Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (28 page)

“What’s the report?”

“The house is quiet. A couple of lights are on, but I’m not seeing any movement. No one has come and gone since I’ve been here. No cars are parked out front, but there’s a big garage, so the cars could be in there.”

“I didn’t get the subpoena to search, so we’ll have to bring Goodbe in for questioning. I’m on my way.”

Goodbe lived in a new subdivision in the North Delta area, bordered by a golf course and a river. The homes were newer and nicer than in Jackson’s neighborhood, but they didn’t have mature trees or real backyards. Jackson shut off his engine and checked his watch: 10:52 p.m. Anyone in the house was likely sleeping. Too bad. He would have liked to be in bed too, preferably with Kera, but he was trying to find a missing young woman and he was willing to inconvenience anyone in the process.

McCray climbed out of a car across the street and trotted over. They strode up the sidewalk together, and Jackson gave the door a good pounding. His patience had expired hours ago. After ten seconds, he pounded again. Finally, a female voice on the other side said, “Go away, or I’m calling the police.”

“We are the police. We want to talk to Elias Goodbe.”

After a long pause the woman said, “He’s not here.”

“What’s your name?”

“Doris Goodbe.”

“Will you open the door and talk to us please?”

The porch light came on and the door slid open a crack, still secured by a heavy chain link. “Let me see your badges.”

As they held up their badges to her line of sight, Jackson asked, “Where is Elias?”

“He’s on a business trip.” Through the crack, he guessed her age at sixty, with short iron-gray hair and a thick body.

“I just saw him today, so I’m not buying it. Please go get him.”

“He left late this afternoon. The trip came up unexpectedly.” Doris made no move to open the door further.

“Where did he go?”

“Seattle, I think.”

“Did he fly?”

“I assume so.”

“Where is he staying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Give me his cell phone number.”

“I’d rather not.”

Jackson tensed. “Your husband may be involved in the kidnapping of a young woman. If you protect him or hinder our investigation, we’ll charge you with accessory.”

She slammed the door and they heard her footsteps moving away.

“That didn’t go well,” McCray commented. “Can we believe what she said about Seattle?”

“Maybe. I’ll go back to headquarters and start calling airlines. I need you to stay here until Evans relieves you. I told her to be out here by two this morning.”

“No problem. I’ve got my iPod with me. My daughter gave it to me for Christmas. Love the damn thing.” Under the porch light, McCray’s weather-beaten face looked serene, and Jackson was relieved. He hated making the older man work this late. Although McCray never complained. None of his team did. That’s why he chose to work with them again and again.

Back at his desk, Jackson dug out his Vivarin and swallowed one with a long drink of water. He’d started to get sleepy on the drive back and he couldn’t afford that. He wouldn’t rest until he had some idea of where to find Elias Goodbe or Danette Blake.

Only five airlines had service out of Eugene. In theory, it wouldn’t take long to determine if Goodbe had left town on a plane. If he’d driven to the Portland airport a hundred miles north, there would be many more options. For that matter, Goodbe could have driven to Seattle. Or taken the train to Santa Fe. Or maybe he was pacing his house in the dark trying to figure how to get past the cop parked outside.

Jackson rubbed his eyes and forced himself to focus. He keyed United Airlines into Google and quickly found a phone number. Now to convince a low-paid service personnel to tell him what he needed to know.

After Jackson stated his case, the young female operator said she would help but she insisted on hanging up and calling the department directly to verify he was a police officer. Jackson didn’t mind. He respected smart citizens who didn’t let themselves get conned. He drummed his desk while he waited for the callback. Only one other detective was still at his desk from the night shift. Michael Quince was also one of his top choices. Jackson considered recruiting him to help make calls, then changed his mind.

In a moment the clerk called back, and Jackson learned United Airlines had not booked a flight for Elias Goodbe for today, tomorrow, or any time in the future.

Four calls and forty minutes later, he knew for certain Goodbe had not booked a flight out of Eugene. His wife had lied. No surprise. Actually, she’d said, “I assume so,” when he’d asked about a flight. It was possible Doris didn’t know what her husband was up to or exactly where he was.

It occurred to Jackson he might have spooked Goodbe when he stopped at the center earlier that day asking questions.
Oh crap
. Was his suspect on his way to the Cayman Islands or some other place where he could assume a new identity, disappear into the population, then pick up where he left off? Jackson suspected Goodbe had done that once already when he moved to Eugene. Also the name, Goodbe. The bastard must have gotten a kick out of calling himself that. Or had he really intended to start over and live the good life?

Jackson called the Greyhound station and Amtrak just to cover the bases. Neither had sold Goodbe a ticket recently. Their suspect had packed his car and driven away this evening while they were eating sandwiches and looking at Seth Valder’s phone records.

Damn
! Jackson smacked his fist against the desktop. In the quiet open space, it sounded louder than he’d expected. It also startled Quince, who jumped out his chair.

“Sorry. Just expressing a little frustration.”

Quince, who was ridiculously handsome for a cop, took his hand off his weapon and walked over. “Can I help with anything?”

“Thanks, but I think I’m going home to sleep for a while.”

On his way out, Jackson reminded himself that looking at Valder’s phone records had led them to Goodbe. He had done everything he could, when he could. He wasn’t giving up. In the morning, he would call his contact at the DMV, who worked Saturdays at the branch in the Valley River mall. Once he had Goodbe’s vehicles, he’d put out a bulletin for him.

After driving for ten minutes, Jackson realized he was headed toward Kera’s instead of Harris Street. Katie was still at Kera’s so there was no reason to go home to his empty house. He needed to wrap his arms around Kera and feel her warm skin on his. He needed to soak in some of her energy and wake up feeling human. Jackson would have liked to make love to her as well, but he was so tired he didn’t think he could make it happen.

He would lie there with her and dream about it.

Chapter 27

Saturday, April 11, 5:36 a.m.

Jackson woke to the sound of a baby crying and felt disoriented. Where the hell was he? He smelled Kera’s fruit-scented hair and remembered coming over. They scurried out of bed simultaneously. Kera grabbed her robe and headed for the crib in the corner and Jackson grabbed his pants, starting the day feeling guilty. His partners had pulled an overnight surveillance shift while he slept with Kera for a few hours. Oh well, he would make Evans take the night off and go on her date with the artist.

As he reached for his shirt, Kera came back with the baby. “It’s so good to have you here.” She kissed him with Micah squawking in both their ears.

“You know I have to run?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “You have a clean shirt in the closet.”

Jackson decided to take a quick shower before putting on most of yesterday’s clothes. He gulped down a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, while Kera gave Micah a bottle.

“Tell me what you know about Danette, please.”

Jackson didn’t blame her for asking. He trusted Kera more than he’d ever trusted anyone. Still, she wasn’t a cop. “This information is completely confidential.”

“Of course.” Kera nodded and sipped her coffee.

“Courtney Durham paid to have herself kidnapped just for the thrill. She was seeing the same shrink as Danette. The guy who did the abduction is not very bright and he grabbed Danette by mistake because she had taken Courtney’s cancelled appointment.”

Jackson watched her process the information.

After a moment of stunned silence, Kera said, “Now Courtney is dead and Danette is missing. What happened?”

“That’s the part I don’t know yet.” Jackson hesitated. “I was pretty sure Danette had been murdered just to silence her, but now I have a little hope she might still be alive.”

“That would be glorious.” Kera bit her lip. “What should I tell Maggie when she calls? She checks in with me every day, asking about the investigation.”

“Tell her we found Danette’s car and we still hope to find her daughter too.”

Kera started to ask another question, but Jackson stood. “I have to get rolling.”

“Okay. Go find her.”

“Say hi to Katie for me when she gets up. Tell her I’ll call her later.” Jackson kissed Kera and the baby. “Thanks for letting Katie stay here. Something is going on with Renee, and Katie doesn’t seem to want to be over there.”

“Do you think Renee’s drinking again?”

“Probably.” Jackson had been avoiding the thought.

“Poor Katie. It must be hard on her to get her hopes up, then be disappointed again and again.”

“It sucks and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

The early sky was pale blue and the air smelled of fresh-cut grass. Eugene was warming up for another gorgeous spring day. Jackson wished he could stop and savor the moment. Not this morning.

On the way down the hill, he called Stacy Garrett, a woman who worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles. He’d met her when her brother had been murdered and he’d found and arrested the killer. He knew Stacy wasn’t at work yet. Hell, she might not even be up. He checked his cell phone for the time: 6:02 a.m. After three rings, he left a message: “Stacy, it’s Wade Jackson. Sorry for the wake-up call. I’m looking for a woman who’s been kidnapped, and I need you to do me a huge favor. Go in to work early and see if you can find Elias Goodbe. I need to know what he’s driving ASAP.”

As he neared downtown, Jackson called Evans. “Good morning. Everything okay?”

“You sound chipper. Did you get laid?”

“Jesus, Evans. I got some much-needed sleep. I’ll send a patrol unit out there, so you can go home and do the same.”

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Elias Goodbe. I’ve got a call in to the DMV.”

“It’s open today?”

“The little office at Valley River Center is.”

“Call me when you need me.”

While he waited to hear from Stacy, Jackson reworked the subpoena for Goodbe, planning to take it to Judge Volcansek, who might be more inclined to sign it. As a woman she might empathize more with an abducted woman’s situation. Unless Judge Volcansek also knew Goodbe personally.

Jackson wolfed down a pastry and chugged a tall black coffee. Should he call the judge this early on Saturday? She hadn’t returned his call last night and pissing her off wouldn’t work to his advantage.

Instead, he left a message for Sergeant Lammers, updating her on the case.

Just as he reached for his desk phone to call the judge, his cell phone rang.

“It’s Stacy Garrett. I’ve never been to work this early before. It’s kind of weird. The mall cops didn’t want to let me in.”

“Thanks for doing this. What did you find out?”

“Elias Goodbe has a blue 2005 Chrysler Sebring and a gray 2006 Honda Odyssey. Both cars are registered to him and Doris Goodbe.”

Jackson asked her to repeat the info as he wrote it down. “Anything interesting in his file?”

“Hmm.” There was a pause while she looked. “I don’t know if this is what you mean by interesting, but he also has a boat registered with the state.”

“What kind of boat?”

“It’s listed as a sixty-foot Altima. I think that’s a small yacht.”

“That is interesting. Does it say where he keeps it?”

“It’s docked at the marina in Florence.”

“You don’t have a slip number do you?”

“No, you’ll have to contact the marina.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

Jackson put out an attempt-to-locate on both vehicles and a description of Goodbe with instructions to apprehend, then he called Schak. It took the big man six rings to pick up and grunt into the phone.

“Ready for a trip to Florence?”

“What’s going on?”

“Goodbe didn’t get on a plane, train, or bus from Eugene yesterday. At least not using his own name. I found out this morning he owns a boat and keeps it docked at the marina in Florence. So we’re going over to check it out.”

“Have you called the marina?”

“That’s next. I thought I’d give you a few minutes to get ready.”

“Will do.”

Jackson found the marina’s number with a quick Google search. No one answered and there was no option to leave a voicemail. Not surprising. It was early Saturday morning and Florence was a small coastal town with limited resources.

What next? Should he get the Florence police involved? He had so little evidence to go on. If Goodbe was taking a cruise, he was likely leaving this morning. Or had left already.

He Googled the Florence police department because it was faster than using the database. When someone finally answered, Jackson identified himself and asked to speak to the highest ranking person in the office.

“That would be me. In fact, I’m the only person in the office right now.”

“Who are you?”

“Officer Janice Miller.” She sounded too young to be left alone in a police department.

“I’m trying to locate a man who may have kidnapped a young woman. His name is Elias Goodbe and he has a sixty-foot Altima that may be sitting in your marina. Can you get a uniform officer over there to look for the boat and stop it if it tries to leave?”

“I’ll need a little more information. What slip is it in?”

“I don’t know. The marina didn’t answer my call this morning.” Jackson started for the stairs as he talked.

“What’s her name?”