Page 7

Chapter 7

Jay

I took advantage of the time alone with Darling to ask him a few conversational questions while I methodically filled out the receipt. Contrary to what Maxwell said, he seemed more comfortable talking to me without her.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. How is Mrs. Darling holding up?” From the photos I’d seen in the living room, I guessed she was no longer in the picture. I wondered if he’d told her Wendy was missing; surely she’d be here if she knew.

“She thinks I’m over-reacting.” He played with his finger where his ring had been. “She left me for another guy a year ago.”

My gut twisted into a thousand knots. Cheating bitch . I forced my jaw to relax before saying, “I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t have to feign my empathy .

Maxwell returned from the bathroom, but instead of interrupting, she watched from the edge of the room. When I raised an eyebrow in question, she signaled for me to keep going.

“How did Wendy handle it?”

He laughed. “She said she’s fine, but you know what it means when a woman says she’s fine.”

I laughed with him. “Yeah, she’s anything but.”

“She admitted to not liking the guy her mother moved in with, which is why she lives with me.” I considered asking the man’s name, but didn’t want to sidetrack him. It’d be easy enough to find out.

“Do you think he’s dangerous?” I asked.

Maxwell and I watched carefully as he answered.

“What? No, he’s a jerk but I don’t think he’d hurt Wendy.”

Maxwell walked in and asked, “Almost done?” I took it as her signal it was time to go.

“I just need your John Hancock here.” I pointed to the line. After he signed I gave him the top copy and put our copy in my backpack. “Thank you, Mr. Darling. If you hear from Wendy, or think of something else that might be helpful, please don’t hesitate to call.”

I shook his hand before handing him a business card.

“Thank you.” He extended his hand to shake Maxwell’s.

“We’ll keep you updated on our progress,” she said.

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” he asked.

“We’ll do our best,” Maxwell answered.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t promise any more than that.

“Nice job getting him to open up like that,” Maxwell said after we got back in my truck.

“You say that like you’re surprised.” I was tired of her treating me like an idiot.

“Learn how to take a compliment, Sheppard.”

I turned over the engine and revved it instead of answering her.

She sighed.

“What did you find in the bathroom?” I asked.

“Two toothbrushes and a hairbrush,” she said. “What else did you learn from Darling?”

“He hasn’t taken down the family photos. In fact, he picked up a wedding photo more than once, and there are tracks in the dust near the other photos.”

“He misses her,” Maxwell said, it felt more like she was thinking out loud than talking to me but I answered anyway.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I didn’t have to turn my head to feel the heat of her glare.

“Continue,” she said, through gritted teeth.

“Wendy’s an only child. As you so cleverly stated, he’s still pining for his ex. He also confirmed the second car in the driveway is Wendy’s.”

“Anything else?” she asked as she typed notes on her phone.

“That’s not enough?”

She rested her hands in her lap, the tension in them obvious from her white-knuckle grip on her phone. She turned to me, and said, “If it’s all you have, then it’s enough. It was a question, Sheppard, not a judgment.”

What was it about her that made me so defensive?

“You heard the rest.”

“Did you pick up on anything while I searched?”

“He watched you like a hawk, but not like he was worried you’d steal something. More like curiosity. He reached for his ring a lot, he did it at the table, too. I think it’s a combination of nerves and missing his ex.”

“Thank you,” she said, sounding more exasperated than mad.

“You’re welcome.” My tone matched hers.

After a few minutes of nothing but country music filling the cab, I asked, “Do you think Darling has something to do with her disappearance?” I didn’t get that vibe, but Maxwell was the profiler.

“What’s your gut tell you?” she asked.

I didn’t expect her to ask my opinion. Or was she testing me, waiting for me to fuck up?

“I don’t think so. He seems genuinely concerned and I think he feels guilty for not realizing she was missing sooner.” Not that he was to blame. I couldn’t imagine many nineteen-year-olds giving their parents a play-by-play of their weekend plans.

Not that I’d know from experience. I was serving my country at nineteen, and the only time I spoke to my parents was when I had down time and a signal strong enough to call from a computer. Not exactly typical.

“Agreed.” At least we agreed on something .

“Is that your gut talking or your degree?” It came out snarky, out of habit. But I really wanted to know which it was.

She barely turned her head when she looked at me. “Both.”

“What’d you notice in the jewelry box?” I asked, remembering she’d spent a lot of time examining one of the small drawers before making a note.

“Wendy had a lot of costume jewelry crammed in the box, but the bottom drawer was empty. I don’t know what it means yet, but it doesn’t fit.”

The idea didn’t hoist a red flag for me like it did for Maxwell. “She could’ve been wearing whatever was in there.”

“Maybe, but every other drawer was crammed full and messy. It doesn’t make sense for one drawer to be empty.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” I didn’t own any jewelry beside my watch and dog tags, but Maxwell probably did.

She always wore the same diamond earrings and a watch but no rings or bracelets, and only occasionally wore a necklace. Which fit her severe work style.

“Was anything else you saw useful?”

“Not really. So far she seems like a typical nineteen-year-old living at home. Because most kids live in the digital world, I won’t know any more until I look through her phone and laptop.”

What she didn’t say, what neither of us was saying, was that from what we’d seen so far, it looked like Wendy went out with the mysterious Mr. R. and never came home.

The question of the hour was, did Wendy choose not to come home or did someone decide for her ?

I hated that we still had more questions than answers.

We couldn’t ignore the possibility Wendy had decided to leave this life behind and run away with Mr. R. If he lavished her with gifts, an assumption I made based on Maxwell’s cell phone theory, then he may have promised her an easy life.

“Do you think she ran away with her mystery guy?”

She thought about it a good minute before answering. “Maybe. But I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

When she didn’t continue, I asked, “Care to elaborate?”

“What would you pack to run away?” she asked instead of answering.

Great, another test .

“Clothes, wallet, phone, laptop-”

She cut me off, “Exactly. Wendy left her phone, makeup case and laptop. And Mr. R giving her a cell phone is a controlling move.”

I was afraid she’d say that. We might not have a lot to go on, but my gut was telling me something had gone wrong and Wendy was in trouble.