Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (6 page)

“Sort of. We can still do the interview if you’re up for it. I’m working on a missing persons case and you can sit in on some of the process.”

“Great. I’m on my way.”

When they were in the privacy of the soft interview room, Sophie said, “I met your girlfriend this morning. I like her. She’s a feisty take-charge kind of woman.”

Jackson recoiled from the idea of Sophie chatting up Kera. “How did you meet Kera?”

“Right here, out in the lobby. She had just filed a missing persons report, and I was here to meet you. She told me about Danette. I’m hoping to get a story and photo into the paper.”

“Great. This is one kind of case that needs publicity.”
Unlike all the others you hound me about
. “Let’s get this rolling.”

Sophie looked at her list of questions. “What made you decide to be a cop?”

Jackson decided to share a memory from when he was a kid, hoping it would make the reporter happy so they could move on. “When I was ten, my older brother Derrick and I had a yard service. Once, being lazy kids, we dumped leaves in the trashcan of the crazy old woman next door and she called the police. When the cop showed up at our house wanting to talk to us, I was scared. But he was a good man, gentle, and he listened to us. In the end, he complimented Derrick and me for having our own business. I was captivated by his uniform, his gun, his authority, and his compassion. At that moment, I decided to become a cop when I grew up.”

“Is this the only job you’ve ever had?”

“Since I was twenty-two.”

“Any regrets?”

“None. I love my work. The only downside is sometimes during the first few days of a homicide I have to leave my daughter with her aunt or her mother, but I try to make up for it.” Jackson stood. “Let’s go down to missing persons, so you can see how we work a case.”

In the expanded cubicle area that served as his office, Robert Zapata was on the phone, looking tired and annoyed. He motioned for Jackson to sit, but Jackson waited, not wanting to put pressure on his kidneys until he had to.

“Hey, Jackson. Take a load off.” Zapata rubbed his eyes. “Who is this lovely woman with you?”

“This is Sophie Speranza from the Willamette News. She’s writing a story and is here to observe.” They both took seats, Jackson pulling a chair from a nearby empty desk. “I wanted to let you know what I’d done so far about Danette Blake.”

“I’m listening.”

About halfway through his summary, the front desk officer stepped into the space and announced, “We’ve got another missing woman.”

Chapter 8

“This is Elle Durham. She’d like to speak with you about her daughter.”

A thin blond woman in her late forties slipped into the crowded space. The desk officer backed out to make room. The blond woman had been attractive once, but now her skin seemed too loose for her face. Her gray cashmere pantsuit, on the other hand, fit well. Jackson couldn’t name the designer, but he knew money when he saw it.

In a moment, he recognized her name. Her husband, Dean, now deceased, had invested first in timber, then real estate. The Durhams owned half of downtown Eugene and various other commercial properties.

Jackson looked over at Sophie, hoping she would leave without being asked. Her eyes begged him to let her stay. His expression said no.

“I’ll be in touch about when we can finish this,” she said, gathering her notepad and recorder. They all waited quietly while she put on her coat and left.

Zapata spoke first. “Hello, Ms. Durham. I’m Detective Robert Zapata. Please have a seat.”

“I’m Detective Wade Jackson.” He pulled the chair back for her.

“My daughter, Courtney, didn’t come home last night and didn’t call. I’m very worried.”

“How old is she?” Zapata asked.

“She just turned twenty-one.”

“She lives with you full time?”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Durham seemed surprised by the question.

“When did you see her last?” This was Zapata’s area of expertise, so Jackson let him take the lead. Considering Danette’s disappearance, he intended to hear this one out.

“She left for Diego’s last night around 8:30. Diego’s is a nightclub.”

“Has your daughter ever stayed out all night before?”

A long pause. “Yes, but she always calls.”

“Did she drive to Diego’s? Have you checked to see if her car is in the parking lot?”

“She always takes a cab if she plans to drink, so her car is still in the garage at home.”

“Maybe she went home with someone and slept in.” Zapata kept his voice soft.

“Courtney’s not like that anymore. She has a steady boyfriend now.” Elle Durham twisted her marble-sized diamond ring. “She would have called or come home by now if she was able to. It’s four in the afternoon and no one has seen her. Not Brett, not Brooke. I’ve called everyone.”

“Is Brett her boyfriend?” Zapata keyed something into his computer.

“Yes.”

“What’s his last name and when did he see her last?”

“Brett Fenton. He talked to Courtney on the phone yesterday afternoon.”

“Ms. Durham.” Zapata paused. “According to our records, you reported Courtney missing last March, and she turned up two days later in Seattle, having a good time.”

“Courtney has changed.” Elle’s lower lip trembled and she bit down on it. “She wouldn’t do this to me now. It’s different this time, I can tell.” Her voice rose at the end, pleading.

“I have five other cases,” Zapata said. “Some of those missing people are young children. We can’t afford to waste our time. I don’t mean to sound uncaring, but I suspect your daughter will turn up soon, as she has in the past.”

Elle stiffened. “Are you saying you won’t look for Courtney?”

Zapata shook his head. “I’m saying I can’t make this case a priority. Our resources are stretched thin.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She took a sharp tone. “My late husband made significant donations to the Eugene Public Safety Department. My daughter is missing and I want a proper investigation.”

Jackson was glad not to be sitting on the other side of the desk, and there was nothing he could say to be supportive.

“Of course.” Zapata nodded at Ms. Durham. “What was Courtney wearing when she left the house?”

“I don’t know. I was resting.”

“Do you have a current picture of her with you?”

“Yes.” She pulled a manila envelope from her shoulder bag and slid an eight-by-eleven color print across the desk. Jackson stepped around to look over Zapata’s shoulder. Blond and beautiful, Courtney’s only flaw was that her green eyes were set a little too close together. Still, she was hard to look away from.

Zapata read from his computer screen. “Her last report reads ‘Five-seven, a hundred and twenty pounds, with long blond hair and green-eyes. No scars, tattoos, or piercings.’ Is all that still correct?”

“She has a tattoo on her lower back now. It’s a pink-and-black floral design.” Elle made a face. “It’s hideous, but I couldn’t have stopped her even if I had known in advance.”

Jackson spoke up. “Have you noticed anything different about Courtney’s behavior lately? Any new friends or hobbies or patterns?”

Elle spun around to him. “It’s so hard to tell. Courtney always has something new going on. Lately it’s been this crazy mountain bike riding club. She comes home with scrapes and bruises, but she loves it.” Elle let out a sigh. “I don’t keep track of her friends anymore. I used to try, but it’s impossible.”

“Has she seemed moody or depressed?” Jackson asked.

Ms. Durham gave it some thought. “Courtney is always a little moody, but never depressed. I’m worried that someone drugged her drink or something. I don’t trust that crowd at Diego’s.”

An awkward silence followed. Finally, Zapata said, “We’ll do what we can to find her.”

“That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll put out an alert, then go over to Diego’s and talk to the staff. If you think of anything else that seems important, let us know.”

Ms. Durham seemed reluctant to leave. She looked over at Jackson. “You think something has happened to her, don’t you? What is it? Tell me.” She sounded distraught for the first time.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any theories. Just questions.”

Still, she didn’t look as if she planned to leave.

“You should let us get to work,” Zapata said.

“Fine.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked out.

Zapata shook his head. “I feel sorry for that woman. If I had a daughter like Courtney, I’d lock her up.”

“Does she have an arrest record?”

Zapata glanced at his monitor. “Shoplifting, public drunkenness, and indecent exposure. Nothing too serious, but still, looking for her is a waste of our time.”

“Do you think there’s any possibility Danette Blake’s disappearance is connected to Courtney Durham’s?”

“No.” Zapata gave an emphatic headshake. “Courtney is off on a drunken adventure and forgot to call Mom, and Danette is probably a runaway. That’s my best guess for now.” Zapata stood. “Meanwhile, I’ve got to tell a different mother that her ex-husband quit his job two days ago and most likely left town with her kids.”

“I’ll keep looking into Danette Blake for a while if that helps.”

“Thanks. It does.”

The shabby duplex with the faded paint and empty driveway sank Kera’s spirits. She had wanted Danette to move to Eugene so she could help her with Micah, but she had not envisioned her living here. Clearly, Danette was not around. She had hoped to find her daughter-in-law at home, hiding out, afraid to face her.

Kera parked her Saturn in the carport and climbed out. Instinctively, she looked around to see if anyone was watching. She wasn’t too worried about a neighbor reporting a break-in, but Jackson’s warning that thugs might be watching the house was still on her mind.

Kera marched boldly up to the front door and searched around for a spare key. Nothing above the doorframe and no fake-looking rocks. She moved around to the carport and headed for the side door. A small planter with an ugly cactus sat near the corner, catching the sun. Kera lifted the planter from the bottom to avoid the spikes and there was a key. She started to be appalled, then remembered leaving her own apartment unlocked as a college student so her boyfriend could get in. Dumb.

The house smelled of baby and it seemed obvious nothing major was missing. A laptop sat on the dining table, a TV was tucked into a corner, baby clothes were piled on the couch, and the kitchen sink was full of dishes. Kera was anxious to access the computer, but first she checked Danette’s bedroom. It was as Jackson described—closets and drawers full. Kera looked to the closet floor. Sport shoes, sandals, pumps. No woman would leave all her shoes.

Unless she wanted people to think she had not left of her own free will. Was Danette capable of that kind of manipulation? Kera’s instinct said no. She headed back to the laptop and turned it on. Surprised it had been set to require a password, she typed in
Micah
and was allowed access. Her primary pursuit was the boyfriend, Chad. Kera hoped to find a picture, a last name, possibly a phone number or address. She glanced over her shoulder and out the front window. No one seemed to be aware of her presence here.

Kera opened Danette’s last ten e-mails and quickly scanned them. Most were from a female named Lori who seemed to be a college student at Oregon State University and who chatted about her boyfriend and a professor she really hated. Two of the e-mails were from a guy who signed off as Tree. Kera assumed he was male from the juvenile content and abundance of typos. He also failed to include any contact information. Kera forwarded one of each of their e-mails to her own account rather than take notes.

She opened another group of ten and found nothing mentioning travel plans or Chad. The date on the last one was March 7, two days before Danette had moved to Eugene. It was tempting to respond to each of the mailers, asking if they had seen Danette, but Kera felt a little jumpy about being in the house. She would send the e-mails from her home.

Disappointed, she started to move on, then felt stupid for her oversight. She clicked open the Sent folder and found an e-mail that caught her attention. It was to a woman named Becca. In it Danette commented she’d enjoyed meeting Becca at the center and suggested they babysit for each other. Kera was curious about the center, so she forwarded the e-mail to her account as well. After ten more minutes, she moved on, feeling guilty about the invasion of privacy, especially since she had failed to discover anything that would help find Danette.

She found a folder labeled Pics and opened it. Photo after photo of Micah filled the top half of the file list, followed by pictures of friends–young people Danette’s age–and a few of Margaret and Danette together. The mother and daughter looked unrelated. Kera wondered if Danette’s father was tall and dark like Chad. She smiled, thinking about Jackson, who was also tall and dark-haired with brown-black eyes.

No picture of Chad surfaced anywhere. Just as Kera opened a browser, she heard a car pull up outside. She jerked around and saw a patrol unit parked in front of the house.
Oh dear
. The officer at the wheel had a communicator to his mouth and she suspected he was calling in her license plate. She was going to be arrested. Kera’s heart hammered as she envisioned herself being booked into the jail, stripped, and searched. She stood, took a deep breath, and willed herself to be calm. This was nothing compared to the events she’d already been through. Her life no longer had room for fear.

She picked up the key, went out the side door she’d come in, and walked straight up to the police car. The window was rolled up and the officer motioned her to step back. Kera complied. After a moment, he climbed out. “Put your purse on the ground and identify yourself.” He seemed young, but he had the buzz cut and stiff-shouldered look of a cop who took everything seriously.

“Kera Kollmorgan.” She set her purse on the asphalt. Did he think she had a gun? “My daughter-in-law, Danette Blake, lives here.”

“Her neighbor reported a break in. What are you doing here?”

Kera held out the key. “I have a key to her house. Danette’s baby is at my home right now. Danette hasn’t been seen since yesterday morning. I filed a missing persons report at the department this morning with Detective Zapata.”