“Please, baby. Wherever you are, please be safe. If you’re in trouble, I’ll find you... I swear.”
* * *
Detective Darren Floyd was at his desk finishing up a report when his phone rang. He hit Save, then turned around to answer.
“Missing Persons. Detective Floyd speaking.”
“Darren, this is Russell Addison.”
“Russ! My old roomie. What’s going on?”
Russ Addison smiled, remembering their college days together, then got down to business.
“This is actually a serious call. I have an employee who didn’t show up for work this morning, and the circumstances are worrying. She’d been working on this presentation for two weeks, and was primed to deliver. We’ve called without getting an answer, and then had the building manager do a wellness check.”
“Talk to me,” Darren said, and reached for a pen and paper.
Russ began explaining the situation, from Rachel Dean’s work ethic, to the building manager’s findings in her apartment.
“So her name is Rachel Dean? What’s her home address?” Darren asked.
Russ read it from her personnel file. “She lives at the Detter House. You know, that big mansion they turned into apartments in the historic district?”
Darren frowned.
“Yes, I know it. It’s pricey.”
“She’s well paid, and worth every penny. She’s one of my best ad execs. This is an official missing person report. Can you look into it personally?”
“Yes. My partner and I will head out there now. Does the building manager live on the premises?”
“Yes. At least, that’s my understanding,” Russ said. “Also, Rachel Dean has only one living family member. Her name is Millie Chriss. She lives in Tulsa, but they’re very close, so be prepared for her to contact you. And while I do want to know what you find out, from now on please refer all of your discovery and questions to her sister, because she has been notified her sister is missing.”
“Do you have a contact number for her?” Darren asked.
“Yes,” Russ said, and read it to him.
“Okay... I’ve got all I need for now. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks,” Russ said. “I owe you.”
“Nah...just doing my job, buddy. Take care,” Darren said. He grabbed his notes, slipped them into his pocket and stood.
“Hey, Waylon! We’ve got a new one. Let’s go.”
Waylon Mills grabbed his jacket and slipped it on over his gun and shoulder holster as he followed his partner out of the precinct.
* * *
Wayne Dyer was getting ready to run some errands when he received a call from a Dallas police detective, telling him they were on the way to the Detter House to investigate a report of a missing person from the residence, and asked him to be on site to let them into her apartment.
He readily agreed, and then spent the next twenty minutes nervously waiting for them to arrive. When they walked into the manager’s office flashing their badges, his stomach knotted. He’d never had business with the police before, and he was starting to realize that if something really had happened to Rachel Dean, they might consider him a suspect.
“Mr. Dyer?”
“Yes, but call me Wayne.”
Floyd nodded. “I’m Detective Floyd. This is my partner, Detective Mills. We need access to Rachel Dean’s apartment.”
“Yes, sir. I have the passkey. Follow me,” Wayne said, and led them to the elevator, then up to the second floor of the north wing.
Both detectives were checking out security cameras as they headed up the hall.
“Are there security cameras in every hallway in the building?” Mills asked.
“Yes, sir. At both ends of each hallway,” Wayne said.
“What about inside the apartments?” Floyd asked.
“That’s strictly up to the residents. I don’t believe Rachel did, but you can check it out.”
“We’ll need a copy of the security footage on the premises from the last twenty-four hours,” Floyd said.
“I’ll get it for you. You can pick it up on your way out,” Wayne said. “Okay...here we are,” he said, and stopped at the door to apartment 210, unlocked it, then led the way in. The moment they entered the apartment, they heard voices.
“Someone’s talking back there,” Mills said, pointing down a hall off the foyer.
“It’s the television in the bedroom,” Wayne said. “It was on when I came in to do the wellness check. I didn’t mess with anything or touch anything. Her purse and briefcase are here at the entry, just as I saw them when I walked in. There’s partially eaten food on the table in the kitchen, but it’s not breakfast food, and it looks like it’s been there for hours. I also checked to see if her car was still on the premises, and it is. It’s the little red Fiat in the parking garage out back. After that I called the secretary at Addison-Tunnell, who’d asked for the wellness check, to report what I’d found, and then you guys called. That’s the extent of my knowledge about this.”
“Does Rachel Dean have a boyfriend?” Detective Floyd asked.
Wayne shrugged. “I couldn’t say, but I’ve never seen her with anyone in particular. She’s really nice and cute, but she seems focused on her career.”
“We’re going to do a walk-through,” Floyd said. “If we need anything else, we’ll call.”
“What about locking up?” Wayne asked.
“Can we lock it from the inside and just pull the door shut?” Mills asked.
“No, sir,” Wayne said. “How about I leave the passkey with you, and when you’ve finished up, just drop it off when you pick up the security footage.”
“Will do,” Mills said, and took the key, then closed the door behind Dyer after he left.
Floyd glanced around the foyer, then into the living room to their right. Nothing was disturbed, or appeared to be out of place.
“Let’s start in the kitchen,” Floyd said. “You know what to look for.”
Mills saw the utility room and checked it first.
“Hey, there’s a load of laundry in the washer that wasn’t ever put in the dryer,” he said as he came back out.
Floyd pointed to the table. “We’ve got a half-eaten bowl of noodle soup, a dead iPad and the cheese on this plate is hard and curling at the edges. This is not breakfast food. This is from last night, for sure.”