Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (24 page)

"I wish he'd hurry up. We're dying here." After Peter ended the call, he sat, tapping his notebook with his pen, agitated. He tried Lia one more time. He
broke down and called Anna.

"No," Anna said, "I haven't seen Lia since earlier this afternoon. She wanted to go see a movie at the Esquire, but we wound up going out for drinks at The
Painted Fish with Marie instead. I left before they did. Maybe they decided to catch a film after all, and she turned her phone off. She probably forgot to
turn it back on again."

"Yeah, I bet that's it," Peter said, but he was lying. "Thanks, Anna." He hung up, and called Marie. She said she'd waved goodbye to Lia in front of the
restaurant and knew nothing about a movie. He sat, tapping. It wasn't like he and Lia were joined at the hip, and they'd had that fight. This wasn't the
first time her phone had been dead or off. Lia just didn't see her cell phone as the life line most people considered it to be. But lately she'd been
better about letting him know what she was up to, and he hoped she wouldn't go off in a snit.

She'd resisted his babysitting. He knew he hadn't given her much room. What else can you do when you suspect your girlfriend is hanging out with a violent
offender? He'd take a half hour to finish up paperwork. If she wasn't home then, he was going to look for her, whether she liked it or not. The rest of the
reports could go hang.

Lia's car was not on the street in its usual spot. He was greeted at the front door by a trio of housebound canines desperate for a potty break. They
barked and raced for the back door, running back and forth, urging him to let them out. The scrabbling of their claws on the hardwood floor echoed his own
rising urgency. He watched as they erupted from the house, each making a beeline for their favorite spot in the lawn. This was not good. Lia obviously
hadn't been there for hours. He wished it could be that easy for him to get relief as he watched the pack spill their bladders on the grass.

He checked Lia's answering machine. There was a message from Anna, asking Lia to call when she got in. He pondered his options as he fed the dogs. Anna said Lia probably went to the Esquire. He'd ask Jim to make some calls while he looked for Lia's car in Clifton. It could be in the merchant's lot, or somewhere in the residential neighborhood behind the theater.

He grabbed a snapshot of Lia off the refrigerator, snagged her spare car keys out of the dish by the door and dialed Jim on his way out. The dogs abandoned their supper dishes and howled at the window as he pulled away.

Peter eventually found Lia's dilapidated Volvo a few blocks off Ludlow on Telford. It was dinner time, and the street was bumper to bumper with parked
cars. Peter parked in the nearest drive, figuring he could flash his badge if he needed to calm an irate homeowner.

He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and used Lia's spare key to unlock the door. A quick glance showed nothing out of place. He wanted to sit in the
driver's seat to see if the seat or the mirror had been readjusted for someone shorter than Lia, but decided he didn't want to foul up any trace that might
be on the upholstery. He felt around under the driver's seat and found Lia's cell phone on the side closest the door, where it might have fallen out of her
pocket. The phone was off. He turned it on. There were no messages. He turned it off again and placed it back where he found it. He locked the car.

Should he knock on some doors? If Lia was just taking in a movie, she'd freak if she found out he was asking random people about her. And this neighborhood
was mostly two income, white-collar families. Little likelihood of anyone seeing anything during the day. While it was way too early for an official missing
person's report, he knew Lia would never leave the dogs alone for so long. No matter how angry she was with him. Still, he had to go through the steps.

He moved his car to the first available spot and hiked back to the renovated art-deco movie theater. Of the three clerks on duty, two recognized Lia, but
no one had seen her that day. Peter slipped the photo back in his pocket and left. He mentally imagined himself slamming his fist through the community
bulletin board at the corner of Telford and Ludlow.

He called Jim. Jim had canvassed Nadine, Jose, Renee. The latest anyone had seen Lia was around 8:30 a.m., at the park. "Meet me back at Lia's," he said,
and hung up the phone.

Peter knew from experience that going off on a tear would not accomplish anything. He tamped down his frustration. Food. The hungrier he got, the more
likely he was to let anger get the better of him. It was going to be a long night, and forgetting to eat never helped. He picked up a case of sliders at
Knowlton's Corner and headed back to the place he was thinking of as home.

Jim was waiting for him when he arrived. Peter let him in and tossed the case down on the kitchen table. They let the dogs out. Peter pulled two cokes out
of the fridge. "You had any dinner?"

"Not yet."

"Dig in. Want a coke?"

"Lia's missing and you're thinking about food?"

"I'm about to spaz out like a monkey in a meth lab. So we sit down and talk about what's next." He set one coke down in front of Jim.

"Okay."

"And we fuel up. Have a slider. Or five."

"No fries?"

"Fries require too long to eat."

They sat and ate. Peter concentrated on breathing slowly and chewing his food. After he downed a half-dozen miniature cheeseburgers he sat back. "Do we
have any reason to believe it's anyone but Marie?"

"We've never gotten anything significant on anyone else. Why do you ask?"

"Because if we focus all our attention on her and we're wrong, it could cost Lia her life."

"What did you have in mind?"

"We now have genuine reason for alarm, and Marie's the last person to see her. It makes sense to stop by to ask her in detail about her afternoon with Lia.
What I really want is to get inside her house, see if she'll let us in, if she's nervous, anything like that."

"You think Lia's tied up in the basement?"

"Could be. But I don't think she'd kill Lia in her own house."

"Why not?"

"Bucky's too smart. If Marie is Bucky, she won't want to chance leaving any blood behind. So if Lia's in the house, she'll have to move Lia before she
kills her. And if Lia's not in the house, Marie hasn't had enough time to move her, kill her and dispose of her. She's got to go to her before long. So
after we talk to her, we watch the house and when she leaves, we follow."

"Won't she recognize your car?"

"That's why you're going to follow me while I go over and swap cars with Brent. I'll park his car down the block from Marie's. You pick me up, then we go
see her. After we talk to her, we'll park your car on the next block, then walk back to Brent's car and keep watch. Scratch that. Are you up to keeping
watch on your own?"

"I suppose so. Why?"

"We'd better interview Anna and watch her, too. Just in case."

"What about Nadine? She knew where Lia was going to be this afternoon," Jim asked.

"I think we can cut Nadine out. If I'm right, something happened today to set Bucky off. Lia hasn't seen Nadine or talked to her since the park this
morning. Whatever happened, it's not likely it happened at the park, in front of a lot of people. Lia spent time alone with both Marie and Anna today."

"Makes sense. What do I do?"

Follow my lead in the interviews. You act as sincere as possible. We've got to be careful. We don't want either of them to think we suspect them. After
that, you park down the block from Anna and keep an eye on her house. Call me if there's any movement."

"You going to call them first?"

"And warn them? Don't think so."

Peter set the house phone to forward all calls to his cell. He packed up two surveillance survival kits.

"What's the mason jar for?" Jim asked.

"Bladder emergencies."

"Oh. Maybe you shouldn't be packing up all the cokes."

"We'll need the sugar and the caffeine. It could be a long night." Peter pulled a baggie of kale chips out of the cabinet, grimaced and tossed it into his
bag.

"You really think we're going to need all this?"

"I hope not, but if we do, we're stuck. Better to have it. Do you want me to split the nacho flavored Doritos with you?"

Anna responded to the doorbell with an expression of polite surprise. "Jim, Peter, what brings you here?"

"Lia is missing," Peter said. "Can we come in?"

Anna stepped back from the door. "Come on in. I can't believe she hasn't shown up yet."

"We don't know where else to look," Peter said. "We're hoping you can give us some ideas." Peter kept his eyes on her face, searching her expression for
clues.

"What about the Esquire?" Anna asked.

"Her car's down on Telford, but they haven't seen her. Can you think of anything she might have said when you were with her today?"

"I don't know what to tell you. I know you argued last night, but she didn't really talk about it. She wanted an escape, I think. We were just having girl
talk and being a bit giddy. She didn't say anything about her plans, except what I told you earlier about the movie. What are you going to do?"

"Until I can file a missing person's report, we've done all we can do. We'll have to hang tight." Peter and Jim stood to leave.

Anna touched his arm. "This isn't like Lia at all. I can imagine how worried you must be. What can I do to help? Have you had anything to eat? I could fix
you a sandwich."

"We're fine. If she's still gone tomorrow, you can help us canvass around Clifton. If she contacts you, will you call me?"

"Certainly." Jim gave her a pained expression as he and Peter walked out the door. He looked back and saw Anna's face in the window as they drove away.

Marie looked puzzled when she answered the door. "Hey, what's up?"

"Lia is still missing," Peter said. "Can we come in?"

Marie stepped back from the door and pointed to the couch. "Sit down. Tell me what's happening."

"We've called everyone we can think of," Jim said. "Peter says you're the last person to see her."

"Did you try the Esquire?" Marie asked.

"I found her car," Peter said. "No one working at the Esquire has seen her. We need to know everything you can tell us about this afternoon."

Marie pursed her lips. "Let's see . . . she said you had a fight. We had some drinks and got a little drunk. She seemed more frustrated than angry. We gave
her every opportunity to trash you and she didn't, in case you want to know. Are you sure she's really missing? It's only been a few hours."

"The dogs were left in the house all day," Jim said. "You know she wouldn't do that."

"No, she wouldn't. What will you do?" Marie asked.

"I can't file a missing person's report until tomorrow. Until then, I guess we've done all we can. We'll have to hang tight." Peter sighed and stood to
leave.

Marie held the door open for him. "Look, is there anything I can do? I'd like to help."

"There's nothing right now. You can help us knock on doors tomorrow if she's still gone. If she calls, will you let me know?"

"Sure." She wrote his number down, then watched worriedly as Jim pulled out of the drive.

Jim drove around the block, then let Peter out on the corner by Brent's car. "Call me when you get into place at Anna's," Peter said.

"You bet."

It was dark when Lia opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, knees tucked up, arms pulled behind her back. Her head pounded. Something, a cloth, was
jammed into her mouth, a gag of some sort. Her hands were numb and her arms were screaming in pain. She realized her wrists were tied together, with
something soft. Pantyhose? Same with her feet.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Admit it, Anderson, you are an idiot.
Why hadn't she listened to Peter? He'd said there was a murderer running around. She'd jokingly named him Bucky. Why hadn't she paid attention? Why had she let her loyalties and
emotions get the better of her?

She couldn't remember how she got wherever she was. Nothing made sense. She shoved against the cloth in her mouth with her tongue. No good. Whatever was
tied around her head was too tight. The cloth tasted like nylon. More pantyhose? She was revolted at the thought and shoved it away. She tried to call for
help around the gag. It came out sounding like "el." She kept this up until her throat became scratchy. There was no response.

She reached back into her
memory. The last thing she remembered was having drinks with Anna and Marie, Anna leaving, then waving good-bye to Marie. . . then . . . nothing.

She felt the concrete floor and imagined she was in a basement, or a garage. Where else could she be? Then she noticed the pale rectangles of light cast
onto the floor from the windows. Large, industrial windows, covered with a dense steel mesh.

Who could have done this to her? Neither Marie nor Anna were strong enough to carry her into a place like this.

It took several minutes of wiggling and contortions. Finally she was sitting upright. She shoved with her feet until she felt a wall behind her. She was
still captive but it felt like a victory to get her face off the dirty concrete floor.

She rested against the wall and breathed deeply to keep down the panic.
Think, think, think.
What should she do? What could she do? She had to do
something. She wasn't going to be a victim again.

She took in her surroundings as best she could in the dark. She knew she was in an industrial building of some sort, with the concrete floors, steel mesh
over the windows and the lingering scent of machine oil. There was a doorway to her left, with the door off the hinges, leaning against the wall on the far
side. Otherwise, it was empty. It was a large room, maybe thirty by thirty feet?

She should try to get loose. But how? She needed something sharp. If there was something, anything small and heavy on the floor, could she pick it up with
her feet and fling it at the windows with enough force to break the glass? Doubtful.