Authors: Angella Graff
“Excellent,” Ben said. “I really think I’m going with my gut on this one, since all of the other leads I have are a little...” Ben trailed off and shook his head, not wanting to even approach that subject with the other detective. “Let’s just say they’re pointless.”
“Bit like my entire day,” Stella said as she finished off her breakfast. “I have a massive caseload that I’m falling behind on, so I’m not going to be able to stick on this case all day, but I’ll head out with you to the mother’s house if you like.”
“We should probably look up a place of employment for her, in case she’s not home,” Ben said.
“Way ahead of you,” she replied and shoved another sheet of paper at him. “She was at one point on probation for aggravated DUI. She was working for this insurance agency at the time and though they attempted to terminate her employment with them, her probation officer filed an appeal since part of her probation terms were to maintain a regular job. When I called there this morning, she wasn’t in, but they did confirm she was still employed. If she’s not home, it’s worth a look at her office.”
“I’ll drive,” Ben said and grabbed his coffee. Within minutes, the pair were out the door and seated in the sporty rental car, Ben at the wheel.
“Not bad, Stanford. You get to pick it?”
Ben smirked and shook his head. “No, but I didn’t complain.” With that, he fired up the engine, and following Stella’s directions, pulled in front of a split level, house about thirty minutes later.
It was older property near Mission Blvd, the wood on the outside cracked and worn from the constant moisture in the air and the heavy salt that came with living so close to the ocean. It was at one time a vibrant yellow, though now only patches of the paint remained on the front walls.
The door was large and encased by a heavy, black iron screen, and the front yard was decorated with cheap, wicker patio furniture and palms slowly dying in big, clay pots.
Ben was the first at the door, and he hit the doorbell, listening to the incredibly loud chiming sounding through the house. Several moments passed before Ben hit the button again.
“How long do you usually wait?” Stella asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Long enough to be annoying, in case anyone is home,” Ben said. “Then again, I’m usually after murder suspects, or their spouses, so it’s in my favor to be patient.”
Still, after several minutes, Ben was ready to call it. It was then, however, that a short, older woman with very blonde hair approached walking a very small, very fluffy white dog on a bright pink leash.
“Can I help you?” she asked in heavily accented English, as she opened the small gate to her walkway. She approached, the wind ruffling her light scarf she wore over her white capri pants and blue and white striped sweater. She had the look of a woman well off, but a woman who didn’t deal with it well. The red on her nose and cheeks told Ben that she definitely liked her wine, and the slight tremble of her hands told Ben she probably liked it with breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Mrs. Thompson?” Ben asked, reaching for his badge.
“Yes?”
“My name is Detective Stanford, and this is my associate, Detective Horvath. We’re here on behalf of both the San Diego police department and the San Francisco police department.”
The woman frowned and clutched the leash on her dog tighter. “What is this regarding?”
“We were wondering if your son was home?” Stella cut in.
“Which son?” Diana asked with a deep frown. “Is this about Michael again? I assure you, he’s had trouble in the past, but he’s been home at seven PM sharp every night for the last six months.”
Stella exchanged a frown with Ben and then shook her head. “Not Michael, Mrs. Thompson. We’re here about Shawn.”
The woman’s face then fell and she took a step back. “Shawn? Oh mon Dieu, he’s not… no. He’s not um…”
Being familiar with a person’s face who suddenly thought they’d lost a loved one, Ben quickly cut in. “No, Mrs. Thompson, he’s not dead. We were hoping that he was home. You see, we’re investigating a case from Edgington Behavioral Health hospital and he may have witnessed something.”
Relief rushed into the old woman’s eyes and she let out a breath. “I’m sorry, you really frightened me. I haven’t seen or heard from Shawn in a while. Not since his road trip, and I was starting to get worried.”
“Road trip?” Stella asked.
The puppy at Diana’s feet began to whine, and she reached down to pick it up. “Can we move this inside? Coco just hates the cold.”
“By all means,” Stella said, gesturing at the door.
A moment later, both detectives were inside the warm foyer, and the dog was running back and forth between their feet, sniffing their pant legs and looking suspiciously like it might attempt to mark one of them.
Ben looked around at the house and noticed several pictures of two young boys on the walls. They appeared to be several years apart, but Ben had a feeling in their adulthood they could probably pass for twins. They were tall, strawberry blonde hair kept short in nearly every picture. They were thin, faces long, eyes small and beady, and they had the look of kids who were a little too into things like dragons and wizards to be considered cool by their peers.
The house itself was typical, furniture older but nice, and knick knacks spread out on every possible surface. She led the detectives into the sitting room where a small fire was going, and she took a seat on the chair nearest to the flames.
“My son had built up quite a bit of vacation time at the hospital, so he decided to go on a road trip up the coast,” she said after the detectives got settled on the sofa.
“That’s what he told you?” Stella asked.
“That’s what he did. He called me from San Francisco about a week ago and said he was going to head up towards Washington and then he’d start back down. Shawn doesn’t do a lot outside of the house, so I figured this would be good for him. He was taking along some friend he met at work.”
Ben frowned and pulled out his small notepad and pen. “Do you have the name of this friend?”
“Shawn’s a grown man, I have no place sticking my nose in his business,” Diana snapped.
“Is that what he told you when you asked for this friend’s name?” Ben questioned. Diana looked mildly horrified, so Ben clarified. “Your son is obviously a loner, Mrs. Thompson, and I don’t say that to be rude. It’s just, according to his colleagues, Shawn didn’t have a lot of friends, so taking a sudden road trip with some unnamed friend had to strike you as a little odd.”
Diana let out a small breath and then shrugged. “Well yes, it was a little strange. Shawn never mentioned any friend before, so I asked. He got defensive, so I thought it might be a girlfriend or something. If it was, I wasn’t about to say anything to change his mind. He’s a good boy, you know, and he’s never really had a way with the ladies.”
“Understandable,” Ben said with a nod.
“Did you notice anything odd about his behavior before he left?” Stella added. “Lack of sleep, muttering to himself? Anything you’d consider bizarre?”
“Yes,” Diana said, sounding surprised that Stella seemed to know. “He wasn’t sleeping at all, and he was so pale and wasn’t eating. When I asked him about it, he said it was work stress. I started encouraging him to take some of his vacation time, and I was pretty pleased when he did.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Thompson, but Shawn didn’t use any vacation time at his job,” Ben said after a moment. “He was fired as a no-call, no-show. In fact, a couple of officers were sent over to do a welfare check on him, but no one was home.”
“That’s not possible,” Diana said, putting her hand to her mouth. “Shawn’s always been the responsible one. He’s never had a single sick day, was never late, and worked so hard.”
“We have reason to believe your son might be in some possible danger,” Stella said. “A patient went missing at the hospital, a patient your son had close contact with on a near daily basis. We’re still looking into the case, but if you have any idea where he might be, or how we can get in touch with him, we’d really appreciate it.”
“All I have is his cell phone number,” she said, sounding shaken and terrified.
“Do you know if he carries a credit card?” Ben asked, trying to sound soothing and calm.
“Um yes,” Diana said, rubbing her cheek with her hand. She was shaking worse now, and her face had gone from ruddy to very peaked. “He has a debit card from his bank, and a credit card he carries for emergencies.”
“Good, that’s good, we can track that if he’s using it,” Ben said.
“You don’t think something happened to him, do you?” she asked quickly, leaning forward towards the detectives. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to my son.”
“It’s far too early to speculate,” Ben said, holding up a hand, “but I can promise that the moment we hear something, I’ll personally let you know. Believe me, the quicker we can find him, the quicker we can bring him home safely.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a slow breath. “Thank you both for coming by.”
Stella quickly slipped her card onto the table and reached out to take her hand, patting it soothingly. “Listen, Mrs. Thompson, nine times out of ten, things like this turn out to be nothing. Coincidence, if you will. Just think of what we’re doing as being better safe than sorry.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Diana said, suddenly sounding calm and relaxed. “Thank you.”
“You’ll call if you hear from him?” Ben asked, putting his card with Stella’s.
“Absolutely,” Diana said with a smile. “Thank you both for coming by,” she repeated in that same, soothed, quiet tone.
Ben frowned, finding that bizarre, but nevertheless let her walk them to the door. He gave her a little wave as they walked down the path, and when the door shut, he shuddered. “That was creepy.”
“Just a bit,” Stella said. “And also helpful.”
“How so?” Ben asked as they got into his car.
“Because if I didn’t before, I’m almost positive her creepy loner son is involved, if not completely behind our John Doe going missing.”
Chapter
Thirty-Two
To say being back at work was difficult for Mark was an understatement. To don the contacts, the white cane, and the heavy accent without having yet made any real progress was tough. Knowing Yehuda was out there, probably close enough to reach out and touch, was the only thing on his mind, and having to step back and allow Ben to do the leg work was something Mark wasn’t entirely comfortable with.
Mark briefly considered just abandoning his post, renting a small apartment nearby and laying low until he heard from Ben, however Ben and the other detective had gone out of their way to ensure Mark’s job remained intact. They provided the school with documentation proving he was aiding in a police investigation, and though they were none too happy with Mark and Abby taking off the way they had, they were welcomed back to their classes.
He was impossibly stressed, however, in his many centuries of walking the Earth, he had never been so alone; unable to reach out and feel his companion’s presence. Mark hadn’t encountered a single being able to perform such a feat, and he had no way of knowing how to combat it.
The other problem Mark was facing was Abby. She’d slept most of the ride home and didn’t quite seem herself. She hadn’t gone through a personality shift the way Greg had warned him to look for, so Mark figured it had to be something psychological. Likely it was stress, he reasoned as he dropped her off at her apartment. He watched her stumble in, half-awake, face pale and fingers on the door handle trembling.