The Baby Thief (10 page)

Jackson bolted upright. “I think you miss your job and are creating a crime story to track down. ” The detective shook his head. “The newspaper has not been the same–”

“Stop.” Eric said it loud enough to cut him off.

“What? You think I’m wrong?”

“I don’t care that I was laid of. All I can think about is Jenna getting into that van yesterday, and it’s making me crazy. How could I witness a simple event like that and not know what really happened? I’m supposed to be a reporter!”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure she’s fine. No one has reported her missing. How well do you know her, anyway?”

“I don’t, really.” Eric sat back down, suddenly deflated. “I only met her the night of the robbery, then saw her briefly the next day for coffee. I did get to know her a little yesterday when we were running, and she seemed stable, very down to earth.”

“You ran in the River Run?” Jackson laughed out loud. “I thought you meant you were there as a reporter. You must have it bad for this woman.”

“Maybe.”

“Crap.” Jackson reached for the tall cup of coffee that was always present on his desk. “Have you lost your objectivity?”

“Maybe.”

“Most adults who are reported missing turn up shortly after. The rest don’t want to be found.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Eric thought about the two women who had disappeared last spring. They hadn’t turned up later. Jackson must have remembered them as well because he finally said, “If she doesn’t show up in the next twenty-four hours, I’ll investigate.”

Eric stood to leave. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep looking around.”

“You’re a good man.”

Eric drove mindlessly for a while, thinking it was time for lunch, and ended up at Geronimo’s. His presence in the restaurant the night of the robbery had been a fluke, a last-minute meeting with a magazine editor who was staying at a nearby motel. He rarely spent money eating out, but here he was ordering an expensive prime rib sandwich and asking if Jenna McClure was around.

“I’m sorry, she’s on leave of absence.”

“When do you expect her back?”

“I don’t know.” The young woman smiled brightly. “Do you want anything else with that?”

“No thanks.” Eric handed her the menu, wondering what the waitress knew that she wasn’t telling. He’d learned to read people over the years, and this young lady was keeping a secret. Had Jenna been fired? Or had she just gone to sit on the beach as he’d suggested? She had talked about quitting her job, but he’d thought it was just a case of victim jitters. Now he wasn’t sure.

The waitress came back with salad and black coffee. “Is Jenna a friend of yours?” she asked quietly.

“I just recently met her, but I’d like to think of her as a friend. Why?”

The girl shrugged. “Just curious.”

She darted off before Eric could think of a subtle way of asking if anyone had seen or heard from Jenna. He ate his salad, then pulled out the small notepad he always kept in his pocket and began to doodle. The restaurant didn’t seem busy, just a few tables with middle-aged men and women in business suits. The walls were paneled in pine halfway up and had a pale adobe look around the top. Rounded archways separated the three dining rooms, and the furnishings had a distinctive southwestern look, done mostly in greenish-blue and brownish-red. That was his best guess, anyway. Somewhat colorblind, Eric was never sure. He preferred the comfort of vinyl booths and Formica tabletops in places that served breakfast twenty-four hours a day. He hoped the prime rib sandwich would be thick and pink and juicy with a big pile of fries on the side, because he was starved, as usual.

When the waitress brought his sandwich, which almost lived up to his expectations, she said, “My name’s Stacey if you need anything else.” She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t leave either. Eric decided to press for information.

“I need to contact Jenna McClure. Can you help me?”

“It’s against restaurant policy to give out information about another employee.” Her tone was firm, but her expression was playful. Stacey wanted to trade dirt, Eric could tell.

He leaned toward her and whispered, “Tell me where she is, and I’ll tell you why I’m looking for her.”

Stacey whispered back, “Tell me who you are and why you’re looking for her, and I’ll decide whether I can tell you anything.

“My name’s Eric Troutman, I’m a freelance journalist, and I think I’m in love with her.”

Stacey grinned. “Show me your ID.”

Eric dug out his driver’s license and press card and handed them to her.

“How do I know you’re not some irritating reporter who won’t leave her alone?” Stacey handed the cards back.

“I’ve already interviewed the lady, and I know where she lives. She’s just never there.”

“Then I can’t help you.” Stacey shrugged. She was going through the all motions before she broke the rules. Stacey wanted to help him, he could tell.

“I’ve called her twenty times since Saturday—no answer.”

“Maybe she went to Florence to see her mom, that’s all I can think of. I gotta get back to work now. Good luck. Jenna’s a great person.”

Stacey scooted off, and Eric wolfed down his huge, but now somewhat cold, sandwich. The Riverside Apartments where Jenna lived were less than a mile away. He decided to stop by and talk to the manager, find out if Jenna had been home in the last few days. Stacey’s suggestion that Jenna had gone out of town to see her mom made sense. Eric suddenly felt foolish for telling Jackson he thought Jenna had been kidnapped. There were so many other explanations for her behavior. Maybe the guys in the van were brothers or relatives. Maybe her mother was sick or in the hospital, and Jenna had to leave town in a hurry and forgot about their date. Eric remembered a few times he’d bolted off on a story lead without telling anyone but his senior editor.

Once he got out of the mall traffic, the drive to Jenna’s apartment complex took only two minutes. Eric would have bet money she either biked or walked to work. It felt good to know that about her, to counter the nagging feeling he’d become obsessed with a total stranger. He pulled into the wide circular driveway and parked in front of the office.

Because it was a spur of the moment idea, Eric hadn’t had much time to figure out how he wanted to handle the manager. He considered claiming to be Jenna’s brother in town for a visit, but at the last minute decided on the truth. He sized up the chunky little woman behind the counter as the cheerful, busybody type who wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of a mysterious disappearance. The new office with its tasteful art and “everything at the touch of a computer” didn’t compensate for the basic boredom of her job.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Eric often wished he had a hat to tip with his southern gentleman’s routine.

“Hello,” she gushed. “What can I do for you?”

“You can help me find my Cinderella. She disappeared before we had a chance to get back together, and I can’t let her go without making a gentleman’s effort to win the lady over.”

“You’re giving me goose bumps, young man.” The manager shivered with delight. “You do have a way with words. What’s your name?”

“Eric Troutman, freelance journalist.”

“I’m Dottie.” She extended a plump little hand. “Who’s the lucky lady? Does she live here at Riverside?”

“Jenna McClure. Do you know her?”

Dottie brought her hands together. “Of course I know her. She’s a wonderful person.” Suddenly, her delight vanished. “What do you mean, disappeared? Has something else happened to that poor girl?”

“What do you mean something else?”

“Didn’t you hear? The restaurant was robbed last week. Jenna could have been killed.” The little manager’s eyes blinked rapidly. “They put a gun to her head.”

Eric nodded. “I was there. That’s when we met.”

He told her the whole story, keeping back only the fact they’d slept together. Their lovemaking had been the most intimate and tender experience of his life, and he wasn’t ready to share it with anyone.

Eric paused for a moment to let the manager absorb it all, then said tentatively, “What I’d like you to do is open her mailbox and see if she’s picked up her mail in the last few days.” He really wanted to get inside her apartment. He’d know in a glance if Jenna had been home recently. But he didn’t want to push for that yet.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to, but I don’t like the sound of this.” Dottie looked distressed. “I’ve never seen Jenna with anybody that drives a gray van. Most of the people she hangs out with are from the restaurant.”

“Does she have any family around here?” Eric asked as he followed Dottie out to the dozens of silver mail units in front of the complex.

“Not that I know of. I’ve heard her mention visiting her mother at the coast, but not recently.”

Their conversation in the coffeehouse came back to him. Jenna said she’d grown up with only her mother. So much for his theory that the guys in the van were relatives. “Did she say anything about leaving town?”

“No. I haven’t seen her much lately. I think the robbery shook her up pretty badly.” Dottie picked through a bundle of keys that was bigger than her fist, finally selecting one and opening a mailbox on the lower left corner of the unit. It was crammed full. Dottie pulled out the pile and quickly sorted through it. “There’s nothing personal here. Just an EWEB bill and a bunch of junk mail. Now what?”

“Will you open her apartment for me? Let me glance inside to see if she’s been home in the last few days?” Eric crossed his mental fingers.

“I can’t do that.” Dottie looked more upset by the minute. “I don’t believe she’d go off for more than a few days without telling me. Besides, it’s in the rental contract that tenants have to notify me of any prolonged absence. Jenna just isn’t like that. She’s a responsible person.”

“You can look inside yourself,” Eric pleaded. “I’m sure it would be all right. It’s your duty as a manager.”

“I should call Geronimo’s to see if she’s been at work.”

“I was just there. One of the waitresses told me Jenna was on a leave of absence, whatever that means.”

“Oh dear.” Dottie looked about to cry. “She could have moved out and not told me. That happens sometimes.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“You’re right.” The little manager abruptly turned and marched down the circular sidewalk surrounding the common green. Eric followed.

Jenna’s apartment was as Eric remembered, a collection of contradictions. The living room was perfectly clean and uncluttered while her bedroom had clothes and books scattered everywhere. The kitchen had every imaginable counter-top appliance, but the living room didn’t even have a TV. Eric checked the bathroom and kitchen sinks. Both were bone dry. Nobody had used any water in the apartment recently. A quick look in the hall closet revealed Jenna had left without her matching set of luggage. Neither Eric nor the manager knew enough about Jenna’s wardrobe to determine if clothes were missing, but they agreed that if Jenna had gone somewhere, she’d packed lightly.

The bathroom bothered them the most. Toothbrush, deodorant, shampoo, everything a person would use on a daily basis was there on the countertop. A magazine was open on the floor.

“I think we should call the police,” Dottie said as she bent down to see what Jenna had been reading.

“I talked to a detective yesterday. He’s a friend of mine.” Eric picked up the deodorant. It was a generic, unscented brand. “He seemed to think I was overreacting.” The soap by the sink was the clear, see-through kind. He picked it up and sniffed; also unscented.

You could learn a lot about a person in their bathroom, he decided. Jenna didn’t seem to have any curlers, blow dryers, or other hair gizmos, meaning her curly hair was probably natural. The amount of make-up seemed minimal too. Eric realized Dottie had been talking to him.

“What if she was kidnapped? Did you file a missing person report?”

“Not yet. Do you have her mother’s name or address in her rental application?”

“Only if she used her for a reference.” Dottie twisted her hands nervously. “Should we look through her address book for it?”

“Maybe we won’t have to.” Eric headed back to the kitchen where he’d seen a cordless phone. Next to it was a list of names and numbers with “Mom” right on top. Eric picked up the phone and started to dial.

“Wait!” Dottie grabbed his hand. “You can’t just call her up and say ‘I think your daughter’s missing, have you seen her?’ If Jenna’s not there, her poor mother will worry herself to death, and we don’t know anything for sure.”

“You’re right.” Eric set the phone down. He hadn’t thought about how Mrs. McClure might react. He could get around that. The survey ploy usually worked. “I have an idea.” He dialed the number again. A woman’s voice answered on the second ring. The voice was high-pitched and uptight, completely unlike Jenna’s warm, friendly alto.

Eric jumped right into his spiel. “Hello. This is Michael Fish with KVAL. We’re conducting a survey to find out what your favorite programs are. Do you have a minute?”

“I don’t watch KVAL. That guy that does the weather is a weirdo.” Mrs. McClure seemed irritated.

“What station do you watch?”

“I like the Discovery Channel. Most of that other stuff is garbage.”

“Are there any other viewers in your household?”

“Nope.”

“What about guests? Will anyone in your household be watching one of the three major networks tonight?” Eric remembered Jenna didn’t have a TV and might not watch even if she was at her mother’s.

“Well,” Mrs. McClure pretended to consider the question. “I’d have to say no. I’m going out to play bingo, and the cats haven’t figured out how to turn the TV on.”

The dial tone buzzed in Eric’s ear. He turned to Dottie. “I don’t think Jenna’s at her mother’s.”

“Are you going to file a missing person report or should I?” Dottie twisted the rings on her fat little fingers and blinked back tears.

“I will.” Eric wanted to say something kind, but couldn’t think of anything that sounded sincere. He was just as worried as Dottie. “I’m going to copy some of these names and numbers. The police might want them for their investigation.”