Deadly Lies (2 page)

Once a year, police chiefs from across the country got together to discuss the new strategies and techniques their departments employed. This year, Alex had been asked to present his groundbreaking work on a suite of cybercrime tools. Jill glanced up. Alex’s expression was guarded.

“I thought we talked about this already.”

“Did we?” Jill asked, eyes wide, feigning ignorance.

“It’s a political bullshit assignment. I’ve got better ways to spend my time.”

Jill frowned. It was exactly the type of answer she expected. Tactical. Alex seemed maddeningly oblivious to the types of opportunities that came his way. If only he possessed an ounce or two of ambition.

“Come on, Alex. You’re a smart guy. You know there’s more to it than that. Think of the doors it could open for you.”

“For me? Are you sure it’s me we’re talking about here, because if it is, you know where I stand. All I want is to get back into homicide. Are you sure we’re not talking about what
you
want?”

“That’s not fair,” she said, controlling her irritation with effort. “The cybercrimes unit has been waiting for a guy with your talent. Think of all of the good you could do.”

“Great, so I can put a dent in identity theft instead of tracking down murderers. Hell of a trade-off, don’t you think?”

“Forget it,” she said, and waved a dismissive hand.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Jill could feel the weight of his stare as they entered the locker room. She deliberately avoided his gaze. There was no point. At times like this, there was no talking to him. The widening gulf between them felt less like a fissure and more like the great divide.

Alex dialed the combination, then handed her a jacket before pulling on his own.

“Listen, Jill, I’m not that guy. Besides, you’ve got enough ambition for both of us.” His voice was soft, and he shot her his best boyish smile in an attempt to take the sting out of his words. “If it helps, Jackson has been pushing me, too.”

It didn’t help. She brushed past him and left the locker room. Ambitious? Hell yeah, she was ambitious. Spending her high school years dirt-poor and in foster homes was inspiration enough to excel. Alex’s Norman Rockwell upbringing didn’t instill him with the same needs.

Half way to the exit, Alex’s cell phone rang, eliminating the need for further discussion. She pushed open the heavy doors and stepped out into the brisk morning air. Thick, gray clouds choked out the sun, and though it wasn’t raining yet, it soon would be. She could feel it.

Jill stayed two strides ahead, carving a path through the parked cars toward the silver Jeep Liberty. The lights flashed as Alex unlocked the door.

“When?” As he spoke into the phone, the change in his tone was instantaneous, sharp, and suddenly all business. Jill turned. The expression on Alex’s face was serious. “When was she expected home?”

What now? Here it was, a cool fall Sunday morning, and they couldn’t spend an hour alone without a call. She knew what came next. An emergency. An excuse. And she would be finding her own way to the airport while he rushed off.

Shaking her head, she opened the door and climbed inside the Jeep.

“Have you called the police yet?” Alex asked as he settled behind the steering wheel, the cell phone still pressed to his ear. With a quick flick of his wrist, he consulted his watch. “I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.”

Hanging up, he glanced over at Jill. Concern was clearly etched into the lines around his mouth.

“That was Abby Watson. I mean Nelson,” he corrected with a quick shake of his head. “She got married.”

Jill’s lips twitched in recognition. An unpleasant stab of surprise shot through her.

“Abby Watson. Your ex-girlfriend?”

“Her sister is missing.”

Technically Abby was still in the picture when she and Alex first started seeing each other. There weren’t many wives who felt comfortable with an out-of-the-blue call from a long-lost girlfriend.
Fiancée
, Jill amended. And she was definitely not among them.

“And so she called you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and folding her arms across her chest.

Alex lifted a hand off the steering wheel in a shrug. “I’ve known the family a long time. I’ll drop you off at home before I head over to her parents’ place to see what I can find out.”

His hand stalled as he reached out to start the engine, and he paused, as if a new thought had suddenly occurred to him. “I won’t be able to take you to the airport.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

Jill shifted her gaze out the windshield and felt a cold knot of resignation form in her gut. Duty came first for Alex. Always had. But having him rush off to his ex-girlfriend’s rescue was somehow worse. A stab of resentment flared. She pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly.

It didn’t matter. Soon she’d be on a plane headed for California. She could forget all about the argument, the phone call, Abby Watson, and everything else. By the time she landed, this would all seem so very far away.

CHAPTER TWO

A
fter dropping Jill off at the house, Alex broke more than one traffic law on his way to the Watson’s place. Halfway across the Aurora Bridge, he placed a quick call to Jackson, part of the missing child unit, to get permission to talk to Abby’s parents. Hanging up, he glided to a halt beside the curb and stepped off onto the cracked street.

For a moment, he thought about Jill. She’d be away all week on a business trip, and he hadn’t really said good-bye. He stuck a hand in the pocket of his favorite jeans and pulled out a cell phone, but before he had a chance to dial her number, the door swung open, and he found himself looking up into Abby’s stricken face. Alex’s heart skipped a beat.

How many times had he stood in this very spot waiting to see her? Now, here she was. Same petite build, same wavy blond hair, same bright blue eyes. She looked like a young Meg Ryan standing on the wide front porch in faded blue jeans and bare feet. The only thing missing was the playful glint in her eyes.

He pushed aside the conflicting emotions he felt. Too much time had passed. They’d both moved on. They were different people now.

“Hi, Abby,” he said at last. He climbed the stairs leading up to the Craftsman-style house. He slid the cell phone back into his pocket.

“Thanks for coming, Alex,” she said. Her soft voice sounded strained with worry. “Mom and Dad are waiting.”

Alex followed her inside with a growing sense of trepidation. The last time he’d set foot in this house was five years ago, when he’d called off their engagement. Now Abby’s little sister was missing, and he was here to help.

Joyce Watson sat hunched over the kitchen table, staring sightlessly at the cup of coffee in her hand. Her silver-blond hair was scraped back into a ponytail, and she looked up at Alex, red-rimmed eyes brimming with worry. This was not the Joyce Watson he remembered, the woman who met them at the door after school with lemonade and a smile. The grim expression on her face told him all he needed to know about her state of mind.

“Would you like some coffee, Alex?” Tom Watson asked. He leaned against the kitchen counter wearing a white T-shirt and a worn pair of jeans. Tom had aged significantly over the past half-decade. His hairline had retreated to a graying wreath that topped his ears, the steely hue matching the rugged stubble that shadowed his ruddy cheeks.

“No thanks,” he said.

He wanted to hug Joyce. She looked so small and so scared as she sat hunched in her chair. He wished there was some comfort he could offer. But that was no longer his place. Instead, he seated himself across from Joyce and met her watery gaze directly. She didn’t smile. She held his gaze for a moment before looking away. Alex pulled out his notebook and addressed the family.

“Tell me about Natalie. What did she do yesterday?”

Tom cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and started.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, really. She went for a bike ride and did some studying up in her room. Joyce and I left the house around three. We went shopping at University Village and met friends at Piatti’s for dinner. Natalie planned to stay over at a friend’s house. When she didn’t show up at work this morning, they called here.”

Tom paused and rubbed his creased forehead. His anxiety was palpable. “We called her friend. Natalie never made it to their house.
When she didn’t arrive, they assumed her plans had changed. We didn’t know what to do, where to start looking.” Tom glanced at his wife. Joyce continued to stare at her coffee cup, as if an answer might be found in its dark depths.

Alex nodded, jotting a few notes about the timeline and events Tom provided. “What’s her friend’s name?”

“Emily Jenkins,” Joyce looked up as she answered, and her hand fluttered to her bloodless lips.

“Didn’t she think it was odd for Natalie not to call?”

Joyce angled her head to one side as she considered the question.

“Emily’s what you might call a free spirit. She doesn’t have the same rules at home that Natalie does.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but she stopped herself. Alex jotted a few notes, careful to keep his expression neutral. That Natalie typically called, but hadn’t, made an impression. As a detective in the Seattle Police Department, he was privy to details about the most brutal child-abuse cases. Although it was not his area of expertise, the stories seemed to infiltrate the department at every level, making it hard for him to tune them out. Making it impossible for him to not worry about Natalie.

Alex looked up to find all eyes trained on him.

“Where does she work?”

“At the coffee shop a few blocks away.” Tom’s smile was bittersweet. “She’s saving up to buy a new bike.”

Alex nodded. He’d want to follow up with the people she worked with to learn more about Natalie’s habits. Was she reliable? Were there any customers who took a special interest in her?

He could feel Abby’s eyes on him. He glanced up quickly, and forced a reassuring smile.

“What did you do after you called Emily?”

Joyce picked up the thread of the story. Her voice, normally soft and soothing, crackled with emotion as she began.

“We called everyone we could think of—friends, work—but no one had seen her. By the time Abby arrived, we were half out of our heads with worry. We called you.” Alex could see tears clouding her eyes as she looked away.

“Does she have her cell phone with her?”

“We think so. It’s not in her room,” Tom said. “We tried calling her, but she’s not answering. We’ve left a dozen messages.”

Tom’s face had become a mask of stone. His skin had taken on a gray pallor. He watched his wife.

“Does Natalie have a boyfriend?” Alex asked, keeping his voice calm and even. The last thing he wanted to do was add to their worry. Without looking up, he could feel the magnetic pull of Abby’s gaze, and he avoided her stare.

“No,” Joyce responded quickly. “She’s sixteen and doesn’t date.”

The answer was definitive, typical of an overly protective parent. He wondered if it was accurate. Did Natalie have secrets she didn’t want to share? He remembered Abby at sixteen, and he felt pretty sure that there were a few things her parents didn’t know.

“Did you have an argument with Natalie last night? Is there any reason you can think of why she may not have come home?”

“No,” Tom said, shaking his head. “I wish there was.”

“May I see her room?” Alex asked, closing his notebook, his lips set in a grim line. He didn’t like where this was going. The hope that there was a simple explanation for Natalie’s whereabouts was fading fast. Her family was painting the picture of a responsible girl who did as she was told. So either Natalie was in the midst of a major teenaged rebellion or something significant had happened to her. Or maybe someone.

The room was neat, particularly for a high school kid, he thought as he examined it slowly, his eyes taking careful inventory of each small detail. Books crammed the shelves of the narrow bookcase, and more were stacked on the desk around her computer monitor. He scanned the titles. Natalie was an eclectic reader with a wide range of interests ranging from biographies to vampires to classic adventure stories.

“Is there anything missing? Clothes?” Alex asked, and Tom cleared his throat before answering.

“Not that we’ve noticed.” The members of the Watson family stood close together, clustered in the doorway, seeming to draw strength from each other’s nearness.

Alex noted the poster of Lance Armstrong from the Tour de France pinned to the wall above Natalie’s headboard.

“Where does she like to bike?”

“The Burke-Gilman Trail is her favorite for long rides,” Abby answered.

“Is her bike here?”

Both parents looked at each other in astonishment, as if each had assumed the other had already checked.

“I’ll take a look,” Abby offered and turned to descend the stairs.

A few photographs were wedged into the edges of the corkboard above the desk, and he stepped closer to get a better look. One picture caught his eye. Natalie’s pretty smile beamed out from the snapshot. Her arm was wound around another girl’s shoulders. He noted that she was about the same age as Natalie, but that’s where the similarity ended. With a round face, heavy eyeliner circling her brown eyes, and dyed black hair, she had the look of a girl who had never seen the inside of a library. A small tattoo of a butterfly peeked out from beneath the neckline of her shirt. He wondered if her parents had authorized that little addition.

“Who’s that?” Alex gestured toward the picture of the two girls.

“That’s Emily Jenkins,” Joyce answered. “Natalie’s best friend. They’ve known each other since kindergarten.”

“The same girl she was supposed to visit yesterday?”

They nodded, and Alex continued to study the room.

“You mentioned that Natalie spends a lot of time on the computer. What does she do?” he asked with a growing sense of foreboding. As part of the cybercrimes unit, he had investigated his fair share of child-abduction cases, kids who had been lured by online predators to a dark
underworld of sexual fantasy and abuse. Some of them came back to their homes to continue on with their lives, beginning a long journey to overcome their painful experiences. And some did not.