Chapter 13 Jake #3
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He began backing away. “You both have a good lunch. Char, I’ll speak to you soon.”
“See you, Jake.”
Jake returned to the surf shop, Randy nowhere in sight, probably fixing himself lunch out back.
He retrieved his belongings from the locker and checked his cell while hauling on the green T-shirt.
Along with various new texts, a couple of WhatsApps, and several Facebook messages, he had three missed calls and a new voicemail, all from Detective Banks.
Shit. Maybe there was some news.
He punched in his voicemail code, slipping on his flip-flops.
“Mr. Johnson, this is Detective Adam Banks of the Wilmington PD. We stopped by your house to see you this morning, but you weren’t home, and we need to speak with you.
We’ll stop by again at 1 p.m. today. It’s currently 11:20 a.m. Please call me back if you won’t be home so we can arrange a different time. ”
Fuck. Something was definitely up.
And was it Jake’s imagination, or had Detective Banks’ voice taken on a grim tone he hadn’t used before?
He’d have to get home right away. Maybe this was the day the police told him Liv’s body had been found? Or maybe it was better news?
Jake raced to his car and headed home. He showered, changed, and chugged a pint of water. He hadn’t eaten anything today, but his stomach was in knots.
At exactly 1 p.m., there was a firm knock on the door. When Jake opened it, Detective Banks and Officer Phelps were standing on his porch, just as expected. But they hadn’t come alone.
Five, maybe six officers were talking to each other, leaning on the hoods of their vehicles. One was drinking out of a flask.
What the hell?
“Uh, hi?”
Detective Banks moved into sight, blocking his view momentarily. “Mr. Johnson, thanks for making yourself available. May we come in?”
Jake glanced over the man’s shoulder. “Sure.” He stood aside to let the two men enter, Detective Banks stopping by the white couch, his young trainee hovering near the door.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked.
Detective Banks took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t explain in my message.
There’s been no further developments with regard to Olivia’s whereabouts, so let me first put your mind at ease about that.
This isn’t bad news. But that means we do need to take our investigation to the next level, which is a process of elimination for any and all related parties and potential witnesses.
“To that end, we’ve secured several search warrants, both physical and forensic, for your home and vehicle, and the same for the hiker you met, Kirk Evans. You saw my team outside.” He gestured through the window at them.
“Essentially this will involve officers searching your house and car for any evidence, with our forensics team searching for any trace elements that may be of concern. I also have a warrant to take your smartphone, tablet, laptop, and any other similar items of interest. We’ll conduct a forensic search before we return them to you.
” He held out two official-looking printouts, taking an almost-apologetic step toward Jake.
“The truth is, if you had nothing to do with Liv’s disappearance, which I believe you don’t, there’s no need to be concerned. This will help eliminate you from our inquiries, okay? But we have to do this due diligence. I’m sure you understand.”
Jake took the sheets of paper and sat down in the gray armchair to read the words, but they slipped through his head in no particular order.
Official.
Warrant.
Search.
Court.
He’d seen many warrants during his legal training, and these looked standard. But he wasn’t in the headspace to be an impartial judge.
Should he call a lawyer?
“Okay,” he said, slowly. “I get why you couldn’t tell me this in advance. It’s not something you can warn a person about. But I have nothing to hide.” He looked up at each of the cops in turn. The young one looked as overwhelmed as ever. “Do your worst. Do you need me to leave?”
Detective Banks gave him a grateful, close-lipped smile. “No, you’re good. Hang out on the couch, drink coffee, read a book. Move seats if anybody asks you to.”
He held out his hand to Jake. He was wearing Nitrile gloves. When had he put those on? “Your phone?”
Jake slipped it out of his pocket, unlocked the screen, and handed it over. “It’s been blowing up ever since the press conference,” he said. “Everyone I ever met seems to want a piece of this.”
Detective Banks nodded sympathetically. “It’s to be expected.” He gave his young colleague a look and Officer Phelps opened the front door. Moments later, the other cops entered the room, taking it over, making the usually airy space seem tiny.
A woman in a dark suit, surely uncomfortable on this hot day, took Jake’s phone from Detective Banks. She typed something into it, presumably to stop it locking again, and placed it in the gray plastic box she carried.
Detective Banks gave Jake another apologetic smile, before moving away.
“Make yourself comfortable, Jake. This could take a while.”