Page 10 of She Didn’t See It Coming

Derek Gardner is working from home this morning.

He and his wife live in Loudonville, an Albany neighborhood of people with high incomes.

The Gardners’ house itself is large, modern, and striking.

He works for himself—he is not someone who likes to work for someone else.

He is a cybersecurity expert and owns a small, profitable company with offices downtown on Bryant Street, with half a dozen employees.

But he often works from his office at home because he finds it pleasant.

His wife, Alice, after earning her PhD in chemistry from Princeton, got a part-time job at the University at Albany as a researcher in the Chemistry Department.

Her specialty is computational chemistry.

Alice needs the mental stimulation, but she doesn’t want the responsibilities of a full-time job, doesn’t have the patience for the people and the politics.

She mostly keeps her own hours but puts in two or three days per week.

She went to work early this morning, so he’s home alone when he hears the doorbell chime. He’s not expecting anyone.

He answers the door to a woman he has never seen before. She’s quite lovely—of medium height, with a trim build; short, deep brown hair; and rather striking dark eyes.

“Are you Derek Gardner?” she asks.

“Yes. And you are?” he asks curiously.

She holds up a badge for him. “Detective Jayne Salter, Albany Police.”

He looks at the badge and then back at her. “I’ve never met a detective before,” he says. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you.” She steps past him and looks around.

His home is impressive—lots of glass and open space. It cost a small fortune. He watches her forming an opinion of him.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Gardner?”

“I’m in cybersecurity,” he says.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea why you’re here.”

“Can we sit down?” she asks.

“Of course.” He leads her into the living room, with its deep designer sofas. They sit.

She says, “I’m investigating the disappearance of a woman, Bryden Frost.”

He feels his eyebrows rise. “She’s—disappeared?”

“Yes. Sometime yesterday, from her home. Have you not seen the news?”

He shakes his head, frowning. “No, I’ve been busy with work.”

“We’re concerned about her well-being. We’re talking to people who know her,” the detective says.

“Well, I hardly know her,” Derek says. “I met her, briefly, a few weeks ago, when she ran into the back of my Tesla with her Volvo.”

“But you exchanged information, you know where she lives.”

“Well, yes, that’s standard procedure, isn’t it, when there’s a minor car accident? I wanted her to pay for the damage. Which she did, in cash.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“It was all very amicable—it was clearly her fault. I called her when I got the estimate, we agreed not to go through insurance, she said cash would be fine. I called her again when the work was done and I had the bill, and we met after that, at a coffee shop near where the accident occurred. I showed her the bill, she gave me the cash—twenty-seven hundred dollars, I think—the actual amount was a bit over that, but I rounded down—and that was it. I never contacted her or saw her or heard from her again.”

“You were never at her home?”

“No, as I just said.”

“And what’s the name of the coffee shop you met in?”

“It’s called the Daily Grind, at the corner of Chandler and Dover.”

“Do you remember the day and time you met?”

He’s annoyed at her now. “No, I don’t. What does it matter?”

“I’m just making inquiries, Mr. Gardner. Do you prefer not to answer the question?”

His annoyance deepens. She’s probably a good detective, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like her. He no longer finds her attractive.

“Let me look at my diary,” he says smoothly, not letting his feelings show.

He walks farther into the house to his office and grabs his leather diary off his desk.

He pages back to several weeks ago. He finds the appointment for the work on the car, and there it is, the note in his diary the next day to meet Bryden Frost at the Daily Grind at 4:30 p.m., January 26.

He takes the diary back to the living room and shows it to the detective.

“And you never saw her or spoke to her again after that time?” the detective asks again.

“That’s right, as I just told you.”

“All right, that’s it then.” She rises from the sofa, and he shows her to the door.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Gardner.”

He says, “I hope you find her.” He watches her as she gets into her car and reverses out of his driveway.

···

Jayne drives away from Derek Gardner’s house. She found him rather full of himself. But she has no reason to believe he wasn’t telling her the truth.

She returns to the police station. No one has come forward with any solid information, even after the statement and appeal she’d made earlier that morning.

There have been some reports of a woman matching Bryden’s description that have turned out to be otherwise explained.

They are still looking into the backgrounds of all the people living or working in the condo building—particularly to see if there’s anyone who has a criminal record. She should have a full report soon.

She gets a call from the plainclothes officer watching Henry Kemp. “Yes?” Jayne says.

“The prick hasn’t gone anywhere except to Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“Stay with him for now,” Jayne says.

Detective Kilgour taps on her door. He’s back from Henry Kemp’s car dealership, where he interviewed Kemp and his employees.

He shakes his head. “Kemp left the dealership twice yesterday. Once was for about an hour to grab lunch at a nearby restaurant, and at least two servers vouch for his being there for almost an hour. Another time, in the afternoon, he went on a test drive with a customer. I’ve spoken to her and that checks out too.

The rest of the day he was at the dealership. CCTV confirms it. He’s not our guy.”

“Okay,” Jayne says, deflated. “I’d better call off the surveillance then.”

Another officer taps on the door. “I went to Bryden’s firm, Rolf and Weiner,” he says.

“Anything interesting?” Jayne asks.

“They do accounting for a lot of midsize to large businesses in Albany and the environs. Nothing sketchy at all, as far as I can tell. She’s respected and well liked at the firm.

When I asked if it was possible she was involved in anything shady, they looked at me as if I was nuts.

They all seem very worried about her, and everyone agreed that she would never just walk away from her life. ”

Jayne nods. “No. It doesn’t seem likely, does it—we see no signs of any kind of preparation for that. She hasn’t been hiving off money anywhere to make a leap. Not that we can find anyway.”

“Every penny of her paychecks is accounted for,” Kilgour agrees.

“Thanks, Martin,” Jayne says, and the officer departs.

“If it was some kind of accident or misadventure,” she says to Kilgour, “we should have found her by now—we’ve searched that building inside and out, and the surrounding area too.

” Jayne looks her colleague in the eye. “More likely it’s foul play: either some stranger—someone who knocked on her door—or someone she knew.

” She adds, “And they either took her out through the underground parking garage, or she’s still inside the building—possibly in one of the units.

” Detective Kilgour nods. “Let’s talk to the people who were closest to her,” Jayne says.

“I’m not so sure about the husband. He told me he went out for a couple of hours yesterday, from noon till two, alone—says he picked up lunch and went to Washington Park.

That’s a long lunch.” She pauses, then continues.

“But before we bring him in, I want to talk to the sister on her own, and the parents too—they’re on their way in from Florida.

And I want to speak to her best friend, Paige Mason.

Sam mentioned her. We need all the background on the missing woman we can get, before we question the husband. ”