Gone (28 page)

“One of the parents found it hidden somewhere,” Brownley went on. “Knew it didn’t belong to their kid and turned it in. When ID came back to Sara McCowan we were all over it, and the two boys. Of course, by the time the phone was turned in and checked, another couple of weeks went by. Checking phone IDs isn’t a priority here.”

“What about her cell phone records?” Clare asked. “Calls to Farley?”

“We tried to get a bead on her through her cell phone use as soon as we had cause to get the records released from her service provider,” Brownley said. “Cell phone use showed the boys had run up a hell of a lot of calls to 1-900 numbers and to European and Asian countries—who the hell knew why. When we got through their muck and to Sara’s calls, there was no one we couldn’t identify. And zero calls to or from Farley. We found nothing at all about this man she claimed to have met, and been seeing. It was like he was invisible. We thought who takes such great care to make sure he can’t be linked to a woman he’s seeing. We figured either the guy was married, like one of Sara’s girlfriends suggested, or he was into something illegal. Thinking that though didn’t help us find him.”

“Sara’s parents had been hoping for a ransom demand,” Stokes said. “Sara didn’t come from money, but still, the possibility wasn’t ruled out, at least not until so much time passed and no one got in contact with the McCowans.

“Brownley and me were afraid that Sara’s disappearance was going to be the first of others—that we had someone targeting young, pretty college girls,” Stokes continued. “But no one else went missing under similar circumstances. To this day, we don’t have a clue what happened to Sara. Why she was singled out. Or by whom.”

Brownley shook his head slowly. “We made an appeal through the media, asking the man that Sara had been seeing to come forward—that we just wanted to talk with him—that he could be instrumental in helping us find her. No one responded. We appealed to the public, with the same spiel—saying the guy wasn’t wanted for anything—we just wanted to talk with him—to ask for his help. Nothing.”

“Sara’s parents put up a reward.” Stokes shrugged. “Again, nothing.” He looked to Jake. “You said Sara’s disappearance was flagged in connection with the recent disappearance of a woman from Farley?”

“Yes,” Jake said.

“What about the cab companies?” Clare asked. “There isn’t one in Farley. Was it determined if Sara called a cab company outside of Farley and used that same mode of transportation out of town?”

“We didn’t find the one that drove her back,” Stokes said.

Clare took that as a no, it had not been determined.

* * * * *

Back at his house, Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to hit the shower. If you want to start nuking the food, I won’t be long.”

They had picked up Chinese takeout from a place in Columbia that Jake knew of. He cleared a space on the kitchen table, where Sammie had left crayons and paper that morning, then set the two bulging bags down. Clare removed a carton of egg rolls from one bag, emptied them onto a plate, then placed it in the microwave. She set the timer, then leaned back against the counter to wait.

Jake finished showering then went to the Norths. Clare had everything warmed by the time he returned with Sammie.

Later, after the dinner had been eaten and the dishes cleared, Sammie bathed and down for the night, Jake and Clare sat down at Jake’s dining room table with the notes and files from Sara McCowan’s case. Papers pertaining to Sara’s missing person investigation were spread end-to-end on the table. Stokes and Brownley had given them a copy of a file they’d compiled. Among the documents was a map of the areas singled out for investigation both in Farley and Columbia, and the surrounding areas. Red marker circled significant sites, the location where the cab had dropped Sara off on Main Street, the drug store and surplus store where she’d been seen.

The search for Sara shifted to Columbia when her cell phone records showed calls made from that city after she’d been seen in Farley. Most of the information contained in the file covered the Columbia leg of the investigation.

The area where her purse was found was combed, but if Sara had been abducted there, it was far too late to establish a crime scene.

Jake was seated beside Clare at the table. She turned to him. “We don’t know for sure that Sara ever returned to Columbia. I keep coming back to that. It’s possible that she had not been in the area where her purse was found after her sighting in Farley. Also possible that whoever took Sara had simply left her phone there to muddy the waters of the investigation and focus the attention out of Farley. It’s possible the investigation was taken out of Farley prematurely.”

Jake glanced up from a page he was reading. “The last call on her cell phone that we can attribute to her, rather than to the boys, was made on the day she was seen in Farley—the call to the cab company from her motel in Columbia to arrange the drive to town. I don’t like that we have no proof of Sara’s return to Columbia, either.”

“We need to retrace her steps on the day she arrived in Farley,” she said. Clare’s cell phone rang. “Hold that thought.”

She read the caller ID and frowned. Her caller was Supervisory Special Agent Miles Cohen, her boss. Why would he be calling?

Clare flipped open the phone. “Hello, sir.”

“Agent Marshall,” Cohen said, “it’s been brought to my attention that you recently reported your sister missing. How is the investigation progressing?”

“We’re pursuing a number of leads.”

“I’ve read the missing person’s report you filed,” Cohen went on. “At this point, you have no evidence of foul play in her disappearance, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir—however—”

“The Bureau has received a complaint about your conduct in Farley,” Cohen interrupted. “Specifically, as it pertains to the investigation into your sister’s disappearance. The complaint alleges harassment.”

The complainant had to be Dean Ryder, Clare thought. “It is still to be determined what role my sister’s husband may have played in his wife’s disappearance.” Clare was struggling to hold onto her temper, which would do her no good to lose with Cohen. “One man’s interpretation of events.”

“Not one man, Agent Marshall. There is a corroborating statement. The complaint is supported.” Cohen’s tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

“Supported by whom?” Clare asked.

“The sheriff from the town,” Cohen said. “This matter has been brought to the attention of the Office of Professional Responsibility and the department will be reviewing the allegation.”

“I see,” Clare said.

“I understand there was a fire at your accommodation and you were forced to flee the burning building. How are you feeling?”

“I sustained only minor injuries and I’m recovering well.”

“I’m glad of that. This is undoubtedly a difficult time for you, Clare. I’d like you to have a talk with Dr. Amedes. She’s a psychologist working out of the Columbia field office.”

Clare’s throat tightened. “With all due respect, sir, it isn’t necessary for me to speak with a therapist. I’m fine and perfectly capable of addressing any questions the OPR may have.”

Cohen went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve scheduled an appointment for you for tomorrow at one o’clock in the afternoon. I realize that you’re on personal time and may wish to delay this until you’re back in New York. I would prefer, however, that you speak with Amedes tomorrow.”

And to hell with what she wanted, obviously, Clare thought. She wanted to refuse—and not just tomorrow’s appointment. Whether in Columbia or New York, she did not want to speak with a psychologist at all. She’d been poked and prodded by psychologists throughout her childhood and teen years. She didn’t want to speak with another one as long as she lived.

She felt railroaded and worse—caged. If she refused to speak with the shrink, however, that would be another strike against her. Cohen may already be gearing up to pull her from active duty for poor job performance based on the allegation of misconduct.

A silence drew on while Clare fumed. Cohen waited her out. They both knew what her decision would be if she didn’t want to jeopardize her field position with the Bureau.

Finally, Clare said, “Very well, sir, I’ll see Dr. Amedes.”

“There are good people looking into your sister’s disappearance,” Cohen said. “Let them do their jobs, Clare. You focus your attention on your recovery. You still have six days before you’re due back in New York. I’ll be in touch with you prior to your return and we’ll discuss if you’re feeling well enough to resume your duties.”

The “if” was not lost on Clare. Cohen did not wait for her to reply. His decision delivered, he ended the call.

Clare set her phone down on the tabletop slowly.

“Well?” Jake asked.

“I was wrong when I said Ryder didn’t have the guts to go to the OPR.” She gave Jake the highlights of the call. “Cohen is afraid I’m flipping and will cause more trouble for the Bureau. He’s now made it his business to keep tabs on me.”

“An investigation that involved one of his agents was sure to attract his attention.”

“Added to that, a complaint of misconduct.” Clare chewed her lip briefly. “I can’t believe he wants me to see a shrink.”

A muscle throbbed in Jake’s jaw. “Just what the hell did Ryder put into that complaint?”

Clare made a face. “I guess I’ll find out when I’m back in New York. Cohen didn’t give me a date for the OPR interview but he went ahead and booked an appointment with the shrink for tomorrow.”

Jake regarded her with a steady gaze. “You can refuse.”

“Sure and let Cohen and the Bureau draw its own conclusions about my mental health. They don’t want me to become an embarrassment. Easier to make me go away. I’d end up at some dead-end post, counting paper clips all day. Cohen already told me to expect a call from him in the next six days to discuss
if
I’m well enough to resume my duties.”

“You can fight that, Clare. I would help you fight that.”

It frightened her how much his support meant to her. Her heart was beating too hard. It was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. But the problem was hers. She wouldn’t drag him into this mess with her.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to drag this out. I’ll see Amedes tomorrow.”

* * * * *

The next morning, Jake drove Clare to his office where she picked up her replacement weapon. From there, they drove to Main Street. She retrieved her bank cards and while he waited in his vehicle, she went into the women’s clothing store.