Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (3 page)

Jackson introduced himself. “The young woman who lives across from you, Danette Blake, is a friend of the family and she’s been missing for five hours. Have you seen her?”

“Not since early this morning. What do you mean by missing?”

“She didn’t show up when she was supposed to.”

“She could be with her boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?”

“I think I heard her call him Chad. I don’t know his last name.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s tall and has dark hair. He looks Indian.”

“What kind of car does he drive?”

“I’ve never seen him in a car. I think he rides a bike.” She made a face. “He probably lost his license.”

“Do you know where I might find him?”

“I don’t know anything about him. I barely know Danette. She just moved here a month ago.”

“Thanks.”

Jackson headed across the asphalt. He used a credit card to open the cheap lock and again shook his head at people’s failure to protect themselves with decent locks.

The scent of baby powder, wet diapers, and mashed bananas permeated the air and triggered a series of flashbacks. Katie as a baby in her little swing, bouncing to the music. Katie throwing mashed carrots at his face and laughing with delight. Jackson smiled. His daughter had grown up to be a lovely young woman of fourteen, who had come to share his passion for restoring and modifying vehicles. They were currently building a three-wheeled motorcycle together and were almost finished. He was a lucky man.

Jackson tucked away his memories and looked around. The place was messy with toys and clothes scattered around, but it was clean under the surface. Most important, there was no sign of upheaval or struggle, nothing to indicate Danette had left against her will. He headed for her bathroom to see if her stuff was still there. A woman might leave town with just the clothes on her back, but she wouldn’t willingly leave behind her make-up and moisturizer.

The countertop was almost bare, and Jackson couldn’t find any make-up in the drawers. He looked in the shower. Shampoo, conditioner, and razor were still in the white metal basket. Inconclusive, he decided. It was possible Danette simply didn’t wear cosmetics. He headed into her bedroom and opened a small closet. It held plenty of clothing, much of it in bright shades of red, orange, and pink. The dresser was also full. If Danette had gone on the run, she had packed lightly.

A search of her living room revealed little. She had course catalogues for Lane Community College and the University of Oregon, magazines about baby care, a makeshift bookshelf full of sci-fi paperbacks, and a few unopened bills that had been forwarded to the new address. Danette hadn’t lived here long enough to accumulate any real clutter. Jackson tried, and failed, to find an address book with contact information. He headed into the kitchen and spotted an open laptop on the table. The temptation to turn it on and snoop through her e-mails was overwhelming.

Yet he refrained. Danette had not even been gone long enough to justify filing a missing persons report. He was only here because of Kera. If anyone else had asked the department to investigate this situation, they would have gotten a quick word of sympathy and a suggestion to come back later if she was still missing. He had no business violating Danette’s personal space. Jackson abruptly left the house, locking it from the inside and pulling the door closed.

“I’ve done every thing I can for now.” Jackson stood in Kera’s big bright living room, feeling guilty. She looked so troubled. “Patrol units are on the lookout for Danette. Security guards at both malls are looking for her. I checked her apartment and I talked to her shrink. I’m sorry.” He pulled Kera into his arms and held her for a moment. Micah was sleeping in his playpen.

“What now?” Kera pressed her lips together and fought back tears.

“In the morning, you go into the department and file a missing persons report.”

“Why wait?”

“Unofficially, adults aren’t considered missing until they’ve been gone at least twenty-four hours.”

Kera looked alarmed. “So much could happen between now and then. What if Danette’s been kidnapped or assaulted?”

“This may not be reassuring, but I’ve already done more than anyone else will do. Except put her into the national database.”

Kera tried to smile. “Thanks, Jackson. I’m glad to know you.”

“I have to get into the department and file some paperwork on another case. Is there someone you can call to keep you company?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ve got Micah to keep me occupied.”

Jackson kissed her and left while she was still upbeat. He feared Kera still had a long way to go in dealing with this situation. Danette could turn out to be one of those never-ending cases in which a young woman simply vanishes and her family is left to wonder:
Did she run away? Is she dead and buried somewhere?
The fact that Danette’s car was gone made Jackson lean toward runaway.

Kera had the strength to survive this though; she’d been tested many times. Jackson had to unclench his fists to grab the wheel. Some people’s lives seemed so blessed, while others took hit after hit. He knew God was out there somewhere, but he didn’t seem all that involved in personal lives. Jackson accepted that. He’d taken his share of hits too.

Chapter 3

D.J. wished he’d remembered to put his CD collection back in the van. It was a long drive out to his client’s house. He’d just passed through Veneta and still had five miles to go. He thought the girl might enjoy some music too. She had seemed terrorized when he’d grabbed her this morning. Even with the chloroform, she had managed to nail him in the ribs with an elbow before she went out. He hadn’t expected it. This was only his second pickup of a live person, and he thought it would be easy. He’d snatched a few pets for people in the middle of a nasty divorce, and once he’d picked up the corpse of an old man who’d died while banging his male lover and moved the geezer to save the family embarrassment. His one live-person snatch had been a high-on-heroin, fifteen-year-old girl whom he’d taken home to her parents. This was a new experience, and in his opinion, a pretty fucked-up situation.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, which was aimed down at the floor in the back of the van. The girl was almost completely conscious now and looked terrified. He was surprised. He’d expected the chloroform to last longer.

He reached for his radio and found a country/rock station. D.J. sang along for a while, feeling pleased with himself for his morning’s work. Even with the long drive out and back, per hour it was a sweet deal. Since he’d handled it so well, maybe his client would give him more contracts like it. It was so much better than crawling under houses to fetch dead animals.

He passed the five-mile marker and watched for the private driveway on the left. He’d only been here once before and the road was easy to miss. He slowed, turned between the two poplar trees, and stopped in front of the plain black gate with the camera mounted high in the center. After a moment, the gate opened and he entered the property.

Danette forced herself to breathe through her nose in long counts of ten. The bandanna not only made it hard to take in air, it cut into the corners of her mouth and made her eyes water, wetting the cloth over her eyes. Her head ached from the after-effect of whatever he’d used to knock her out.

She lay on her side, her hands bound in front by handcuffs and her ankles bound by thin nylon rope. She pulled her knees up next to her chin and tried to work the knots on her ankles. The handcuffs gave her just enough flex to maneuver. If he had used rope on her wrists instead…

Still, she made little progress and her fingers soon ached. Danette rested for a moment and tried not to think about what was waiting for her.

The steady hum of tires told her they were traveling along a well-maintained road. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, so it was impossible to guess how long she’d been in the van. It felt like hours.
What do they want with me?
This wasn’t about money, because she and her mother didn’t have any, which meant it had to be about sex.
Oh, dear God
. Danette prayed she wouldn’t be raped.

Why me? Is God punishing me for not loving my baby? For wanting to give Micah away?

The hum of the tires changed pitch, and she realized the van was slowing. Her heart pounded as she frantically pulled at the nylon around her ankles, hindered by her inability to see what she was doing. She felt the van make a sharp left, then stop. What was next? Was she strong enough to take it? Her fingers found a loop and something gave. She pulled on the piece of rope that had a bit of slack. The van rolled forward again.

Instinctively, D.J. glanced back at the girl. Everything was as it should be. She was still bound, gagged, and blindfolded.
Was she breathing?
Shit. He felt a stir of adrenaline as he stopped the van and stared at the girl’s chest. She was breathing. He was just being paranoid. He let off the brake and rolled forward. It would all turn out okay. He would carry her into the house and his client would hand him a stack of cash. Then he would go back to his little Dirty Jobs business, which had earned him the nickname D.J., a much more manly name than what his mother had called him. The three thousand would get him caught up on the trailer park rent and let him live a little on the wild side for a month or so. It was a no-risk deal he’d been promised.

After a quarter mile, the trees opened into a clearing and the big custom home came into view. Floor-to-ceiling windows in the foyer caught the mid-morning sun. He pulled up in front of the attached three-car garage and waited. In a moment, the overhead door closest to the house opened and he pulled in. Was he supposed to wait or would his client come into the garage? This was new to him.

He decided the situation called for confidence. He climbed out of the van, scooted around to the side door, and opened it. The girl was on her knees, waiting. She lunged forward, head butting him in the chest. The blow knocked him back against the silver Mercedes. The girl fell forward and ended up straddling the opening, with her face against the concrete floor and her bound feet sticking up into the van.

She hadn’t thought that through very well. He squatted, lifted her up on his shoulder, and carried her toward the house.

Chapter 4

Kera couldn’t stop thinking about Danette. As she paced the house, she could feel her back muscles tense and her pulse accelerate. She knew this level of anxiety was unhealthy and unproductive, so she forced herself to sit down and take deep breaths. Little Micah needed her to be calm and happy. He was sleeping now, but when he woke, he would pick up on her mood.

Kera moved to her computer in the office at the back of the house. She glanced at her wonderful view and remembered to thank the universe for being good to her. At least financially anyway. She lived in a wonderful home and rarely worried about money. On a global scale she was very fortunate. Before her son had been born, she’d spent a few years in Uganda working in a Red Cross medical center. The experience had given her a worldview she never let herself forget.

Her computer was still on from that morning, so she opened her Facebook page. She’d created the page at the urging of one of her co-workers, feeling a little silly about it at the time, then let it sit for a month or so. Recently, she’d been using the site, making friends, and communicating with people, including Danette. Kera hoped Danette’s page might give her a clue.

She typed Danette’s name into the search bar and when her page came up, the first thing Kera checked was her last status update. At 10:15 the night before, Danette had posted:
This baby won’t go to sleep and it’s making me crazy.
The previous post at 2:06 yesterday afternoon said:
Micah is napping and I get to be a person for a few minutes!!!

Kera scrolled down through a few more posts and got distracted by pictures of Micah. He looked so much like Nathan as a baby. Kera wondered if her grandson would still look like his father as he got older. If he did, would it be joyful or painful for her? Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Kera forced herself back to the task.

Danette’s picture jumped out from the top left corner. She was striking, with prominent wide cheekbones, irises so dark you couldn’t tell where the pupils stopped, and a full mouth that needed no lipstick. Few people would call her cute, but no one could walk past Danette without noticing her. Jackson had commented once that Danette was a darker-toned version of herself and that was probably why Nathan had been attracted to her.

She moved down the page and clicked open Danette’s friend list, hoping to find a dark-haired young man named Chad. He was not in the list of ninety-seven. She clicked open the pages of the last four friends who had commented on Danette’s page and posted the same message:
Have you seen or heard from Danette today? Do you know where she is? If so, please e-mail my FB page
. Kera would have liked to hear from them in person, but she didn’t dare post her phone number on an open Internet page.

The baby cried out, making her jump out of her chair. Kera rushed to the living room. Micah was still on his blanket in the playpen and hadn’t been awake long enough to work up a good wail. She picked him up and headed straight for the diaper bag. How long before she had to go out and buy baby supplies?

Kera fixed a bottle of formula and carried Micah into her office. It was tricky with the baby in her lap, but she managed to check her Facebook e-mail and was pleased to see she had already heard from a young woman named Melissa. Unfortunately, Melissa had nothing to add to the situation but panic. (OMG!!) Kera spent a few minutes responding and soothing the woman’s fears. That was the dilemma. By asking around, she was spreading the worry. If Danette waltzed in an hour later, safe and sound, Kera would feel guilty about getting everyone stirred up over nothing.

This wasn’t nothing
. Jackson sensed it too or he wouldn’t have made all the effort this afternoon.