on the phone.
On the fourth ring, Mickey answered. “Bar-None.”
“Mickey. It’s me, Charlie.”
“Hey, Charlie. What can I do for you?”
“By any chance is Declan still there?”
“Sorry, Charlie. He left about a quarter after ten.”
Charlie glanced at his watch. It was past eleven. “Did he happen to say where he was going?”
“As far as I know, he was heading home,” Mickey replied.
Charlie frowned. “Well, he’s not here now. If he comes back to the bar, tell him I need him.”
“You okay, Charlie?”
“I just need to talk to Declan as soon as I can.”
Charlie hung up.
Maybe Declan was looking into something connected to the break-ins and he’d just lost track of time. Charlie knew Declan could take care of himself. If he didn’t hear from him in a few hours, then he would start to worry. Right now, he had to focus on Jules.
He tried calling her cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He left a message. “It’s Charlie. I need to know you’re safe. Call me!”
If he hadn’t lost his phone, he could have used it to track hers. He banged the desk in frustration as he remembered the last thing Declan had said to him—‘Don’t Fuck Up’. Well, this was the greatest fuck-up of all times.
“Think, Watts!” he yelled.
His training had taught him that the best way to track a missing person was to review everything you knew about them. Charlie realised that he didn’t actually know a lot about Jules. The assignment hadn’t been to spy on her, it had been to protect her, so he hadn’t done his usual research.
Charlie focused his thoughts. If you’re going to look into someone’s life, you start at home. The only thing he knew about her home was it was apparently well equipped with panic buttons, and the friend of her father’s was staying there. Why hadn’t he gotten the contact information for him?
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
Focus.
Maybe she hadn’t been kidnapped. Maybe she’d just given him the slip and if he was going to give someone the slip—and wasn’t carrying everything he needed to run with—home was the place he’d go. It was as good a place to start as any.
Charlie located the contract with Jules’ father and found what he was looking for. He ran downstairs, got back in his car and drove to the address on file.
Charlie had assumed the house would be an up-scale place, given that Jules had left him with the impression that she came from money. In fact, the home was a fairly plain, two-storey building on a nondescript street in Southwest Calgary.
There were no lights on but Charlie walked up to the front door and rang the bell anyway. There was no response. No Jules. But where was her father’s friend? Maybe he’d taken the night off since Charlie was supposed to be on guard.
Charlie walked around the property and all was quiet. Everything seemed in order, just no Jules.
The clock was ticking. He would have to bite the bullet and call Jules’ father.
Charlie returned to the office, then dialled the number on the contract. It went straight to voicemail. “The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message.”
“Uh, yeah, Mr Slate, I’m calling from Declan Hunt Investigations.
I’m afraid that Jules has given me—oh, I’m Charlie Watts, by the way.
I’m heading up your daughter’s protection detail.
Like I was saying, I’m afraid that Jules got away from me.
I was wondering if you had heard anything from her in the last…
let’s say three hours. Please give me a call.
” He left the office’s number and hung up.
What next? He’d already talked to everyone at the Den & Black. Of the places he and Jules had been today, that only left the coffee shop. He checked the time. It was now well past midnight and the coffee shop would be closed. That would have to wait until morning.
As for calling the police—they wouldn’t do anything until she was missing for over twenty-four hours.
Where the fuck is Declan?
Charlie decided to use the time until Declan got back from wherever he was to track down everything he could about Jules.
His best work wasn’t in the field, it was at the computer keyboard.
He needed to concentrate, but the office was too damned quiet.
Charlie had never been able to focus in the vacuum of silence, so he turned to his computer and pulled up a music streaming app. A song blared out of the speakers—
I just want to have it all
Don’t care if it’s big or small
I just can’t shake it
He started by searching for Jules on Facebook.
He found one account. It was marked as private.
Charlie made a friend request, but if Jules was kidnapped, he knew she wouldn’t be able to acknowledge it.
The photo on the account appeared to be from a birthday party.
Jules was wearing a hat that said ‘Kiss The Birthday Girl’.
She didn’t seem to have an X, or Instagram account and she was completely absent from TikTok. Maybe with the potential of her mother stalking her, she had limited her social media profile to ensure she couldn’t be easily found.
Charlie then did a quick search for information about her mother Sandra Slate, and her alter-ego Gloria, to see if there had been any mention of her being put away, but that was a complete dead end.
While the story Jules had told was disturbing, it was a private family matter and wouldn’t likely have made the papers.
As for Jules’ father, Charlie found a listing on LinkedIn. He was a business development consultant in the mining industry and a graduate of the Harvard Business School. Not much to go on. The profile was strictly professional, with no other personal information.
Where do I go from here?
Charlie pulled up a program he had developed at university that could match names from different sources and identify where they intersected.
He may not be able to find Jules through her Facebook page, but his program could cross-reference her name with the billions of other Facebook profiles and perhaps find places where she had commented on someone else’s page that wasn’t protected.
He would also put in George Slate, Gloria Slate, and Sandra Slate for good measure. The program would run all night, trying to hunt down leads. In the meantime—
I can’t shake it.
This feeling, I can’t take it.
Anymore.
Charlie left his computer and went into Declan’s office.
There was a pad of paper in the centre of his desk with a list of names under the heading ‘Who would like to see me dead’.
A chill ran down Charlie’s spine. It was the list of names Sawchuck had asked for on Wednesday morning.
To actually see a list of people that might want to do his boyfriend harm…
Charlie examined the first entry on the list which he thought had been added as a joke—‘See directory of the Calgary Police Service’.
Charlie knew Declan had some haters on the force from the time that he was a cop, but many of those had moved on.
Charlie also knew that hatred was like a virus—easy to pick up from a few remaining embittered sources, like Gerry McKeckran.
McKeckran had a real hate-on for Declan.
Charlie recognised other names on the list, most from old cases Declan had worked on. Many were in prison but some might still have contacts on the outside that could do some damage. He decided it was best to pass the list on to Gary Sawchuck and let the cops deal with it.
The more he looked at the list, the more Charlie realised that Declan lived a life that was always on the line.
Now they both did. Charlie’s gut told him something was wrong.
Really wrong. The details of the break-ins and the message ‘Come For Me’ swirled in his mind.
What if Declan had discovered something related to the break-in?
Maybe he’d figured out who the man in disguise was.
Worrying wasn’t going to help. He had to pull himself together.
“What would Declan do if the roles were reversed and I was missing?” he asked himself. “First, he’d check on all of my regular haunts.”
Charlie knew Declan wasn’t at Bar-None. Where else could he be? He hated to explore this option, but given the circumstances, he had to. Charlie called The Greek.
“Good evening. May I help you?” a voice answered.
“Hey, Mateo, it’s Charlie Watts.”
“Charlie, long time no hear. How are you?”
“Been better, thanks. I’m looking for Declan. He seems to have gone AWOL. I know you have a no-snitch policy, but I have to ask—is there any chance that he’s there?”
“Oh, Charlie. You know I can’t tell you that. If word ever got out that I told you who was, or in this case wasn’t here, we could lose a lot of business.”
Charlie got the message. “Thanks a lot, Mateo. I understand, and I appreciate your discretion.”
Charlie hung up and stared at the phone. “Oh, you idiot,” he yelled. Charlie had set up their phones so that Declan and Charlie could track each other, similar to what Charlie had done with Jules’ phone. Charlie’s phone might be missing, and he didn’t have Declan’s, but there was a workaround.
Charlie opened Declan’s computer. He had helped Declan set up a remote locating tool for just this situation.
He accessed ‘Find Devices’. It asked for the phone number and the password for the device.
Charlie knew Declan’s passwords better than Declan did.
He just prayed that Declan’s phone was still on.
He entered Declan’s number and password and, lo and behold, a map appeared.
Declan’s phone was at an address in Northwest Calgary that was a fifteen-minute drive away.
Charlie didn’t have time to think about anything else.
He got in his car and drove as fast as he could.
When Charlie arrived at the location, he immediately spotted Declan’s van.
He parked behind it, then did a walk-around, looking in through the windows.
No Declan. He tried the driver’s door. It was locked.
Charlie shrugged. He had his own set of keys.
After a few minutes of searching, he located Declan’s phone in the glove box.
Why would he leave it here?
Then another thought crossed his mind. What if he knew he was in danger? What if he needed me to find it.
Charlie looked up and down the deserted block. So many houses. Declan could be in the house behind the van, or he could be blocks away. It seemed too late to start knocking on doors. He couldn’t handle this alone. He would have to get help.
Charlie locked up the van, went back to his car and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy. It was three a.m. He used Declan’s phone to call Sam and Gwen’s home number.
“If this is a fucking wrong number I will hunt you down.” It was Sam’s voice.
“Sam. It’s Charlie. We have a problem.” Charlie’s voice broke. “Declan’s gone missing and I need your help. We both need your help.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Sam’s voice sounded clinical.
“Mickey, who runs Bar-None, was with him around ten.”
“That was only a few hours ago,” Sam replied. “Why do you think he’s gone missing?”
“Because when I got back to the office, he was gone. I was able to track where his van is, and I’m here now but he’s nowhere to be found. He left his phone on and tucked it away in the glove box. I think he wanted me to find it. This isn’t like him, Sam. I didn’t know who else to call.”
There was a lengthy silence on the other end. He could make out a quiet “Sam, what’s wrong?” It was Gwen.
“Nothing, hun. Go back to sleep,” Sam said, softly.
Charlie heard the sound of what he figured was the bedroom door closing.
After a short time, Sam spoke up at a normal volume.
“Okay, he’s only been missing for…five hours, give or take, and he hasn’t put out a clear call for help—although leaving his phone behind is suspicious.
Anyway, there’s no indication that he is technically missing.
We can’t get the police involved if it’s just that Declan’s gone undercover investigating… or maybe visiting a…friend.”
“Declan doesn’t have a friend, as you put it,” Charlie snapped.
“Look, I don’t know what your personal arrangements are, or are not—”
“And he would never go behind my back and do something like that,” Charlie interrupted. “It wouldn’t make sense. He knew I’d be expecting him at home tonight, and given the break-ins, he’d know…he’d know I’d be worried that something had happened. And it has.”
“All right. Declan wouldn’t do that to you.
Sorry. Okay, I’ll call up Gary Sawchuck and fill him in on what you just told me and I’ll have him put surveillance on Declan’s van.
Why don’t I meet you at your office first thing in the morning.
If nothing’s shifted by then, I’ll make sure they put all forces into action. That sound okay?”
“Yeah,” Charlie mumbled.
“Good. Now, I want you to promise me that you’ll be safe,” Sam said.
“I’ll do my best.”
“What is it with you guys? A simple ‘yes’ just isn’t in your vocabulary. Just don’t do anything too stupid,” he said, then disconnected.
Charlie looked at Declan’s phone in his hand. He checked Declan’s last calls and texts, but there was no sign of anything that was of any help, just a call between Mickey and Declan earlier that night. Declan would normally have texted Charlie at least once during the night. It just seemed strange.
With nothing left to do, Charlie drove back home and went up to the dark apartment…alone.