No Show (19 page)

“I would like to reiterate that due to irrefutable evidence, Terry Sheffield has been eliminated as a suspect in the murder of Alicia Hyams.”

Terry and Oscar cheered.

A wave of questions struck Holman, which he didn’t respond to until the cacophony of voices burned itself out. One voice made it through with its question.

“Sheriff Holman, can you tell us what evidence has come to light?”

Holman looked uneasy, but he answered. “It’s an issue of timing. At the time of Alicia Hyams’s abduction, Terry Sheffield
was entering the US. We have corroboration from airport immigration.”

“Who’s trying to cover up their screwup?” Terry said to the television. “I was in your office, not the airport, when Alicia Hyams was kidnapped.”

“But do you suspect foul play in the disappearance of Sarah Sheffield?” the reporter demanded, following up her previous question.

“There is no evidence of foul play.”

Another slew of questions ensued.

“Do you have another suspect, Sheriff?”

“Is Alicia Hyams’s murder in any way connected to Sarah Sheffield’s disappearance?”

“What is your next course of action?”

Holman shouted the questions down with his commanding voice. “All I’m willing to say is that I can categorically state that Terry Sheffield is not responsible for Alicia Hyams’s death.”

Holman turned his back on the reporters. The camera tracked him returning into his offices.

“Categorically,” Terry said, chewing the word over. “Does that mean without a doubt?”

“I think it does, man,” Oscar replied.

The report cut back to Tom Degrasse. “Sheriff Holman and Mr. Sheffield declined to comment further, but Mr. Sheffield’s lawyer, Jonathan Schreiber, made a statement on his behalf.”

Schreiber appeared on the screen. “Terry expressed his supreme pleasure at being eliminated from the sheriff’s investigations.”

“Hell, yeah,” Oscar seconded.

“Amen to that,” Terry said.

“He is also grateful to Sheriff Holman for his statement today.”

“Are you?” Oscar asked.

Terry shrugged. “I’m grateful he let me go.”

“Terry wishes to be left to resume his life in the US and hopes Sheriff Holman’s investigations lead to a speedy capture of Alicia Hyams’s murderer and the return of his wife. Thank you.”

The report cut back to Tom Degrasse to sum up. “There you have it. Authorities are no closer to finding Alicia Hyams’s killer than a week ago. Let’s hope developments are swift and forthcoming. This is Tom Degrasse reporting for KTAH, San Francisco. Now, back to the studio.”

Oscar slapped Terry on the back. “Well done, buddy.”

“God, I’ll never get tired of watching that.”

“I know I will,” a familiar voice said from behind them.

Terry and Oscar whirled to find Holman standing there. He looked ready to burst.

Terry sighed. “Okay, we’ve been loud, but we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You’re not here to arrest him again, are you?” Oscar asked.

Holman glared at Oscar.

“What do you want, Sheriff?” Terry asked.

“I was passing by and saw you two whooping like monkeys at feeding time, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t being a nuisance.”

Becki came forward with their check in an American Express bill holder. “No nuisance here,” she said. “They were just settling up.”

“Thanks,” Terry said, but not for bringing the bill.

“As long as they weren’t causing trouble.”

“No trouble,” she said with a smile.

Holman grunted.

“Anything else, Sheriff?” Terry asked.

“Not for tonight. But we are far from finished, Sheffield. You can count on that.”

Terry, Oscar, Becki, and the rest of the patrons in the restaurant watched Holman leave. No one spoke until the doors closed.

“Becki, you’ve earned an excellent tip,” Oscar said, handing her his Visa card.

She went to charge Oscar’s card. Terry waited for her to be out of earshot before speaking. “Did you smell alcohol?”

“I thought that was us.”

“It was, but we weren’t the only ones.”

“So?”

“It doesn’t seem like him. Don’t you think it’s a bit reckless to be drunk on duty?”

“He’s had a bad day. Totally understandable. We have a good day—we drink to celebrate. We have a bad day—we drink to commiserate. What else is alcohol for?”

For burying guilt
, Terry thought.

Another day, another dollar and a different attitude. That was how Genavax welcomed Terry the following day. Condemned by a TV jury the day before, he was the conquering hero today. Colleagues either congratulated him, shook his hand, slapped him on the back, offered him a sympathetic ear if he needed it, or, the most touching of all, apologized for prejudging him. Today he was “The Man,” as Kirk from shipping had said.

If attitudes were changing, his needed to change too. He had to buckle down and get on with his work and for good reason. In part, he needed this job. Sarah was missing and there was a mortgage to pay. It would be nice if there were a home for her to come home to. More important, Sarah had discovered something that had Pamela spooked, and if it was connected to her disappearance, he needed to figure out what it was. He couldn’t do that if Genavax gave him his marching orders. So for now, he’d be a good worker bee.

Jenny Kuo stopped him in the corridor. She asked if he was okay and gave him a card with a 1-800 number to a counseling line. He remembered her mentioning the service at his induction.

“It’s free and confidential,” she said. “Nobody from Genavax will know what is discussed. They are trained in stress management.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” he said, holding the card up.

“Will you use it?”

He smiled. “Probably not. I have a good friend who’s been supportive. But I appreciate the offer.”

“There’s no stigma in using it. Even things built Ford tough need a tune-up now and again.”

He liked her attempt at not attacking his masculinity. It was cute. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Okay. I’ll leave it up to you, then.”

He wondered if Jenny’s insistence was because no one had ever chosen to use the service. He felt he should use it just to placate her desire to be an excellent human resources manager. He thanked her and pocketed the card.

The lab was harmonious in its support. Even Frosty Frazer mumbled his congratulations, as did Pamela Dawson. Terry went into her office and closed the door.

“May I have a quick word?” he asked.

“If you must.” She crossed her arms over her flat chest.

“I know my Genavax career hasn’t gotten off to a flying start.”

Pamela grunted.

“But I want to change that. I’ve never been fired, and I’ve never had a bad reference. I’m a good worker, and I’ll prove to you that you haven’t made a mistake by hiring me.”

Pamela looked as if she’d heard this speech a thousand times before from a thousand people who were one excuse away from being fired. Terry carried on regardless.

“I’m determined to make it work at Genavax. I will make up the time I’ve missed. You’ll see a change.”

“I appreciate your saying so,” she said. “Let’s hope you can turn things around. If that’s all, we’d better get back to our work.”

And that was what Terry did. He put his head down and beavered away. He stopped for a short lunch break and carried on through to five and beyond.

Everyone pretty much vamoosed at or just after five, with two exceptions—Frosty Frazer and Pamela. They were disciples of the Genavax faith and believers in the corporate grail, always first to arrive and last to leave. But Terry knocked them from their thrones. They disappeared around six thirty. He stayed strong long after seven.

That was the state of play until Thursday.

His phone rang. “Terry Sheffield.”

“Terry, it’s Frank from security. Have the Ice Maiden and Frosty gone?”

“Yeah, about ten minutes ago.”

“Can you come to reception? There’s a package that needs signing for.”

“Sure thing.”

A skinny FedEx delivery driver was in the reception area with Frank. He held a refrigerated container, looking relieved to see Terry.

“Man, you just saved my ass.”

“Have I?”

“Yeah, I screwed up. I should have been here a couple of hours ago, but I missed the package in the truck. In twenty minutes, the refrigerant runs out and FedEx is liable if this shipment’s no good.” He handed the container off to Terry. He exhaled as he did so, glad to be rid of his burden.

Terry checked the expiration date on the container. The driver had made it by the skin of his teeth.

“Can you sign for it?”

“Sure,” Terry said, putting the container down and taking the clipboard.

“I didn’t want to sign for it,” Frank said, “just in case it was damaged.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll get this straight into the fridge for tonight and let Pamela sort it out in the morning. No harm done.”

“Cool,” the driver said.

Terry handed the clipboard back. “Dodged a bullet there, mate.”

“More than you know. Screw up on these runs and you get assigned the gang-territory routes.”

“Well, you lucked out this time,” Frank added.

“FedEx, when it absolutely, positively has to be there, right?” The driver saluted. “Have a good night, guys.”

“Take it easy.” Frank let the driver out and locked the door behind him. “You gonna call it a night now?”

“I think so. I’ll just take care of this.”

“Good, make it an early one for a change…if you can call six forty-five early.”

“Just trying to make a good impression.”

“Don’t be too eager to please. Working too hard never did anyone any good.”

Letting the lab doors swing shut behind him, Terry examined the container. He checked the documentation under the plastic envelope. The medical samples were addressed to Pamela.

Terry started jotting out a note for Pamela. He glanced at the sender’s information to see if it was one of their regular suppliers. It wasn’t. The package was from the Nevada State University Children’s Research Hospital. He was sure Genavax wasn’t working on any projects with any children’s hospital. An uneasy sensation washed over him.

“What does Genavax need with a children’s hospital?” he murmured to himself.

T
erry sat at his dining table. He stared at the phone number on the scrap of paper he held in one hand. The phone was a lead weight in the other. This was one number he wished he didn’t have to call.

“Are you going to call him?” Oscar asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, you don’t look like it. I went to a lot of trouble for that number. It cost me a couple of Giants tickets.”

Terry frowned.

“Do you want to find Sarah?”

“Of course I do,” Terry said.

“Then call.”

Terry hesitated.

Oscar held out his hand. “I’ll do it if you want.”

That was the easy way out. He should make the call. Sarah was his wife. Terry punched in the number and waited for someone to pick up. The wimp inside was still hoping for an answering machine when a man answered the phone.

“Mr. Hyams?”

“Yes.” The man sounded tired, drained of all spirit.

“You don’t know me. My name is Terry.”

Oscar smiled and patted Terry encouragingly on the back.

“If you’re a reporter I don’t want to talk to you. Please leave my family in peace. Let us grieve.”

“Mr. Hyams, I’m not a reporter,” Terry said quickly, before Hyams had the chance to hang up. “I’m a worried husband. My wife went missing at the same time as yours.”

“Who is this?”

“Terry Sheffield, Mr. Hyams.”

“You son of a bitch. You’ve got some nerve calling me. Why they let you go, I’ll never understand.”

“Because I’m innocent.”

“Yeah, you’re innocent like every other scumbag on death row. I’m putting the phone down, and I’m calling the cops.”

“Mr. Hyams, don’t.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Because I think your wife was talking to mine.”

“What?”

“Your wife’s name was on a list of five names my wife had in her files.”

Terry’s answer took the heat out of Hyams. “Who else was on the list?”