Vanished (5 page)

5

7 HOURS MISSING

Mason jogged up his front porch steps, his boots clomping loudly. He considered it a warning to anyone with the balls to break into his house. He was being kind to let them know he was home and saving their asses from being surprised and probably shot. He hadn’t surprised anyone in twenty years; he was disappointed when he pushed the door open and discovered quiet instead of a meth head diving out a window. Apparently he had some extra adrenaline to burn off.

He stepped inside, stopped, and stuck his head back outside to scan his wide porch. All quiet.

No dog.

He gave a couple of soft whistles and a “Here, boy.”

Still quiet. He mentally shrugged and stepped inside, reaching for his cell phone. He needed to pack a bag and talk to his boss. He hadn’t received a reply to the email he’d sent to his sergeant informing him of the shitstorm that’d suddenly opened on Mason’s life. He found his boss in his contacts and pressed the “Call” button. He strode down the hall, his phone to his ear, hitting light switches and checking all the rooms. His usual habit upon getting home.

No meth heads.

His home wasn’t large. It was just right for a single guy who didn’t have time to do yard work and didn’t like to clean. He considered the money he spent on a housekeeper and yard guy twice a month the best investment he’d ever made. He grabbed a carry-on roller bag out of his closet and dumped it on the bed. His boss answered the phone.

“Schefte.”

“Denny. Callahan here. Did you get my email?” Mason pulled a drawer open and grabbed three pairs of socks. Would he need more?

“I did. That missing little girl was on the noon newscast. She’s your ex’s daughter?”

“It’s my ex’s stepdaughter. From her husband’s previous marriage.”

“She’s only eleven,” Schefte muttered. “Goddamn the assholes out there.”

“Amen. And as a heads-up, you might be seeing me on the news. I’m not gonna let the family step in front of any cameras. I’ll handle any public speaking for them. Warn the department the press might be sticking their noses in my business.”

Schefte cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’ll make it clear you’re acting solely as a family member to any press that asks. This is outside our jurisdiction, but you let the FBI know they can ask for any support they need. I’ve got your schedule covered for the next few days. Morales and Hunsinger can pick up any spillover.”

“How are they coming with the Josie Mueller case?”

“Asking lots of questions. She didn’t hang out with the cleanest people, you know. They’re interviewing people who spend more time on the street than with a roof over their heads. As you can imagine, their stories aren’t the most accurate.”

“But something keeps coming up,” Mason stated. He could read between the lines. Something was being mentioned frequently enough to make Morales and Hunsinger look for clarification.

“Yeah, sounds like a john was hanging around her place. There were a couple reports of a regular visitor in jeans and cowboy boots. And some have mentioned a cowboy hat.”

Mason snorted. “You sure they’re not talking about me? But I haven’t been there in months. Of course, they might have no concept of time if they’re using regularly. One of Josie’s rules was that she didn’t bring johns back to her place. She used one of those motels on Barbur. I guess she could have changed. It’s cheaper to use her own place than a motel. I know something was up with her, Denny. She looked like hell this morning; she’d lost a lot of weight.”

“Early forensic reports suggest she was using her apartment for
business.
”

“Shit.”

“You can’t save ’em, Callahan. Especially once they get on the drugs. All they want to do is get money to feed their addiction. When someone like Josie discovers the easiest way is to spread her legs and charge for it, their rules and morals go out the window.”

“Yeah, I know. I’d hoped she’d make it. She was a good kid. Just had some bad luck.” Mason closed his eyes for a second. He had thought he’d gotten through to Josie. She’d seemed determined to turn her life around.
What threw her off course?

And why hadn’t she called him?

She was embarrassed. She knew you wouldn’t approve. So she hid it.

“You taking personal time or vacation?” Schefte asked, abruptly changing the topic.

“Call it vacation.”

Schefte snorted. “Since you never take your vacation time, I think you’ve got more accrued than the entire department put together.”

“What would I do on vacation? Sit on my porch and watch people drive by?”

“How about go to Hawaii? Or Vegas for a week? That’s what normal people do.”

“Too hot.” Mason tucked the phone under his shoulder as he dug three T-shirts out of a drawer, rolled them up, and neatly tucked them in the suitcase. Two pairs of identical jeans followed.

“Then take a cruise to Alaska.”

“That’s what old people do. I’d be bored out of my brain.”

“You’re not a spring chicken anymore. When’s the big five-oh coming up for you?”

Asshole.
“I’ll always be younger than you.” He had a few years before that looming milestone.

“Keep me in the loop. Email me on Monday with an update. For now, I’m clearing next week for you.”

Mason froze as he reached for an ironed shirt in his closet.
A week?
Would it take that long?

Schefte was quiet for several beats. “And Callahan?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope they find the son of a bitch and bring her home safe.” Schefte spit the words.

“You and me both.” Mason hit “End” and tossed his phone on the bed, his vision narrowing at the thought of Henley in the hands of a pervert.
Keep her safe.
Please let this be a ransom case. Someone after a piece of Lucas Fairbanks’s money. Ransom cases treated their victims better. Their motivation was money. Not something unmentionable.

The doorbell interrupted his packing.

His partner, Ray Lusco, stood on his front porch, his linebacker-wide shoulders blocking the sunlight. “Hey, your dog wants in,” he announced as Mason opened the door. A black mutt with a white chest and socks trotted in.

“Not my dog,” said Mason.

The dog headed straight for the bowls of dog food and water directly to the right of the door.

“It acts like your dog.”

“Not my dog,” Mason repeated. He watched the animal inhale the food. He hadn’t seen the dog since yesterday, and it acted like it hadn’t found anything to eat since then.

Ray stared at him. “When did you get a dog?”

“He showed up a few weeks ago. I feed him every now and then. I don’t know if he belongs to someone in the neighborhood or got dumped here.”

“Did you call the county?”

“No, I checked all the missing dog sites I could find. He doesn’t have any tags. I keep expecting him to disappear.” Mason scratched his temple. He didn’t know what to do about the dog. What if he took the dog to the county and it turned out to belong to a neighbor?

“You should take him in. Maybe he’s got one of those chips.”

The dog finished its food, sat, and stared at Mason expectantly.

“He’s still hungry.” Ray pointed out the obvious.

Mason went to the kitchen and got the bag of dog food from under his sink. He dumped another serving in the bowl, and the dog went back to work. Ray eyed the food bag.

“You act like you have a dog.”

Mason scowled at him. “I got tired of feeding him half of my frozen pizzas. This was easier. He hangs around constantly.”

“Because he knows you’re a softy and give him food.”

The dog left some food in his bowl and trotted over to the area rug in the living room, turned three times, and flopped down with a sigh.

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “Holy crap, that dog has picked you. I thought I’d never see the day. You need to take him to the vet and get him scanned for a chip before you get too attached to him.”

“I won’t get attached to him. I don’t like dogs. Too much work. And who’s gonna let him in and out all day when I’m at work?”

“Put in a dog door. Your backyard has a good fence. You really need to take better care of him instead of letting him roam,” Ray pointed out.

“Screw you.”

Ray grinned. “You talk to Schefte yet?”

“Yeah, I’m clear for the next week.”

“Shit. Think it’ll take that long?”

“It’ll take as long as it takes.” Mason didn’t want to think about it. “You good with the McGregor and Temple cases?”

“Yeah, those won’t be a problem. You taking a few days off actually happened at a pretty opportune time.” Ray scowled. “That didn’t sound right.”

“There’s no good time for crap like this to happen. I know what you meant.” Ray was right. Their case load had lightened a bit of late. People were more focused on the holiday instead of committing major crimes. And it’d been really cold. That always calmed crime down for them. For some reason, people were better behaved when it was freezing outside.

“So you’re moving into the Fairbanks place?”

“For now. If this doesn’t get resolved quickly, there’s gonna be a media storm, and the family needs someone to ask the right questions of the police and FBI. I think they were relieved when I offered to be their go-between. That way they can focus on themselves and not constantly wonder if the investigators are getting shit done. That’ll be my job.”

“You talk to the FBI already?”

“A bit. Remember Ben Duncan?”

“Yeah, he’s a good one.”

“It’s his case. He’s waiting for the CARD team to swoop in, but he’s got a hundred pairs of feet on the street already. And he planted an agent in Lucas and Robin’s place. That’ll help me out, too.”

“I don’t think the CARD team has been called into the Portland area in four years.”

Mason nodded. He and Ray were familiar with the case of an eight-year-old who’d vanished from his school. The boy was still missing.

“There’re some similarities there,” Ray pointed out. “The school. Divorced parents.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the FBI zeroed in on that immediately. Honestly, I don’t see it. I think this is a stranger abduction. That case focused on family members.”

“Stranger abduction? Those are pretty rare.”

“True. But I know this family. None of them would do this,” Mason argued.

“You know the birth mom’s friends? She’s not remarried, right? What about the guys she’s dated? There are all sorts of people in their circles that you aren’t aware of.”

Mason silently swore. Ray was right. He’d let his knowledge of the family narrow his vision of the entire investigation. But it wasn’t his investigation; he was an observer.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t poke around a bit on his own.

“What the hell are you thinking about?” Ray asked. “You look ready to go dig up some graves.”

“I’m not investigating this case.”

“But you should have a good view of what’s happening. Do they have a command center set up somewhere?”

“Yes, there’s a church a couple of blocks away. I’m gonna swing by there on my way back and stick my nose in. I want them to get used to seeing me around.”

“They gonna have any problem with that?”

“I don’t think so. Duncan seemed like he almost expected me to insert myself into the liaison role. As long as I’m not interfering, I think he’ll be happy to use me to communicate with the family.”

“Who’s the agent they embedded?”

“A Special Agent McLane. I didn’t catch the first name, but Robin and Lilian seemed very comfortable with her, so that’s good if she’s gonna be around twenty-four seven. Seems sharp and levelheaded. Ever heard of her?”

“No. Want me to ask?”

“Yes. See what her reputation is. I’d like to know who’s living in the same house with my kid.”

“How’s Jake holding up?”

“Shitty. He’s pretty attached to Henley. Makes me feel like an ass that I barely even know who the girl is.”

“Of course he’s attached. She’s his little sister. Doesn’t matter that they’re not blood. I’m sure they spent a lot of time together.”

“He’s upset that Christmas is next week.”

“They’ll find her before that.”

Silence stretched out between them. Both men knew there were no guarantees that Henley would be home before Christmas. As the hours slipped by, her chances of coming home grew thinner. Ray looked at the dog on the rug. A soft, doggy snore was audible.

“You should keep the dog,” Ray said. “Looks like he’s chosen you anyway. They say it’s healthy to have a pet around. It’s good to have something to take care of, you know?”

“Yeah? Well, who’s gonna watch him while I’m gone?” Mason looked expectantly at Ray.

Ray backed up a step. “I can’t take him home with me. Jill’s allergic.”

Mason sighed and looked at the dog. “I’ll put something on the porch for him to sleep in and move his bowls out there. My neighbor can dump some food in it. We’ll see if he sticks around.”

The dog raised his head, looked at Mason, and thumped his tail.

“Looks like you have a new family member,” stated Ray. “About time.”

6

8 HOURS MISSING

Ava showed her ID to the Clackamas County deputy standing watch at the church entrance. She was pleased that he looked hard at her picture and her face before letting her in. “Follow the hallway to your right. You’ll find the room by all the voices,” he told her.

She stepped inside the building and was greeted by the sight of four-dozen poinsettias in different shades of red. It was one of those megachurches that felt almost like a huge school instead of a house of worship. It definitely didn’t feel like the ornate Catholic church she’d attended as a child. She hadn’t set foot in a church in twenty years except to attend weddings, and a bit of guilt flowed through her. It almost felt wrong that the command post had been set up in a house of God, but maybe it would bring some divine guidance to their search.

She turned to the right and followed the hum of voices. Outside, the parking lot was full of police vehicles from local and federal agencies. This case wasn’t going to suffer from a lack of manpower. Her stomach twisted a bit in excitement. The thrill of the hunt. The FBI at full throttle was a beautiful sight.

And she got to sit in the house with the family and hold their hands.

Part of her was flattered that Ben had chosen her to stand in for the FBI’s pregnant victim specialist, but another part ached to pound the pavement with the rest of the team. She’d dropped Lilian off at the Fairbanks house, checked in to see if anyone needed anything, and told them she’d be back in an hour. She wanted to see the command center and remind the other agents that she was still part of the case. In the Fairbanks home, she’d be out of sight and out of mind. She didn’t want the agency to overlook any contribution they knew she could bring.

The hum of voices grew louder, and she stopped at the door to a giant multipurpose room. Long tables and folding chairs filled the room. Computer monitors dotted the tables every few feet along with miles of dangling computer cords. Agents were seated in front of half of the computers while techs continued to wire the rest of the monitors and equipment. One wall of the room had three huge whiteboards. On one of them, someone had started the timeline. The timeline board was a key element of their investigation. Every incident was noted with its time. Stepping closer she could read “left home for the bus” and the timing of the school’s first, second, and third parent notifications among the dozen markers.

Blown-up pictures of Henley and her family were posted with tags stating each person’s name and age. Ava mentally called it the player board, since it identified each person involved in the case. She noticed that photos of teachers from Henley’s school and the bus driver had been added beside the family photos.

Maps of the city and neighborhood were posted next to the photos. Red and green pins with flags indicated something that Ava wasn’t privy to. Yet. She scanned further and studied the start of the lead-management chart. It documented the leads spilling in from the public and to whom they were assigned for follow-up. It had over a hundred and fifty entries already.

She turned back to the room. Someone had created paper signs indicating the area of interest assigned to each group of computers: school, neighbors, media, and police. Ava knew that was just the beginning.

A plainclothes policeman leaning over the shoulder of one of the Clackamas County deputies at the police table turned toward her, and she recognized Robin Fairbanks’s ex-husband, the Oregon State Police detective, Mason Callahan. Shrewd brown eyes met hers, and he nodded in recognition. She noticed he had a cowboy hat in one hand and wondered if he would have tipped his hat at her if it’d been on his head. Few people could get away with dressing like that in the suburbs of Portland, but this man made it work. Something about him was extremely old-fashioned, but in a good way. It wasn’t the cowboy boots and hat. It was the man himself. He put out a no nonsense aura, and she got the feeling that he wouldn’t be afraid to use his fists or boots in a physical fight. He studied the world around him with a calm look, as if he had seen it all and could size up a situation in a matter of seconds.

With an investigator’s eye, Ava studied the man who was going to be her housemate for as long as it took to bring Henley home. She’d noticed in their brief meeting that his eyes rarely reflected surprise, something she’d seen in FBI agents who’d spent years on the job. The job sucked something out of a person, and often it was the part of a person that experienced shock.

In the right person, it was replaced with confidence and logical thinking. In the wrong person, it could be replaced with addiction and burnout. It took a truly evil event to shock even her these days. She crossed her fingers that this case would not turn out that way.

In her brief meeting with Mason Callahan, she’d seen the right things and heard the right things from the people who knew him. But she knew better than to make snap decisions about a person. She’d reserve judgment for later. She’d interviewed too many pathological liars and pretenders. She’d even grown up with one.

Her personal cell buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out.

Speak of the devil.

She let her sister’s call go to voice mail. If it was urgent, Jayne would send a text, knowing Ava was slow to listen to personal voice mails.

Ava and Jayne had wildly different interpretations of “urgent.”

No one seemed to have noticed her besides Callahan. She walked slowly past the boards, eyeing the operation in its infancy. Sanford, the agent Ben Duncan had put in charge of setting up the center, was in his element. He was deep in discussion with two special agents and a Clackamas County deputy, writing furiously in a notepad and pointing at two banks of unused computers. Ava wrinkled her nose as the scent of salami reached it. To one side was the cornerstone of any operation: food. Three coffee urns, two deli meat-and-cheese trays, and four huge packs of bottled water sat on a long table with several pink boxes of donuts.

Her stomach churned. She couldn’t eat processed food. The lining of her stomach didn’t allow for it. She swore her brain also functioned better when she ate simpler. Her weakness was pizza, and she paid the price for two days when she indulged.

She approached Special Agent Sanford and his group. He glanced up and nodded at her. “Hey, Ava.” Her spine relaxed a degree. He’d forgiven her for taking his interviewing position in the home. He probably thought she’d caught a shit assignment of staying with the family while he would be in the center of the action.

Her chin lifted a notch. Sanford could never do her current assignment.

“You need to get some decent food in here, Sanford,” she said. “Or you’re going to have a team with severe headaches. Get some fresh fruit and salads. Ask the deli to bring in some protein that hasn’t been processed and loaded with salt and chemicals.”

His eyes narrowed briefly. She knew he didn’t order the food, but she felt like getting under his skin a bit. And if she had been assigned to the command center, she’d want a healthier selection. One of the agents chimed in. “Good point. I’m trying to eat Paleo these days. Keeps the brain focused.” He caught a glare from Sanford.

Ava bit back a smile and kept walking. She found herself drawn to the computer bank where Callahan and the Clackamas County deputy were in deep discussion about the report on the monitor, a city map with a few highlighted spots. She moved closer and her stomach clenched.
Sex offenders.

She stopped and stared at their screen, her focus zooming in on the Fairbankses’ location. Two dots appeared on homes in the same neighborhood. She exhaled. No doubt those were the first homes where Ben Duncan had ordered agents to knock on doors. Callahan looked up and met her gaze.

“Both offenders were home when Clackamas County knocked earlier today,” he said. “They even agreed to a search. Nothing turned up. They’ve expanded the search and even sent special agents back to these two homes for a second visit already.”

“Good.” Ava memorized the location of both homes. She’d drive by on her way back to the Fairbanks house. Daily. She’d jog or drive by daily. Real slow.

“We’re lucky this didn’t happen in another part of Portland. In some neighborhoods, you’d see a dozen dots in a single block,” he added.

She noticed Callahan’s expression was carefully blank. No doubt he’d had his share of sex offender cases. Two agents strode into the command center and made a beeline for the grouping of computers next to Ava and Callahan. Tension radiated from the two men, and every head in the center turned to look as if they’d been expected. Uneasiness spread through the room. Ava scanned the curious faces watching the agents and decided to step away to give them some space. Already, other agents were moving toward the other men.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Detective Callahan?” she offered. Now was as good a time as any to get some insight on the rest of the family. The blended Fairbanks family couldn’t be as cheery as they projected, right? If she was going to spend time with them, she wanted every bit of information she could get. The investigation would look at the family first. Possibly, she’d see something in the house that wouldn’t come across in a formal interview. She liked the parents; she hoped none of them were involved. But until the FBI cleared them . . .

Callahan held her gaze for two seconds. “I’ll pass on the coffee, but I’ll take a bottled water and maybe a donut.”

She smiled and jerked her head at the table of preservatives. Callahan excused himself from the deputy, who simply nodded, not looking away from his screen of dots.

Mason followed Special Agent McLane in the direction of the food. He was starving. He hated to raid their food since he wasn’t part of the official team, but he figured they wouldn’t miss one donut. Besides, the pastries turned into rocks if they weren’t eaten right away. Hopefully they had a maple donut topped with bacon from Voodoo Donuts. That would be as good as a real meal; it had protein.

He spotted his prey and took a bite of goodness, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Hungry?” he asked Ava.

She shook her head. “I like donuts, but I don’t know what they put in those. I’m not twenty anymore. My body gives me hell for two days if I load up on preservatives or unpronounceable ingredients.”

He nodded as he chewed. He understood that. Wine gave him headaches, so he didn’t drink it. That was an easy fix, since he didn’t care for wine anyway, but avoiding donuts must have sucked.

Special Agent McLane was an attractive woman. He hadn’t noticed it before and suspected she downplayed her looks. Her dark-brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her makeup was minimal, but she had a freshness to her skin that spoke of good health and clean living. Her eyes were an intense dark blue that sparkled with intelligence. The longer he looked at her, the more surprised he was that her looks hadn’t immediately jumped out at him. He was still taken in by the smooth voice. Maybe it had distracted him at their first meeting.

“What’s your first name, Agent McLane?”

Blue eyes blinked. “Ava. I’m sorry. You’re Mason, right?”

Mason nodded.
Ava. A movie-star name.
“And we’re going to be housemates for a few days.”

“Hopefully not for that long.”

“Amen to that.”

“What are your thoughts on this?”

It was a wide-open question. Mason took another bite of donut and thought carefully before answering. “I don’t know. Her parents are good people. I’m leaning toward a stranger abduction—”

“Stranger abductions are very rare.”

He took another bite of donut and slowly chewed. If she was going to interrupt him, then she could wait. “I know. But I don’t think you’ll find the answer in the immediate family. Now, people
outside
the family are a different matter. Maybe a client or coworker of Lucas Fairbanks’s, or a past boyfriend of Lilian’s.”

The pocket of her navy blazer vibrated, and he popped the last of the donut in his mouth as she pulled out her phone and glanced at her screen. Annoyance flashed across her face, and she dropped the phone back in her pocket.

“Need to make a call?” he prodded. She hadn’t been happy to see the name of whoever had contacted her. His gut told him it was personal, but he didn’t want to keep her if it was her job.

“No. It’s not work.”

Score one for his gut.

He kept his mouth closed, giving her a chance to explain. People usually liked to talk about themselves if you gave them the chance.

Special Agent McLane didn’t fall for his usual interviewing trick. She smiled politely at him, took a drink from her bottled water, and went back to their topic. “You don’t think the girl ran away? How well did you know her?”

“I didn’t know her well at all. I’m going by what Robin says. That woman, I do know. If she’s convinced Henley’s not a runner, then I’ll take her word for it.”

“But kids hide things from their parents all the time. I doubt Robin or Lilian knew everything Henley looked at online.”

“That’s why the FBI took the computers, right? I assume that’s the first thing they’ll be looking at. I don’t know why you’re asking me about it.” He gave her a pointed look. “You’re FBI, why don’t you look into what they found?”