Vanishing Day Page 14

  This was probably how her grandmother felt when they started making cars with electric windows instead of ones that rolled up and down with little, manual cranks. Realizing she was being curmudgeonly, she thanked the young man and practiced turning her car off and on before putting it in gear and heading downtown. It was only 10:30 a.m., but she was starved. Destination? Than’s Pho. Nothing a huge, hot bowl of beef soup couldn’t fix.

  Traffic was light, so she decided to try the hands-free calling feature to check in with Ben. She glanced down at her phone to make sure Bluetooth was on. It automatically paired with the Tucson.

  “Call Ben,” she said, speaking slowly and at higher volume, like people do to the hard of hearing, or foreigners.

  “Calling Ben,” a pleasant, female voice lilted in response.

  Ben answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Beautiful! You make it in OK?”

  He sounded much more coherent than he did last night when she tucked him into bed and kissed him goodnight on the forehead. They talked for a few minutes, then he said his sister was calling him for lunch. If he was upset about her not immediately embracing his desire to have a baby, he didn’t let it show.

  Good.

  Logan wasn’t ready to talk about that yet.

  40

  “Mr. Delaney?”

  “Yes?”

  Andrews identified himself as the Crimes Against Persons Detective from Jasper, CA.

  Garrett started to sweat.

  Jasper.

  What was a Crimes Against Persons Detective? How much did the police know and why were they calling?

  He’d have to be very careful how he answered this guy’s questions.

  Even though the Detective couldn’t see him, Garrett sat up straighter, then leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation and a man who had nothing to hide.

  “Mr. Delaney, I am calling to check on the whereabouts of one of your employees, Mr. Neal Everly,” Andrews stated. “Has he reported for work today or have you heard from him?”

  Of course, Neal’s PO would have him down as the employer. But that didn’t explain how a Detective in Jasper even knew Neal Everly existed. Unless ... Garrett’s stomach did a flip. He thought he might lose his lunch.

  There was only one explanation.

  Neal’s body must have washed up. He didn’t see how that was possible, but it must have or this Detective wouldn’t be calling.

  “No, he hasn’t reported for work today,” he said, “in fact, all week. I’ve been very concerned. He didn’t show up Monday morning. I haven’t seen or heard from him since last Friday.”

  “What about your family or other employees. Has anyone had any contact with Mr. Everly since you last saw him on Friday? Did anyone see him after you did? Have you or your family received any emails, phone calls, or personal visits?” Andrews asked.

  “No, as I said, we have heard nothing from him,” Garrett said, a defensive tone creeping into his voice. He decided to ad lib.

  “He did mention something about wanting to visit family. We don’t have any of his personal information. His parole officer would, I presume. It would have to be local family, of course, I don’t know if you were aware, but Mr. Everly was on parole. They don’t let them go out of state without previous permission. I don’t know, maybe he had that. Have you checked with his parole officer?”

  Andrews continued without acknowledging or answering Garrett’s questions. “What was the exact nature of Mr. Everly’s employment with you?”

  “I did him a favor, really,” Garrett said, sounding really put out now. “I try to give back to the community whenever I can. That’ll teach me, right?”

  “What did you hire him to do?” Andrews asked again, getting annoyed with this guy.

  “He was just a driver,” Garrett said.

  “What kind of driving, Mr. Delaney?”

  “I hired him to drive my family to and from appointments, school, errands, etc.,” Garrett said.

  “He was your chauffeur? Did he live on the premises?”

  “No, nothing that formal. He lived on his own. Reported for work at the house by 7:30 a.m., then made himself available as needed during the day. Clocked out at 5:00 p.m.”

  “Has your wife heard from him?”

  “No, of course not. He simply did the driving. He would have no reason to contact my wife. All contact was through me,” Garrett added.

  “Why would you hire a criminal to drive your family around, Mr. Delaney?” Andrews asked. “Doesn’t seem the normal job-candidate pool to pull from.”

  He wanted to rattle this guy’s cage. Delaney was hiding something, Andrews just didn’t know what.

  “To be honest, I hired him before I knew he was on parole. I was at a social gathering, talking about how hard it was to find someone reliable who’d work on call for an hourly rate, and a business acquaintance told me about his driver. He was having to let him go because he was relocating. He gave him a glowing reference.

  Later, when I found out Neal had a prison record, I called his parole officer and was assured Neal—Mr. Everly—was completely non-violent and had fulfilled all of his correctional obligations. Until this week, when he didn’t show up for work, I would have given him a stellar review myself,” he said.

  This guy was almost too easy to needle.

  Andrews continued in a crisp monotone, “Regardless, I’ll need to speak with your wife, get the full names of your children and their schools. You never know, sometimes drivers get friendlier with the wife and kids than with their employer. I assume he was with them many hours every day.”

  Andrews let the innuendo dangle.

  Delaney seethed, but kept a lid on it. How dare this asshole imply Lauren and Neal were ‘friendly’!

  “My wife is out of town right now, Detective, family camping trip. I’m supposed to join them this weekend. I’ll have her contact you Monday,” Garrett said. “But I doubt she has any pertinent information for you. Lauren’s focused on taking care of the home and our daughter. I handle all the finances.”

  “OK Mr. Delaney, I’ll be in touch,” he said.

  Andrews wasn’t buying any of this, but he didn’t want to push this guy yet.

  He’d get on a plane right now if the wife and daughter turned out to be Lori and Shannon. But there was a slim to zero chance of that. He couldn’t be that lucky. If Delaney was Lori’s husband and she ran away from him, she would almost certainly have changed her name, so there was a chance.

  If it was them, then Delaney must have tracked them down somehow. This guy fit at least one trait of the typical spousal abuser: controlling male chauvinist, but Andrews knew he would need a lot more than loose connections, guesses and coincidences before he could take it to a judge and get a warrant.

  On the other hand, the driver looked good for it. Ex-con, couldn’t place him at the scene, but he was in town, not Delaney. He had the criminal record. Delaney could have sent the driver down to get his wife and daughter, but that didn’t explain the beating, and it didn’t fit the profile. Spousal abusers reached high rage in person. What reason would the driver have to put his employer’s wife in the hospital?

  No, it wasn’t that simple. There was more going on here. He wasn’t even sure the two cases were related. It would be a huge coincidence, but it’s possible Neal Everly’s death had nothing to do with his Jane Doe winding up in ICU at Hoag.

  He itched to grill Delaney, but first, he needed to do his homework. Build a case. From the ground up.

  As soon as they had enough, Andrews could coordinate with Seattle PD. Canvass the guy’s neighborhood, workplace, get a search warrant for the driver’s residence.

  Until then, there was a lot they could do here. Diaz was back. They divvied up the legwork. Diaz would do the computer searches: find out the full names of the wife and daughte
r, along with her maiden name. Get in touch with any relatives. Get their pictures, the number and type of vehicles this guy owned. Name of the school the child attended, any incidents, call outs to the home, etc.

  The woman going by the name of Lori Wright couldn’t be matched to any pictures Diaz dug up, due to her facial injuries. They could do a preliminary match up with approximate age, build and skin and eye coloring—but nothing definitive. The little girl’s pictures though, should match. Even if she dyed her hair, they’d be able to tell if it was her.

  Andrews reached for the phone. He needed to speak with Everly’s parole officer again, see if he had a history of violence or abuse. Just because Delaney said he was clean, didn’t mean he was.

  He also needed to run Delaney’s name through every database they had and look into his hedge fund company. Andrews knew his limitations when it came to money beyond keeping his checking account from going in the red. The stock market, investing, that new thing, cryptocurrency, they were equally foreign to him. He rationalized his ignorance. If he had any money to invest, he would learn about it, but that had never been much of a problem.

  He’d see if Lutrell in Financial Crimes could walk him through some basics...enough to know what he was looking for.

  Andrews felt the first trickle of adrenaline in his veins. He didn’t know which piece of evidence would unlock the puzzle, but he knew it was in there, buried amidst mountains of useless information.

  And they were going to find it.

  41

  Logan found parking on Alder and crossed at the light to the food court. These two downtown blocks offered some of the best eating in Portland. Food truck heaven. Thai, Korean, Japanese, German, Korean, Chinese, Middle Eastern, gelato, donuts, coffee...the heavenly aromas were a daily offering to the culinary gods. If Martha Stewart had an altar, this would be her incense.

  Logan headed for a small white truck, brand spanking new, tucked in between the Korean fusion truck on the corner and a kabob place on the other side. Huey had filled Logan in. After the insurance company finally paid up, Thanh was able to replace the old Airstream with a newer, larger truck, hire some help, and expand her menu. Still primarily a pho truck, she now offered Vietnamese sandwiches, banh mi, and a wider variety of coffee drinks, including a thick, Syrian brew supplied by the proprietor of the kabob truck next door, a shy, handsome young man named Tamim. The fire that destroyed her original truck had started a fire that destroyed most of his as well. While cleaning up and refitting both sites, the two had been spending quite a bit of time together.

  Lunch was just ramping up and Thanh finished taking an order at the front window, then passed it back to her new helpers. When she turned back, she caught sight of Logan walking up.

  “Hey! Huey said you might come by,” she said. “Don’t tell me, beef pho large, very hot—beef raw and on the side—right?”

  Thanh had taught her how to order. By adding the thinly sliced beef medallions directly into the scalding broth, they cooked instantly and tasted much fresher than if they were added in first and then served.

  “Yes! I’m starved. It smells so good, Thanh,” Logan answered, her mouth watering. She grabbed a chair at one of the cafe tables and sat down. Even though there were double what there used to be, Logan knew from experience seating was scarce. Most had no space between their serving space and the curb. Thanh was in a great spot.

  Another customer stepped forward, and then a group of four. Thanh took their orders quickly and efficiently, then motioned for someone to cover the window while she brought Logan’s food out.

  “I added some banh mi for us,” she said, joining Logan at her table, grabbing half a crusty baguette sandwich for herself. “We just started carrying these. I brought out a sampler. You’ll have to tell me which ones you like.”

  Logan dug in. She didn’t have to be asked twice, and had no trouble polishing off two of the sandwich samples in addition to her pho.

  Thanh absolutely glowed with good health and happiness. Logan couldn’t believe this was the same woman. When Huey introduced Logan to his sister, Thanh was deathly sick with Hepatitis C and in desperate need of a liver transplant. Days later, she lost her mother-in-law and only source of livelihood in the violent explosion of her food truck. As soon as he found out he was a good match, Huey came to the rescue and the operation was a success. Thanh spent the next two years mourning the death of her former mother-in-law, regaining her strength and health, and re-creating her business. Amazing woman.

  Lunch rush in full swing now, Thanh needed to go back inside, but made Logan promise to stop by on her return trip and spend more time—maybe grab dinner out or find some live music. Paula’s old roommate, Rheanna, dispatcher by day, singer by night, was always performing somewhere in town.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  12:30 p.m.

  Time to hit the road. Back in the car, Logan pointed the Tucson west and kept her fingers crossed. Portland traffic wasn’t as bad as LA, or even Seattle, but sometimes it got close. Lunch hour and 5:00 rush were getting almost indistinguishable.

  Accepting the diminished pace, Logan lowered her shoulders from around her ears, and gave Bonnie a call. How had she ever lived without Bluetooth calling? Bonnie’s voice came through loud and clear from the speakers. She was in the teacher’s lounge but stepped outside so she could hear. It was always loud in there.

  Trapped in their classrooms all day, knowing they had only 40 minutes to enjoy some adult conversation, not counting going to the bathroom, teachers talked up a storm to fit everything in before the bell rang. Then they all queued up at either the copy machine or the restroom to try to squeeze in one more item of personal business before their kids got restless in line or the principal noticed they were late.

  “Hi, where are you?” Bonnie asked.

  “Just outside Portland. Stopped by Thanh’s for lunch,” Logan said.

  “How’s she doing?” Bonnie asked.

  “Great!” Logan said.

  Knowing she only had a few more minutes, Bonnie got right to the point.

  “Well, nothing much new happening here. Lori is still in the ICU. Shannon’s fine, adjusting well—for now anyway. We all adore her and Haley is hooked. I don’t think kids process time the way we do; she asks for her mom at night, but she’s OK during the day,” she said. “And how about you? Have you thought anymore about what Ben said?” she asked.

  Bonnie had been the first person Logan called when Ben sprang his news on her.

  “No, not really. I haven’t had time. Maybe after I finish up with Huey and get to Rita’s house out on the coast I’ll be able to think it through,” Logan said. “I don’t know a soul out there and Rita swears there’s nothing but ocean, beach and trees.”

  “That would drive me crazy, but it sounds perfect for you,” Bonnie said.

  Logan laughed. Bonnie wasn’t happy unless she was surrounded by noise, juggling a gazillion projects in the air, while simultaneously bandaging a child’s knee and talking on the phone. There was absolutely no white space on Bonnie’s calendar.

  Logan heard a familiar, insistent clanging in the background. She was so glad she didn’t have to live her life by the bell anymore. She’d lasted only one year as a classroom teacher.

  “OK, gotta run,” Bonnie said, “but I’ve got some information on that score for you. Just some things for you to think about. I’ll fill you in later!”

  And with that she was gone.

  Logan wondered what ground Bonnie wanted to cover they hadn’t already covered in their marathon phone call Monday night. Guess she’d find out later. For now, she was looking forward to getting to the New School and spending the rest of the afternoon ensconced in the computer lab with Huey. When she talked math and music, the rest of the world faded away. They’d work for a few hours. Dinner was promptly at 6:00. Students ate breakfast and lunch on campus in the large dinin
g hall, but would all have been picked up by 4:00 or 5:00 p.m.

  Logan looked forward to catching up with everyone. Glenda, experienced herbalist and her old school nurse from Jasper. Glenda was Logan’s original contact at the New School, introduced her to Rita as well as Carla, the office manager who made killer oatmeal cookies the size of a dinner plate; G.I. Joe, homeless Vietnam vet turned master gardener; Nick, their talented chef; Brittany, the botanist and woodworker who jump-started the organic garden and designed the clever, moveable chicken runs. Logan really loved the people Rita had attracted to her dream project.

  Some people were missing, but not all were missed. Logan was sad to hear the Southern Gentleman, as they’d nicknamed Greg, a popular English teacher at the school, had moved on to greener pastures. Carla’s lazy, surly, now ex-husband, left last year. Carla finally dropkicked him to the curb.

  Good riddance!

  Taking the second turnoff after Red Barn Antiques and Fruit Stand, Logan soon found herself smoothly climbing up the gently winding road. She reached up and opened the sunroof, letting in the sibilant babble of Whisper Creek, and the heavily oxygenated and moisture-laden air. Up here in the Pacific Northwest, although the day was bright and sunny, the air was cool and it had rained earlier this morning, washing everything clean and green.

  As always, when relaxed, Logan’s thoughts turned to food. She wondered what delicious repast Nick was whipping up for dinner tonight. Since today was a non-student day, he didn’t have to make lunch for the kiddos. Maybe he would have more time to indulge his creative chef side.

  With a will of its own, Logan’s right foot responded to her subconscious request and pressed just a little harder on the accelerator. The Tucson didn’t handle as well as Lola on the curves, but it had surprising power and, with the sunroof open, almost felt like a top-down ride.