Among the Missing (12 page)

"God. And Faye saw this?"

"She saw what was left."

"God. Poor Faye. Is she all right?"

"She took it pretty hard at first. But she seemed quite a lot better by the time I dropped her off."

"Must've been awful."

"It wasn't very pleasant. Faye didn't even want me to come in. She said she wanted to take a sleeping pill and forget the whole thing."

Just like Faye, Ina thought.

"If she's still asleep," Bass said, "don't bother waking her up. But maybe you could take a look for me. The ringing might've woken her. But if it didn't, just wait till she wakes up and tell her I called. I only called to make sure she's okay."

"She isn't here, Bass." Ina wiggled. The rub of the sheet felt good against her bare skin, like a caress.

For a few seconds, Bass said nothing.

Then, sounding confused, he said, "What do you mean, she isn't there?"

"She isn't in her bedroom. She isn't in the house."

"Where is she?"

"I don't have any idea. I figured she was with you."

"No. I dropped her off at the house a long time ago. Around one forty-five?"

"Well, hang on a second. Let me check around. I just woke up from a nap. Maybe she came in while I was asleep."

"Okay, would you?"

"Sure."

"And if she's not there, would you check to see if her car's gone?"

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Ina set down the phone on her pillow and climbed out of bed. Not bothering to put on any clothes, she hurried down the hallway to the kitchen. The linoleum floor felt cool under her feet, and a little sticky in places. At the far end of the eating area, a door led into the garage. She opened it. Faye's Volvo was gone.

Though certain that nobody'd come into the house while she'd been asleep, she did a quick search before returning to her bedroom. She flopped onto the bed and picked up the phone. "Bass?"

"Yeah."

"Faye's not here. Neither is her car."

Bass was silent for a while. Then he said, "Maybe she went to the store or something."

"No, I don't think so."

"Why's that?"

Squirming against the sheet, Ina asked, "Why would she take her suitcases to the store?"

"Her suitcases are gone?"

"That's right. And so are a bunch of her clothes. There's a lot of stuff missing from her closet. There're empty hangers, missing shoes."

"My God. Where'd she go?"

Ina grinned. "I have no idea. I thought she was with you, Bass."

"No. Huh-uh. I wonder . . . Do you think she might've gone to see her parents?"

"That's possible," Ina said. "She's done it before."

"Maybe that's it," Bass muttered. "But you'd think she would've told me . . . or you . . . somebody."

"You'd think so. But, you know, Faye didn't tell anyone last time she took off, either."

"No, she didn't."

Thinking about the last time Faye had pulled a disappearing act made Ina feel good. The long wait with Bass, the quiet talking, the sharing. That vigil was the closest she'd ever been to him. If only Faye had piled into a bridge abutment or taken a flying leap off the Golden Gate Bridge or simply decided to stay away. . . .

"Burlingame's a good six hour drive," Bass said. "That's if you don't stop to eat or anything."

"How'll we know?" Ina asked.

"Know what?"

"Whether that's where she went?"

"I guess we won't. Not for . . . Let's see, I dropped her off at about a quarter till two. Give her about an hour to pack and get ready, she probably didn't leave till two-thirty or three. It's almost five now." Ina heard a quick mumble of numbers as Bass counted. "She shouldn't get to her folks' place much before nine o'clock."

"That's a long time to wait."

"Yeah. It sure is."

"Want to do your waiting over here?" Ina asked. "That way, you can be right here in case she shows up or calls. And we can give each other some moral support."

"Thanks, but I'd better stay. She might call here."

"Well . . . if you think that'd be better." Ina tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"At nine," Bass said, "I'll give her folks a call. Will you be home?"

"Sure."

"Then I'll give you a ring as soon as I've talked to them, and let you know."

"What if Faye's not there?"

Sounding a little lost, Bass asked, "Where else would she go?"

Ina said nothing. She let the silence speak for her.

"She wouldn't go there," Bass said. "She's finished with him."

"I hope so." Ina made herself sound doubtful. "It's just that, if she was so upset and everything . . . maybe she needed a shoulder to cry on."

"She could've cried on mine. Besides, she couldn't go over there even if she wanted to. What would they do about the asshole's wife, put her in the guest room?"

"It was just a thought. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"I guess they could've gone to a motel," Bass muttered. Then he said firmly, "No, she's through with him. She promised me."

"I'm sure she is," Ina told him in a voice heavy with doubt.

"I'll call you after I've talked to her parents."

"Fine. See you later."

"Yeah. So long."

Ina heard him hang up. She reached over to the nightstand and hung up the phone.

And smiled, pleased with the job she'd done.

She wished she'd been able to lure him over. Somehow, though, she felt certain that she would see him before the night was done.

This time, maybe they would get to know each other a lot better than before.

And this time, maybe Faye wouldn't come back.

An awful thing to wish. She liked Faye. But she liked Bass more.

She headed down the hallway.

First, she would take a nice long shower and wash her hair. Then she would dress herself in something special for Bass.

Chapter Nineteen

Where, Oh Where Can She Be?

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?" Pac asked, hoping Rusty would let her leave.

"Nothing that can't wait. Go on home and celebrate your anniversary."

"We'll see you and Millie tomorrow morning at our place, right?"

"Barring unforeseen misfortunes . . ."

"Come over around eleven. We'll start with Bloody Marys."

"Get out of here."

"Adios, Pop."

Outside, the heat was bad. As Pac walked toward the station's parking lot, the late afternoon sun felt burning against her face and the backs of her hands. It made an oven of her uniform blouse. A drop trickled, sliding between her breasts. Another drop glided down her side. Her bra stopped both, absorbing them.

At her car, she stood in the V of the open door and rolled down the window before climbing in.

How great it would be to get home, get out of these hot sweaty clothes, take a cool bath, then have a vodka tonic so loaded with ice that the glass would fog up and drip onto her as she drank. They'd have a couple of hours before leaving for the Fireside. She could have a drink or two on the porch with Harney and still have time to get dressed and take off for the restaurant.

Or maybe we could skip the drinks, she thought, and spend an hour in the sack.

Smiling, she pulled out of the parking lot.

But she suddenly remembered the last time they'd been at the Fireside. They'd gone with Bass and Faye to celebrate Faye's birthday.

What a shock for poor Faye, walking into a body that way.

She'd seemed to take it fairly well, though. Shocked, terribly upset, but at least the experience hadn't unhinged her.

Maybe I oughta drop by and see her.

Pac sighed.

She really wanted to get home.

But it's not every day one of your best friends stumbles onto a headless stiff. Won't kill me to stop in for a couple of minutes.

When Pac arrived at the house where Faye lived, she saw Ina's car in the driveway. She swung in behind it, shut off her engine, and climbed out. On her way to the front door, she tried to remember whether the house had air conditioning.

She sure hoped so.

She knocked on the door. Before she could knock again, it swung open.

Ina Jones gazed out at her, looking surprised at first, then alarmed. "Pac! What's . . . ?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said. "I just thought I'd drop by and see how Faye's doing."

"You'd better come in."

"Is something the matter?" Pac asked, stepping inside. The house was cool. She shut the door and followed Ina into the living room.

Ina faced Pac, then lowered her eyes. She lifted a hanging end of her robe belt and studied it. "Faye isn't here," she said.

"Did she go off with Bass?"

"No. I talked to him on the phone a while ago. He doesn't know where she is. He thought she'd be here." Shaking her head, Ina sank onto the couch.

"Do you have any idea where she might've gone?" Pac asked.

"I don't know. She took her suitcases and some clothes. We think she might've driven home -- to her parents' house."

"They're in the Bay Area."

Ina nodded. "Burlingame, I guess. Bass said he'll phone them tonight after nine and see if she's gotten there yet."

"Her car isn't here?"

"No."

"A green Volvo, right?"

Ina nodded.

"Do you know the year?"

"Not really."

"I think it's a ninety-four."

"Maybe," Ina said. "I don't know."

"Would you know the license plate number?"

"I don't have a clue."

"What time do you think she left here?"

"Well, I got home from work a little after three. She was gone by then. Bass said he dropped her off her at a quarter till two."

"Okay if I use your phone?" Pac asked.

"Yeah, sure."

Pac placed a call to the station. Deputy Lincoln answered and put her through to Rusty.

"It's Pac," she said. "I'm over at Ina Jones's house, where Faye lives. She's gone. Faye's gone," Pac quickly explained the details she'd learned from Ina. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I like the theory that she's on her way to Burlingame. A girl sees a murdered body, it can knock the props out from under her. Nothing like Mom and Dad to put the props back where they belong."

"If that's the case, why didn't she tell somebody where she was going?"

"Could be she didn't think anyone would miss her. Not this soon, anyway. Or maybe she wanted people to worry."

"People like Bass?" Pac asked.

"Happens all the time. A gal feels neglected so she pulls a disappearing act. Either to get attention or revenge."

Pac nodded. "Might be something like that," she said. "On the other hand, maybe someone took her. Maybe the killer took her."

"It's possible," Rusty said. "But the fact that her suitcases are gone . . ."

"He could've followed her home from the station. Or maybe he recognized her this morning and already knew where she lives."

"If he knew Faye, she must've known him, too. She probably would've mentioned the fact."

"Most likely," Pac said.

"Gives us a few interesting possibilities, doesn't it?" Pac could easily imagine Rusty nodding, his eyes narrow with thought, his teeth clamping a cigar.

"One," Pac suggested, "is that she might know the guy but didn't get a good look at him this morning."

"Or she didn't recognize him," Rusty said, "because he looked different. Maybe he'd changed his appearance, somehow."

"Or," Pac added, "she did recognize him but chose not to tell us."

"Can of worms," Rusty said.

"Pandora's Box," said Pac.

She heard him laugh. "Don't talk dirty," he said.

"Hey."

"Sorry," Rusty said. Then, "If Faye did recognize him, why would she keep it from us?"

"To protect him?" Pac suggested.

"Or to extort him."

"In either case," Pac said, "she'd need to get in touch with him."

"Which might explain her disappearing act."

"It might," Pac agreed. "But I can't see her taking suitcases along for the ride."

"To hold the money?"

"They're apparently full of clothes and shoes."

"I just hope she is on her way to Burlingame. If she isn't, I'd have to say there's a good chance you're right about the killer putting the snatch on her. He could've forced her to pack her bags to make it appear that she went off on her own."

"If that's what went down . . ." Pac couldn't force herself to finish the sentence.

"I'll get her car description onto the air," Rusty told her. "You said Bass is going to phone Faye's parents at nine tonight?"

"Right. And then he'll call Ina."

"Let me know what he finds out."

"Will do."

"Now go on home, Pac. You don't want to miss your big night on the town."

"Yeah. I'll take off right now."

"Have a good one, honey."

"You, too, Russ." She hung up.

Ina, shaking her head, muttered, "Good God. You think the killer kidnapped her?"

"She'd only have to say 'That's the man' in front of a jury, and it'd just about be over for him."

"But Bass could say the same thing. Bass saw him, too, didn't he?"

Pac nodded.

"So he'll want to . . . get rid of Bass too, won't he?" Her eyes pleaded with Pac, cried out for a denial of her logic.

"Maybe we should get in touch with him," Pac said.

Ina glared at her as if betrayed, lurched past her and picked up the phone. She tapped in a number, then listened for nearly a full minute before lowering the phone. "He doesn't answer," she said. Her voice held disbelief. She shook her head slowly, frowning. "He said he'd stay home." Tears began to shine in her eyes. "Oh, my God!"

"Maybe he just stepped out for a minute."

"No!"

"Take it easy, Ina. He might've just gone for dinner or something. There's no reason to think anything's happened to him."

"I'm going over there."

Chapter Twenty

Illegal Entry

Merton rang the doorbell of the house at 432 Malfi, and waited. He rang it again, again. Then he knocked hard with his fist. It didn't surprise him that nobody answered the door. He'd expected the house to be empty, counted on it. But he had to be certain.