She's Not There (5 page)

An hour later, Roland, wearing faded jeans, and a leather jacket, came into the coffee shop and sat down next to Lisa.

“TJ, I’m sorry I got upset with you, but you should have talked to me about this first, instead of putting Lisa in the middle. When you get this list of missing women I’ll tell you which women we did not help. That might not make sense to you two, but then I’d feel like I didn’t actually give you names.”

Lisa frowned. “We can work with that. But you said “we.” I thought you worked alone.”

Roland snorted, looking at TJ. “Well, at least you didn’t tell her the whole story.”

“Roland, we can do it any way makes you comfortable,“ Lisa said. “If you don’t want to give me any details, that’s fine. The important thing is that we find something we can go back to the police with. And eliminating women who left willingly will be a necessary first step.”

Lisa realized she was committed now. Someone had to find out what was happening to these women.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Lisa,” Roland told her. “I’ll tell you this much—I do this by myself, but sometimes there are things I can’t do alone. I have a few close friends who help out, but on an as-needed basis, and they’re never given names. The process can get expensive, and the women most in need are always the ones with the least funds.”

Roland paused when the waitress appeared with their coffee. “About five years ago, when I first started doing this, I paid all of the expenses myself. The first time a close friend was beaten so badly by her boyfriend that she nearly died. I helped her leave town, and now she’s happily married and living in another state. She’s repaid me for what I covered when she left, but not everyone has been able to do that.

“My partner and I are going to buy a condo together in the third ward and  that’s cut down on how much I’ve been able to contribute. I’ve only been able to help out two women the last year or so.”

“It sounds like there are quite a few people who know about this.”

“They’re all friends who care about women. Our world is different. In our network of friends, there are never betrayals.”

“Never is a long time,” Lisa said.

TJ interrupted, before Lisa and Roland could argue about it. “Lisa, hope you’re goin’ out tonight. You’ll really turn heads with that great hair.”

TJ was right. Lisa loved what Roland had done with her hair. Before she left the salon she’d made an appointment to have her hair colored.

“No plans. I don’t go out much.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story.”

Roland dropped a bill on the table. “I’ll leave you two ladies to finish your coffee. Let me know when you want to go over that list.”

Lisa watched him walk out of the shop. “He’s an impressive man.”

“Yeah. Rollie and I go way back. So what’s your story? You gay, too?”

Where did that come from?
“No. Although life might be simpler if I were.”

“Simpler how?”

“I was married a long time ago. It ended badly and left me with a young daughter to raise. I wasn’t a great mother—well, not really a bad mother—I just wasn’t there for her emotionally during the years that mattered. After my marriage ended, I was on a quest to find Mr. Perfect. I was gone a lot.” Lisa felt a tug of guilt, remembering.

“So what happened with your girl?” TJ listened eagerly, leaning forward with her elbows on the table.

“I raised her on my own.” Talking or even thinking about her inadequacies as a mother was difficult.

TJ studied her. “Funny, you and me have more in common than I woulda’ thought. Me, I have commitment issues. That’s why the good detective and I have lasted so long. We’re alike that way.”

“Have you ever discussed that with him?”

“Sounds like a shrink question, so I’m gonna ignore it. Save it for our ‘therapy’ session.” She snickered. “So what do you do for male companionship?” TJ raised her eyebrows for emphasis on the word ‘companionship’.

Lisa didn’t want to get into the details of her poor choices in men or confide that she was a forty-two-year-old romance junkie. “I’m just coming out of a relationship that didn’t work out well. I guess you could say I’m taking a break right now.”

“Yeah, best to take a breather.” TJ stood up and stretched. “I have plans tonight, so better be moving on out of here. Thanks for comin’ Lisa. Wasn’t sure you would. Now that we know Rollie’s gonna check off his ladies, our next step has to be the list. If you have any problems gettin’ it let me know and I’ll see what I can do.”

“What if it leads us nowhere?”

“There’s always plan B.”

“And that is . . .?”

“Didn’t want to mention it, but I have a friend who works at the Journal if we get desperate.”

“I thought of that too. Hopefully we won’t have to go that route.”

When Lisa got home, she took Phanny for a walk along the street bordering the lake. The days were getting shorter, and the damp evening air smelled like decaying leaves and approaching winter. As she walked she noticed all the bright, warmly lit houses embracing what she perceived to be happy families. Lisa felt guilty that she’d never been able to provide Paige with that scene. Lisa’s talk with TJ that afternoon had brought back all the guilt-laden memories she liked to keep under cover.

As she walked it occurred to her that was probably why she had felt such a strong kinship with Jamie Denison. Jamie had gotten out of that lifestyle in time and found a loving husband. And, in spite of its problems, her marriage still had a good chance for salvation at the time she’d been seeing Lisa.

Lisa had given up the club life only after she’d begun to fear it was becoming an obsession. She’d given it up, focusing on her work and her daughter. But unfortunately, after years of therapy and the emptiness of her life without a man, she’d stumbled back into a cycle of futile relationships once Paige left for college.

A shiver ran through her when Phanny woofed softly and began to growl. Lisa didn’t see anything, but it was a dark, moonless night.
Why did fall evenings have such a sinister feel to them?
Lisa thought it must be the gnarled branches of bare trees that seemed to be reaching for her. And this quest she’d just committed to wouldn’t be without its risks. She hurried Phanny back to the safety and warmth of home.

Lisa fed Phanny and fixed herself a grilled cheese sandwich on some wonderful bread she’d found at a bakery on North Avenue. The sandwich, made with the nutty, grain-filled bread and her favorite cheddar cheese, went perfectly with the bowl of tomato soup she’d heated up.

When she finished eating, she went into the garage and pulled out a ladder, using it to climb into the storage rafters. Moving aside some Christmas decorations, she saw it was still there—a small, metal security box. She carried it back down with her and brought it into the house. She opened the box and took out a stack of old legal papers. Underneath the papers sat a .22 caliber pistol still in its place next to a box of bullets.

Eric Schindler, the former Dr. Schindler, obstetric surgeon, sat in his office going over the day’s receipts. It was one of the few places he indulged in his favorite cigars. Owner of Kristy’s Classics now, Eric enjoyed working with the old cars, but today thoughts of his former career were plaguing him. Maybe it was time—time to explore a re-emergence. He could make a few calls and see if anything had changed. Or call TJ, ask her if she’d heard anything new on his case.

His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his reverie. He opened the phone.

“Hey you, what’s happenin’?”

“Not much. To what do I owe the honor?”

TJ said, “Well, you haven’t bugged me in a while, so I thought I’d call and catch up.”

“You’re right, I haven’t. But you never call to ‘catch up.’ What’s on your mind?”

“Need to talk to you about somethin’. You gonna be around tomorrow?”

“You can’t tell me what this is about?”

“Long story. Can’t be told as well on the phone.”

“If you have time tomorrow I’ll pick you up and we’ll go somewhere for lunch. A great ‘53 Corvette just came in today and I need to take it for a drive. I know you love Vettes. We could take it out to Port Washington.”

“Sounds good, Doc. How is the old car business going?”

Kristy’s Classics, a Milwaukee area classic car dealer and showroom had been a favorite hangout for him since his father had brought him there as a young boy. He heard the business had been struggling to survive, and when the dealership came up for sale, he’d jumped at the opportunity. He’d been at loose ends with his medical career on hold.

“The old car business is doing fine. Sure you won’t give me a hint of what’s on your mind?”

“Sorry, Doc. Have to run now, so it’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

Eric suspected TJ’s need to talk to him could only have something to do with his wife’s disappearance. Kayla. Obsession was the only word to describe what he’d felt for his wife. A model when they met, she’d never accepted that her career didn’t hit the big-time. Brandy stingers, discovered on a skiing trip in Vale, became her method of coping with her disappointment. 

After nearly two years in prison, where dwelling on it was all he had to do with his time, Eric finally understood that their relationship hadn’t been a healthy one for either of them. When TJ accused him of not being able to let go of Kayla’s memory, she’d told him he would always compare any other woman to Kayla. He’d let her think that, although Eric believed that his inability to stay with a relationship had more to do with how he’d lost his wife.

The next day Eric came home from his outing with TJ unsure which excited him more, TJ’s ‘plan’ or the actual involvement of another person, Lisa Rayburn, even if it meant setting aside his ongoing dislike of therapists.

After all these years, maybe he would find out what had really happened to Kayla. Someone had abducted her; nothing else made sense.

It sickened him that there was another missing woman, possibly many. TJ wouldn’t give up the husband’s name when Eric suggested he talk to the man. The guy’s name wouldn’t be too hard to find though; he’d simply have to go to the online newspaper archives.

It took only minutes on the paper’s web site to find the reference to the missing woman, and he quickly found Jeff Denison’s phone number listed in the phone book. Risking TJ’s wrath, Eric dialed the number.

Jeff Denison answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“My name is Eric Schindler. You don’t know me, but I was arrested five years ago for killing my wife. You might remember—the story was in the papers off and on for years. Anyway, I got out on an appeal after two years. I didn’t kill my wife, Mr. Denison.”

He knew Denison didn’t really know TJ, but wanted to give his call some validity. “A mutual friend told me about your situation—a friend who believes neither of us had anything to do with our wives disappearances. I’m calling because your circumstances now are so much like mine were that I thought I could give you the benefit of my experience.”

Still not giving Denison a chance to speak, Eric asked, “Would you like to meet for a drink sometime?”

Denison quickly said, “Sure, how about tonight?”

Eric hadn’t expected that. But if Jeff Denison were anywhere near as troubled as Eric had been, he
would
want to meet right away. Eric still remembered all those miserable nights he spent alone: drinking, staring at the TV, and agonizing about Kayla.

He invited Denison to Kristie’s and lit up his last cigar of the day.

When Jeff Denison arrived at the dealership, Eric gave him a tour of the cars on the showroom floor, their glossy appeal brightening Jeff’s face. After they’d made the rounds, Eric took him into the conference room and offered him a beer.

He accepted one and asked, “What made you call me?”

“I thought you might need some moral support.” 

When the other man said nothing, Eric asked, “Have the cops had you under the bright lights yet?”

“Not really. They still think Jamie left me. I know that’s not what happened. She wouldn’t just run off—not for this long, anyway, and not tell anyone.”

Eric thought Jeff looked choked up. Nervous that the other man might actually cry in front of him, Eric gave him time to collect himself.

After a minute, with a grimace, Jeff went on.  “My wife and I have a 911 call on record. I didn’t get charged with anything, and Jamie told them I hadn’t hurt her. I’ll never forgive myself for frightening her enough to make that call. She did get hurt, but it was because I grabbed her arm. When she pulled away from me, she lost her balance and fell on a corner of the granite counter. She broke a rib. When they questioned me after she disappeared, they were looking at me like something that crawled out from under a rock.”

“Have you called an attorney or put one on retainer?”

“No. Like I said, the police think she left me.”

Denison was being pathetically naïve. “Do what you like, but it might be a good idea to have an attorney lined up.” He didn’t want to push; he’d let Denison think it over. “You know, in a way our cases are very similar.”

“They are?”

“My wife and I had a 911 call on record too. But I never laid a hand on her. And they thought she left me, too–at first.” Eric wondered just how much to tell the guy. So far, he liked him. Denison seemed genuine enough, or was he the one being naïve, thinking he could assume the man’s innocence based on one brief meeting?

He thought the similarities in Kayla and Jamie Denison’s disappearances were too similar to be a coincidence. Eric decided to tell Jeff everything. TJ would be angry that he jumped the gun, but he’d deal with the consequences later.

“Jeff, if you’re feeling anything like I was, you’d do anything you could to find out what happened to your wife . . .’’ Eric began telling Jeff about Lisa and TJ’s plan.

When he’d finished, Jeff looked like he’d been hit in the stomach with a battering ram. “If there is a killer, that means Jamie won’t ever come back; she’s out there somewhere, hurt, maybe dead.” Jeff paled.

Eric suggested ordering some food and was relieved the other man thought that was a good idea.

After Eric ordered takeout, Jeff asked, “So, these women are going to try to find this killer?”

Eric said, “No, they want to find evidence that there
is
a killer. Force the police to do their job and find the guy.”

“Why is now any different?”

“Now they have statistics that prove something must be going on with these women.”

“You said you intend to persuade them to let you in on it?”

“That’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. I figured you’d want to help and I thought if the two of us approached them, it would be more convincing. And think about it, two women interviewing abusers, possibly murderers? I’d sleep better at night knowing they weren’t out there alone.”

Jeff sighed. “This therapist. There’s something you don’t know about her.”

“What’s that?”

“Lisa Rayburn was the one seeing Jamie before she disappeared. I called her and pleaded with her to take me on as a client. She finally agreed.”

Eric nearly choked on the unlit cigar he held in his mouth. “That’s perfect. How could she say no?”