“Maybe he couldn’t—guilty as charged.”

“No doubt. But I’m wondering why Helen would have said anything to him about our visit.”

“He must have found out about it somehow, but that would mean he keeps real close track of her.”

“I don’t know why he’d care, unless he thinks she suspects he had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance. Which might indicate he did.”

Eric frowned. “Something isn’t right in that house. We have to drop by again sometime when we know Helen’s alone.”

They struck out at their next two unscheduled stops. At the first, no one related to or knowing the missing woman lived there. At the other, a For-Sale sign stood in the yard and the house looked vacant.

A little after four, Eric dropped Lisa off. She got out of the old Cadillac with an abrupt goodbye and hurried to her car. If today was any indication of how much their interviews would accomplish, things weren’t going to move quickly. Lisa drove home, discouraged.

18             

TJ and Jeff started out with five appointments. Two of the women listed as missing turned out to be accounted for. One they found at home, had even answered the door. The woman was still living with the same loser. TJ would have made book on the woman still being knocked around. How could women be so stupid? She thought of what she and her sister had been through with Janeen’s husband, Mario. But she wouldn’t dredge up ancient history; she had to stay focused.

Two husbands of the women on their list had still been at the same addresses as when the wives went missing. The first one, Rodney Whitman, had gotten a divorce after his wife disappeared, and the replacement wife answered the door followed by three little kids. Their house on west Capitol Drive had been neat and well kept, and the wife had no signs of scars or bruising. Rodney had been interested and respectful, had given them no attitude, and quickly dug out a photo of Kayeesha when they’d asked if he had one he could spare.

“Listen, I’d never hurt Kayeesha. I loved her. That 911 call was a mistake.”

“Mistake? How so?”

“My brother, Trent? He’s a nice guy, but he was using then. After he got out of rehab, he begged to stay with us for a few days. Him and his lady. She’s the one made the call—about him. He was still on parole, so they took off together as soon as they heard the siren approaching. That’s the God’s truth.”

TJ would have to find out who’d caught the case back then and get their impression of Rodney’s story. He wouldn’t be the only one she’d have to check out with MPD. She’d have to do a lot of ass kissing, or buy a lot of drinks. Buying drinks sounded like the better option.

The next husband, Ames Jackson, had been another story. TJ chuckled to herself at Jeff’s reaction to the huge, thick-muscled, ebony-black man who’d answered the door. Jeff practically hid behind her. Who was safeguarding who?

Lot of attitude from that one. He admitted to slapping his wife around, but said she needed it. “The bitch had an eye for the dudes, ya know?”

TJ wanted to throttle the bastard. The big man remained adamant, however, on the disappearance of his wife Tonya, and told them if he found out who killed her, or who she ran away with, he’d “kill the motherfucker.” TJ didn’t doubt the claim.

Jeff, who hadn’t said a word since they walked in, said quietly, “That must have been difficult for you when she disappeared. I‘m sorry for your loss.”

TJ cringed. She’d told Jeff to stay dummied up. For a moment, the big man looked at Jeff like he was from another planet, then his dark features slowly relaxed. When she’d introduced Jeff, TJ had mentioned he also had a missing wife.

Jackson stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and sat down in a worn leather recliner. He looked up at Jeff. “Yeah, it’s been rough. My mom keeps the kids for me during the week, but they really miss their mom.”

Before they left he gave them a photo of Tonya and wished Jeff well, saying he hoped his wife showed up. TJ was amazed Jeff had actually been an advantage.

At the fifth appointment, the woman’s sister answered the door. Becca Wright had been missing for three years. Her husband had taken off a year ago and left the sister, Marissa, to raise the child, a girl who looked about ten.

“Yeah, Jess punched her out a few times when he’d been drinkin’. He’d be a good guy the rest o’ the time. But his buddies always got him started. Told him he was ‘whipped.’”

“Do you think he had something to do with her disappearance?”

“Nah, he didn’t have the balls to kill anybody, not even Becca.” Marissa handed them a photo as they left and told them she missed Becca and still hoped she’d come home one day soon.

All in all, it had been a successful day. Jeff had been in good spirits, even bought TJ lunch at her favorite rib place on Silver Spring Drive. Nothing like Richard, who was always catching her off-guard with his moods, Jeff seemed to be a pretty easygoing guy, except when a wave of sadness hit him.

Normally, when TJ found herself alone on a Sunday night, she’d call Richard; they’d go to a movie or maybe out for a few drinks. She had too much on her mind tonight to sit through a movie, or worse, hang in a bar. Keeping things from Richard had become more difficult as the days passed. She didn’t always share everything with him, but this was the kind of thing she’d have liked his input on.

The meeting that morning had gone well. They had four possibles on their short list and photos of all four. Three without Emma Fischer, but TJ wasn’t ready to acquiesce to Steven Fischer as Emma’s murderer.

There were no commonalities among the four women, except their all being strikingly pretty. She hated how they were going to be sidetracked by the Steven Fischer situation. TJ wanted to find the jerk and deal with him herself, convince him he’d be happier living in Podunk, Arizona.

But they were bound to come across scum-suckers when researching abused women. She just didn’t want them to lose sight of their goal.

19

Six years earlier

After he checked into his hotel, he put a bottle of wine in the refrigerator to chill and made sure he had everything ready for his evening with Allyson. When he left to pick her up after the reunion dance, it started to snow, big wet flakes that stuck to the ground, layering it with slush. At the campus, it didn’t take him long to find the building hosting the reunion; across its front a large sign, soggy with the wet snow, welcomed the attendees.

At eleven, when people started coming out of the building, the snow was coming down harder than ever. They gathered in groups, saying their goodbyes and laughing at finding themselves in the middle of a snowstorm in April. He grew impatient. He’d been waiting since ten, cruising the parking lot regularly before finding a spot near the exit she planned to use. He watched as she came out of the building, walking with three other people.

She glanced his way. Just when he was sure she’d seen him, a dark-haired man approached her and grabbed her arm. Allyson pulled away from him. He reached for her again until some people from the group next to them interfered, forcing the guy to leave Allyson alone.

When the black-haired man walked away, she ran for the car and jumped in next to him. “Hurry! Drive away from here.”

Mystified, he drove away from the college, while Allyson crouched down in the seat, trying not to be seen. “I’m sorry—I should have told you. I just broke up with my boyfriend last month and he won’t leave me alone. I filed a restraining order, but he ignores it.”