Cut & Run (4 page)

“How is Matt?” Rachel asked.

“They ran some tests, did a CT scan. Doctors think he suffered a concussion. They’re going to keep him overnight for observation and then hopefully we can go home in the morning.”

“What did the doctor think about his head injury and memory loss?” Rachel asked.

“We’re not sure if he was knocked unconscious. Matt is having trouble remembering past and current events. The doctor said it’s typical with his type of injury.”

“Retrograde amnesia?” Rachel asked.

Chris nodded, looking a little surprised that she’d gotten the terminology right. “Yeah, that’s what the doc said. We’ll know more once he sees a specialist. Tomorrow, if we get the all clear from the police, we’ll head back to New Orleans.”

Red cleared his throat. “Do you mind telling Rachel what you told me the other night? How everything happened?”

Chris nodded, rubbed his hands together, and then cracked his knuckles. “Last Wednesday night, my wife and I had plans to meet Matt for dinner at his house. Matt and his family were returning home from soccer practice when he apparently got a flat tire. I had just talked to him a few minutes before this happened. He told me they were heading to the Quarter to drop off one of Erin’s paintings and would be home shortly after that. This was around six thirty. When we got to their house a half hour later, we were surprised that no one was home. After my wife, Melinda, and I unloaded the groceries, I called Matt on his cell phone but it went straight to voice mail. We called his wife Erin, and again, it went straight to voice mail. I began to worry. I could tell they hadn’t made it home from soccer practice because Matt is meticulous about putting away the soccer balls and gear as soon as he gets home. When I went out to the garage and saw nothing was there, I knew something was out of the ordinary. Melinda thought they must have gone to the grocery store or something and suggested that we wait for a little while longer before calling the police. So we waited about a half hour, constantly trying their cell phones. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I had a bad feeling. Melinda offered to stay at the house in case they showed up while I went driving around. While I was driving, I made a few calls.
Being in the bail bond business, I know a lot of cops. I called a buddy of mine that is with the NOPD to see if any accidents had happened. Nothing. They put out a BOLO for Matt’s truck. Not fifteen minutes later, I got a call from my friend that Matt’s truck was found in an abandoned parking lot by the Riverwalk.”

Chris paused and took a long pull of his beer. Rachel noticed that his hands were slightly shaking. “The back of the truck was opened and there was blood on a tire iron.”

Everyone was silent while the waitress put down plates of food for Rachel and Red. Chris stopped his story long enough to give the waitress his to-go order and then continued.

“We searched all over the French Quarter and Riverwalk area, and up and down every side street in the vicinity of where his truck was found. I finally got back to Matt’s house around one in the morning to pick up Melinda. We were both worried sick. Melinda suggested that I spend the night at Matt’s house in case they turned up, so I took her home and then went back. The next day, I called you guys.” Chris finished his beer and gave Rachel a little smile. “Your reputation precedes you. One of the cops suggested Florida Omni Search after hearing about your involvement in the missing-firefighter case in Florida.”

Rachel smiled back. Chris was doing a good job of laying out the facts of the case. However, she still had a few questions for him. “I’m sure the police have gone over this with you several times, but I have to ask. Do you know of anyone who wanted to harm Matt or his family?”

Chris considered the question before shaking his head. “No, I don’t. In our business, we deal with all kinds. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt Matt. He is the good guy in our operation. I always tell him that he’s too easy on people. If anyone would hold a grudge against someone in our family, it would be against me. Not Matt or Erin, and definitely not the kids.”

“Has Matt said anything to you about his ordeal?” Rachel asked.

“He doesn’t remember anything. Matt’s last memory is getting a haircut and seeing his tax attorney. That was two months ago.” Chris furrowed his brow and turned up his big palms in a gesture of hopelessness. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Rachel dug a business card out of her purse and handed it to Chris. “We’re here to help you. Our plan is to stay in Baton Rouge tonight. Tomorrow morning we’ll take a look at the truck stop where Matt was found. Afterward, we could go to New Orleans and reconstruct Matt’s last movements and go from there.”

The waitress brought Chris’s takeout bag and he paid the check. “We’ll probably head back to New Orleans tomorrow as well if Matt gets the all clear to go home. I’ll call you when we get settled.” They said their good-byes as Chris got up to leave.

“What do you think?” Red asked once Chris was gone.

“I really don’t know what to make of this one,” Rachel said. “A whole family disappears without a trace and then the husband shows up an hour away from where they vanished? Where’s his wife and kids?” She took a couple of bites of food and then pushed her plate away. “I’d like to talk to the trucker who found Matt. See what his take is on this.”

“I’ll call him and see when he can meet with us.”

“That would be great.” Rachel grabbed the check when the waitress dropped it off at the table and put down her credit card. “I have an idea. Remember my friend, Michelle Couch?”

“Yeah. Did she ever forgive you for burning her beach house down?” Red gave a chuckle.

“I didn’t burn the house down, you know that.”

“Just giving you a hard time.”

Recently, Rachel had gone to northern Florida to investigate the case of a missing firefighter. Michelle, who lived close by, had been kind enough to let Rachel stay in a beach house rental she owned. A serial arsonist had set fire to the beach house while Rachel was there. She’d barely escaped with her life, and Michelle’s house had been totaled in the fire. Fortunately, Michelle’s excellent
insurance had reimbursed her fully and she was in the process of rebuilding.

“Before I left Miami, I called Michelle, and she said she’s in New Orleans this week attending a medical conference. She has some experience in working with amnesia cases. It would be great if we could have her talk to Matt.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Red agreed. “I’m going to step outside and call Keith while you settle the tab.”

Rachel waited while the waitress took care of her bill. She looked around the restaurant, remembering the good times she’d had while attending Florida State—this LSU crowd had a similar feel. She’d met Michelle in college in a psychology class, and they’d been fast friends ever since. Michelle had been there for her when Mallory went missing and had repeatedly asked if she could help on any cases she had. Now was a good time to take her up on the offer. Rachel signed the receipt once the waitress brought it to the table, and headed outside to find Red. He was just getting off the call.

“We’re in luck. The truck driver is on his way back through the area. He can meet us in an hour.”

Rachel checked her watch. “This late?”

“It may be our only chance to talk to him. You know truckers, they don’t work a regular nine-to-five.”

“That’s fine. I’d like to stop at the hotel and freshen up before we go.”

“Let’s get cracking then. I can’t wait to get your impression of what happened through Keith’s eyes.”

T
hey were staying at the historic Hilton Capitol Center hotel, which overlooked the wide expanse of the Mississippi River. As soon as Rachel entered the hotel’s lobby, she heard her name being called. She turned to see a tall blond woman walking in long strides across the lobby to meet her. The woman was wearing a sensible dark pantsuit with pumps, her short hair pulled into a tight nubby ponytail.

“Agent Krapek. What a surprise,” Rachel greeted her.

Rachel had met FBI Special Agent Cyndy Krapek when they’d worked another case together in the Bahamas, one that involved the missing daughter of Florida’s governor, John Knowles. After the teenager had disappeared during spring break, Knowles had called Florida Omni Search for help. That was how Rachel had ended up working in tandem with Krapek, who was part of the FBI’s Crimes Against Children (CAC) Unit, along with Agent Lee Phipps and Agent Drake Reynolds.

“The NOPD called us for assistance on this one. I figured we would run into you sooner or later,” Krapek said. Agent Krapek was taller than Rachel by about three inches and was built like a fine-tuned athlete. She was intimidating in more ways than one.

“Anything new on your end?” Rachel asked.

“No, we’re still tracking down and interviewing witnesses from the truck stop. We’ve set up an on-site command post here at the hotel.” Krapek looked around the lobby. “I’m supposed to be meeting Phipps here. We’re heading over to the police station for a briefing.”

“Is Agent Reynolds working this one as well?”

Rachel had gotten close to Special Agent Drake Reynolds when they’d worked the Knowles case, but she hadn’t talked with him since she’d been back from Mexico.

“No, he’s on personal leave. His mom isn’t doing well.” Krapek looked around the lobby again, seemingly distracted. “Her cancer is back and she’s doing some heavy-duty chemo treatments. So it’s just Phipps and me on this one.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. Well, please give Drake my best.” Rachel shook Krapek’s hand. “You have my number if you need our help.”

Rachel headed for the elevator and left Krapek to wait for Phipps in the lobby. She liked working on cases in tandem with the FBI, but she was also glad she wasn’t held to the strict rules and regulations that they had to follow. Sometimes she had to do some unorthodox things when it came to locating a missing person.

She dragged her suitcase into the hotel room and threw it on the bed. She had about fifteen minutes to change clothes and freshen up before meeting Red back in the lobby. Rachel changed into a pair of dark jeans and a soft blue polo shirt, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and brushed her shoulder-length auburn hair. She hated the way the humidity played havoc and made it frizzy. No wonder Krapek always wore hers in a ponytail.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Rachel met Red in the lobby. He was sitting on a leather couch talking with an attractive lady of a certain age. Rachel almost hated to interrupt him. Despite his recent heart attack, Red still looked good, and she knew he wanted a companion. He was in his early fifties, but his stocky
frame was muscular and fit from working out and eating “rabbit food,” as he called it.

“Hi, Red. Are you ready to go?” Rachel called out from behind him.

“Sure,” he answered. He introduced Rachel to the lady he was speaking with. She was dressed in business casual wear, with tailored khaki pants and a white button blouse. Rachel thought the lady to be in her late forties or early fifties. Red introduced her as June Hollis and said she was a schoolteacher visiting relatives in the area.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” June said. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like Julia Roberts?”

Rachel laughed. “Yes, all the time. I think it’s the hair.”

“And the smile,” June said as she patted Red on the leg. “See you later?” she asked him.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at Red as he tossed her the car keys.

“I’ll meet you outside in just a minute.” Red gave Rachel a coy smile.

Rachel figured he was lining up a late date with the schoolteacher and left to go bring the car around. When Red got inside the car, she couldn’t resist teasing him just a little.

“I was only gone fifteen minutes and you already have a date with a woman you met in the lobby. That has to be a record. You lead a more exciting love life than I do.”

Red cocked an eyebrow and replied, “Speaking of love life, how’s Mike doing?”

Mike Mancini was a former DEA agent turned private consultant whom Rachel had met during an investigation. They’d shared perhaps a few more intimacies than average professional acquaintances, but Rachel wasn’t ready to define their relationship just yet.

“He landed a big gig with the Jacksonville police department, working with their narcotics division. I talked to him briefly after he left Mexico.”

Mike had come with Rachel to Cozumel when she first learned about the lead on her missing daughter, both for support and for some quiet time together. But he’d eventually had to return to work. They tried to talk on the phone whenever they could, but with their busy schedules, it was hard to do sometimes.

Thoughts of Mike left Rachel’s head a minute later, as Red pulled into a parking spot at the truck stop. Inside, she and Red got a booth and waited for Keith. The restaurant was full of truckers stopping to get a quick bite to eat and gas up their rigs before hitting the road. The tables were sticky, the coffee scalding hot, and the smell of bacon wafted through the air.

“Here he comes now.” Red pointed out the window to a purple eighteen-wheeler pulling into the parking lot. Rachel watched as Keith expertly parked his rig, jumped out, and waltzed into the restaurant. He was wearing tight Levis, a plaid button-down shirt, and cowboy boots. He removed his ball cap as he walked to their table.

Red made the introductions as Keith sat down.

Rachel immediately sized him up. He looked to be around midforties, with sandy blond hair and a kind face.

“Thanks for meeting with us. Tell me about the night you met Matt O’Malley,” Rachel said. She took her notepad out of her purse.

Keith cleared his throat before he began. “I have a private rig and run a route from Katy, Texas, to Jackson, Mississippi, a couple times a week. Last Thursday night, I was headed back to Jackson when I stopped here for a bite to eat around eight thirty in the evening. I was checking my rig when this guy walked up and asked me for money. It’s not unusual, especially in this town, for homeless people to hang around truck stops looking for rides or something to eat. Right off, though, something made me want to help this guy. He wasn’t just your usual vagrant, he seemed more like a regular guy who’d had a rough night or something.”