Profile of Terror (8 page)

"Any chance you have a copy of the surveillance tape for that night?"

"I'll check.  It's there unless we taped over it."  Olsen headed toward the back of the bar, and returned with a DVD that he handed to Gabe.  "Here it is. Knock yourself out.  Hope you find her."

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Parking his truck outside his office building the next day, Gabe grabbed his briefcase and got out of the truck.  Glancing at his office window on the second floor, he noticed the blinds were open and the lights were on.  What the hell? 

Reaching back into his truck to his glove compartment, he pulled out his Glock and slipped it in his waistband.  If someone had broken into his office and was still there, he wanted to be prepared.

Entering the building, he held his briefcase in his left hand, and pulled out his gun with his right.  Leaning toward his right, his hip skimmed the railing as he crept up the stairs to the second floor.  Once on the landing, he leaned against the wall and peeked down the hallway.  His office door was open, and the scent of hot coffee wafted in the air.

Within seconds, he was standing in his office door frame, watching a woman he'd never seen before pour dark coffee into a mug.

"It's about time you got here," she said, once she noticed him leaning against the door frame.  "Don't you keep regular office hours?  I've been waiting since eight o'clock.  Do you take cream and sugar in your coffee?"  Gabe shook his head, and watched her pour coffee into a second mug.  She took a seat on one of his guest chairs, crossing her mile-long legs.  Sipping her coffee, she seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

Taking a second to size her up, Gabe decided she looked familiar, yet he was certain they'd never met. She was a dead-ringer for actress Jennifer Aniston, with silvery-blonde hair tumbling to her shoulders, full, lush lips, and a mischievous twinkle in her ocean-blue eyes.  No, he definitely didn't know her.  This woman, he would have remembered.  Yet, he couldn't let go of how familiar she seemed.

Depositing his briefcase on the floor, Gabe slipped his gun into a desk drawer, pulled out his office chair and sat down as he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt.

Leaning across his desk, he said, "I don't want to seem rude, but who are you and how did you get into my office?" 

"I'll ask the questions, Mr. Chase," she began.  "Why did you illegally enter my sister's apartment yesterday and copy the contents of her laptop?  Better yet, where's Abby?"

Gabe didn't know what surprised him more:  That Abby had a sister, or that she was hiding in Abby's apartment and saw what he did.  Hadn't he done a sweep of the apartment before he downloaded the information on her laptop?  It was then he realized he hadn't checked the coat closet in the living room or the bedroom closet. 
Great detective work.

He took a shot at distracting her. "Who are you?  Abby doesn't have a sister.  So it sounds like you're the one who indulged in a little breaking and entering."

"Good try.  Don't try to sidetrack me.  It won't work.  You're a private investigator.  Did someone hire you to find Abby?"

Gabe scrubbed his hands over his face. "No one hired me to find Abby.  We used to date, and I had a key to her apartment. When I heard she was reported missing, I talked to the police, and then I went to her place to check out things for myself."

"What did you find out?"

"For one thing, her purse containing her wallet, credit cards and iPhone weren't there."

"I noticed that, too," she said quietly. "She never goes anywhere without her designer purse.  It's attached to her like Velcro."

Gazing at her for a moment, he stretched out his hand to her. "Can we start over with introductions?  I'm Gabe Chase." 

Clasping his hand, she responded, "I'm Kaitlyn Reece."

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Sipping her coffee, Kaitlyn let her eyes move over him.  His jet-black hair curled over his ears and the collar of his white shirt.  Long and lean, with broad shoulders and a wide chest, he was handsome as the devil, with a few days growth on his sculpted jaw.  And why he seemed familiar to her was a mystery. 

It was the muscles rippling under his white shirt that quickened her pulse as he leaned across the desk, dangerously close to her.  Kaitlyn decided Gabe Chase was too good-looking for his own good.  No, she corrected herself, he was drop-dead gorgeous.  That her sister dated him was no surprise.  To Abby, a man like Gabe would be another notch on her bedpost until she tired of him and threw him away like an old toy.

If that was what happened, she empathized with him.  She knew from personal experience that getting dumped was no picnic.

"I'm not surprised Abby didn't tell you she had a sister," Kaitlyn said softly.

"Why is that?"

"We aren't close by any stretch of the imagination.  Abby and I have polar-opposite personalities.  I'm the responsible, older daughter who has life goals, and Abby is the younger wild-child who's been giving my mother ulcers since she was fourteen-years-old.  If our father had stuck around, I'm sure she would have driven him to distraction, too."

"How did you find me, Kaitlyn?"  Gabe asked, with a long, searching look.

"After you left the apartment yesterday, I watched you talk with Abby's landlady. Once you left, I had a talk with Dr. Ramsey myself.  She told me who you were and gave me your business card.  Later in the evening, I parked outside your building.  I saw you pull up in your truck.  So I waited until you entered the building, opened your office blinds, and turned on the lights.  Then I slipped into the lobby to check the mailboxes — Gabriel Chase, Private Investigations, Suite 201."

"That doesn't explain how you got in my locked office."

Kaitlyn shot him a sly, secretive smile and said, "I have my ways."

"Besides accusing me of breaking and entering, why are you here?" he asked sarcastically, wanting to put all the pieces together. 

"I want to hire you to find Abby."  Kaitlyn raised her eyes to his expectantly.

"I'm not sure I want to work for someone who accuses me of criminal acts."  His response was curt, delivered in a cool, distant tone.  Gabe was determined to find Abby, but wasn't at all sure he wanted to work for anyone but himself to do it.

Kaitlyn angrily pushed out of her chair and hissed, "Then I'll find her myself.  I found you, didn't I?"

"That would be a dangerous and stupid move on your part."

"That's for me to judge," she returned.

When she stood to leave, Gabe grasped her arm, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.  "I'll find her, Kaitlyn."

"You will?"  Kaitlyn sat back down.  "We haven't discussed the money part. How much is your fee?"

"This one is on the house on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You leave the investigative footwork to me. You don't have the training I have.  Asking questions of the wrong people can get you hurt."  Gabe paused, and then continued, "There are some other ways you can help."

"Good.  I'll do anything."  For the first time, Kaitlyn felt a sense of relief, and just a little hope.  It wasn't that she wanted to help, she had to.  If she wasn't doing something to find her sister, she'd go crazy.

"Since we didn't find her purse, I hope you can answer a couple of questions."

"Sure, what are they?"

"Where does Abby bank?"

Kaitlyn thought for a second, and then said, "I think she uses Purdue Credit Union like I do."

Gabe made a note. "Does she have gas cards or credit cards?"

"Yes, Chevron for the gas card, and she has a VISA credit card."

"That's helpful, Kaitlyn.  It gives me enough information to do some online research into when and where Abby last used her accounts.  I'm also going to call one of my contacts to get a ping on her iPhone to see when it was last used," Gabe said.  "In the meantime, there are some more things you can do to help, if you have time."

"Yes, of course."

"Follow me," Gabe said, as he led Kaitlyn to double pocket doors she hadn't noticed.  He slid them open to reveal a living area with a black leather sofa and chair, and an oval ebony coffee table. Mounted on the wall opposite the furniture was a large, flat screen television.  There was also a small kitchen.  The flooring was oak throughout, save for an ivory shag rug under the coffee table.

"What a great space," she said as she scanned the room.

"All my computer equipment is here in my office to work on computer forensics cases.  On nights when I work especially late, I just stay here instead of driving home," Gabe said.  "I figured you can work in here, while I'm doing computer research in my office."

"Okay.  What do you want me to do?"

"Make a list of Abby's friends, and call each one to find out the last time she was seen.  We need the when and where."

"Sure.  I can do that.  But keep in mind, I don't know all of her friends." A pang of guilt shot through her.  She should know her sister's friends.  She would have if she'd done more to make amends with Abby.  Maybe if she had
. . .

"Call the ones you know. After you get those calls made, you can make a missing person flyer.  I'll bring in a laptop for you.  After you create it, we'll have copies made."

"Good idea.  While I'm talking with Abby's friends, I'll ask them if they'll help distribute and post the missing flyers."

Gabe left the room to retrieve one of his laptops for her to use.  When he returned, she was settled on the sofa, making a list on a yellow pad of paper she'd found on his coffee table.  Once he set up the laptop for her, he returned to the computer in his office and immediately typed in her name for a Google search.  The first piece of information he found about Kaitlyn Reece was an engagement announcement, with a photo of Kaitlyn and a man named Mitch Bargo standing together in a park. According to the article, Kaitlyn and Mitch were to be married in September of last year.  This seemed curious to Gabe.  There was no wedding ring on Kaitlyn's finger.  Not that it was any of his business, but he wondered what had happened to prevent the wedding.  Or maybe she was one of those women who didn't wear her wedding ring.

On the LinkedIn website, he discovered Kaitlyn was a Purdue University graduate in elementary education, with honors. On Facebook and Twitter, she was an infrequent user and had posted no messages since the year before.

He watched Kaitlyn in the next room pacing back and forth in front of his entertainment center as she talked on her cell phone to one of Abby's friends.  Making the call was obviously hard for her.  Her voice fragile and shaking, she wiped away a tear as she asked Abby's friend for help.

Gabe used the clearance he'd gotten from Brody last year to get information from Abby's gas cards, credit cards, and bank.  He discovered that none of the accounts had been accessed since her disappearance.  Not a good sign.