White Hot
Page 90
“How far is your house from Sherwood BioCore?”
“It’s a ten-minute drive. We live in Hunter Creek Village. BioCore is at Post Oak Circle, near the Houstonian Hotel. It’s three and a half miles down Memorial Drive. Even with heavy traffic, he’s usually home in fifteen minutes.”
“Did Edward mention if Brian was planning to make any stops?”
“He didn’t know. He said he wasn’t aware of any meetings scheduled that afternoon.”
“Did he sound concerned?”
She shook her head. “He said he was sure Brian would show up. But I knew something was wrong. I just knew.”
All the standard things someone does when their loved one is missing followed: calls to hospitals and the police station, driving the route to look for the stranded car, talking with people at his job, calling other family members asking if they heard anything, and so on.
“He didn’t come home,” she said, her voice dull. “In the morning I called Edward. He told me not to worry. He said Brian had seemed tense lately and that he would turn up. I told him I would file the police report. He said that he didn’t feel there was a need for it, but if it would make me feel better, I should file it.”
“How did he seem to you?”
“He seemed concerned for me.”
Interesting. “For you? Not for Brian?”
“For me and the kids.”
“And Brian has never done anything like this before?”
She didn’t answer.
“Rynda?”
“He disappears sometimes when he’s stressed,” she said quietly. “He used to. But not for the last three years and never this long. You have to understand, Brian isn’t a coward, he just needs stability. He likes when things are calm.”
That explained why his brother didn’t immediately sound the alarm and bring all hands on deck. “Can you tell me more about it? The last time he disappeared?”
“It was after Kyle’s one-year birthday party. Edward asked if Kyle manifested, and Brian told him no. Then Joshua, Brian’s father—he died a year later—said that Brian and I better get on with making another one, because Jessica is an empath like me and a dud can’t lead the family.”
He called his grandchild a dud.
“Thank you,” Rynda said.
“For what?”
“For your disgust. Brian’s anxiety spiked. I felt an intense need to escape coming from him, so I told them that it was late and the children were tired. The family left. Brian didn’t come to bed. He got into his car and drove off. He came home the next evening. That was the longest he had ever disappeared.”
“Did he say where he went?”
“He said he just drove. He eventually found some small hotel and spent the night there. He came home because he realized that he had no place to go and he missed me and the kids. We are bound, he and I. It’s us against the world. He would never leave me and the last time I saw him he was calm and content.”
Truth.
I rubbed my forehead. “Did you share this with the police?”
“Yes.”
And they dismissed her as being a hysterical woman whose husband bolted when the pressure became too much.
“Do you have access to Brian’s bank records?”
“Yes.” She blinked.
“Can you check if there has been any activity? Has he used his cards in the last few days?”
She grabbed her purse, rummaging through it frantically. “Why didn’t I think of . . . ?” She pulled the phone out and stabbed at it.
A moment passed. Another.
Her face fell. “No. Nothing.”
“Rynda, did you kill your husband?”
She stared at me.
“I need an answer.”
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“No!”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No!”
Truth on all counts.
“There are several possibilities,” I said. “First, something bad could have happened to Brian as a result of House politics or his job. Second, something traumatic could’ve occurred during the workday on Thursday that caused him to go into hiding. I can look for your husband. Alternatively, I can recommend MII. They are a premier agency and very well equipped to handle things like this. You can afford them. You should be aware that we’re a small agency with a fraction of MII’s resources.”
Rynda sat very still.
Someone pounded down the hallway on small feet.
“Mom!” A small boy ran into the kitchen carrying a piece of paper. He had dark hair and Rynda’s silver eyes. She opened her arms and he thrust a piece of paper at her. “I drew a tank! They have a tank in their garage!”
Catalina walked into the room, dark-haired, slender, and a small smile on her face. “Kyle wanted to show you.”
“That’s a scary tank,” Rynda said.
“Come on.” My sister held out her hand to the boy. “I’ll show you more cool stuff.”
Kyle put the paper in front of his mother. “It’s a present for you. I’ll draw one for Dad!” He took off at a run. Catalina sighed and chased him.
Rynda watched him go with an odd look on her face.
“I’ve talked to MII.” She swallowed and I saw a shadow of her mother’s ruthless logic in her eyes. “Montgomery turned me down.”
Interesting. I was really her last resort.
“Very well,” I said. “I will look for Brian.”
She shifted in her seat and blurted out. “I want a contract.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want this to be an act of charity because you killed my mother. I want to pay you.”
“That’s fine.”
“I want things defined and professional.”
“As do I.”
“And our relationship is that of a client and service provider.”
“Agreed,” I said.
I heard a door swing open. A thunderstorm appeared behind me and moved through our house, churning with power and magic. Rogan.
I turned. He reached our kitchen and loomed in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, his blue eyes dark and his magic wrapped around him like a vicious pet snapping its savage teeth. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve backed away and pulled my gun out.
“Connor!” Rynda jumped up from behind the table, cleared the distance between them, and hugged him.
And jealousy stabbed me right in the heart.
Rogan gently put his arms around her. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Rynda choked on a sob. “Brian is missing.”
He was still looking at me. I nodded. Yes. I’m okay.
Rynda pulled away from him. “I didn’t know where to go. I . . .”
“I’m going to take care of it,” I told Rogan.
He finally looked at Rynda. “Nevada is the best you can get.”
I checked my laptop. 5:47 p.m. “Rynda, I have some paperwork for you to sign. There are some preliminary things I can do today, but tomorrow I’ll go and knock on BioCore doors. It would make things easier if you called ahead and advised the family that I’ll be coming by.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
“It’s a ten-minute drive. We live in Hunter Creek Village. BioCore is at Post Oak Circle, near the Houstonian Hotel. It’s three and a half miles down Memorial Drive. Even with heavy traffic, he’s usually home in fifteen minutes.”
“Did Edward mention if Brian was planning to make any stops?”
“He didn’t know. He said he wasn’t aware of any meetings scheduled that afternoon.”
“Did he sound concerned?”
She shook her head. “He said he was sure Brian would show up. But I knew something was wrong. I just knew.”
All the standard things someone does when their loved one is missing followed: calls to hospitals and the police station, driving the route to look for the stranded car, talking with people at his job, calling other family members asking if they heard anything, and so on.
“He didn’t come home,” she said, her voice dull. “In the morning I called Edward. He told me not to worry. He said Brian had seemed tense lately and that he would turn up. I told him I would file the police report. He said that he didn’t feel there was a need for it, but if it would make me feel better, I should file it.”
“How did he seem to you?”
“He seemed concerned for me.”
Interesting. “For you? Not for Brian?”
“For me and the kids.”
“And Brian has never done anything like this before?”
She didn’t answer.
“Rynda?”
“He disappears sometimes when he’s stressed,” she said quietly. “He used to. But not for the last three years and never this long. You have to understand, Brian isn’t a coward, he just needs stability. He likes when things are calm.”
That explained why his brother didn’t immediately sound the alarm and bring all hands on deck. “Can you tell me more about it? The last time he disappeared?”
“It was after Kyle’s one-year birthday party. Edward asked if Kyle manifested, and Brian told him no. Then Joshua, Brian’s father—he died a year later—said that Brian and I better get on with making another one, because Jessica is an empath like me and a dud can’t lead the family.”
He called his grandchild a dud.
“Thank you,” Rynda said.
“For what?”
“For your disgust. Brian’s anxiety spiked. I felt an intense need to escape coming from him, so I told them that it was late and the children were tired. The family left. Brian didn’t come to bed. He got into his car and drove off. He came home the next evening. That was the longest he had ever disappeared.”
“Did he say where he went?”
“He said he just drove. He eventually found some small hotel and spent the night there. He came home because he realized that he had no place to go and he missed me and the kids. We are bound, he and I. It’s us against the world. He would never leave me and the last time I saw him he was calm and content.”
Truth.
I rubbed my forehead. “Did you share this with the police?”
“Yes.”
And they dismissed her as being a hysterical woman whose husband bolted when the pressure became too much.
“Do you have access to Brian’s bank records?”
“Yes.” She blinked.
“Can you check if there has been any activity? Has he used his cards in the last few days?”
She grabbed her purse, rummaging through it frantically. “Why didn’t I think of . . . ?” She pulled the phone out and stabbed at it.
A moment passed. Another.
Her face fell. “No. Nothing.”
“Rynda, did you kill your husband?”
She stared at me.
“I need an answer.”
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“No!”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No!”
Truth on all counts.
“There are several possibilities,” I said. “First, something bad could have happened to Brian as a result of House politics or his job. Second, something traumatic could’ve occurred during the workday on Thursday that caused him to go into hiding. I can look for your husband. Alternatively, I can recommend MII. They are a premier agency and very well equipped to handle things like this. You can afford them. You should be aware that we’re a small agency with a fraction of MII’s resources.”
Rynda sat very still.
Someone pounded down the hallway on small feet.
“Mom!” A small boy ran into the kitchen carrying a piece of paper. He had dark hair and Rynda’s silver eyes. She opened her arms and he thrust a piece of paper at her. “I drew a tank! They have a tank in their garage!”
Catalina walked into the room, dark-haired, slender, and a small smile on her face. “Kyle wanted to show you.”
“That’s a scary tank,” Rynda said.
“Come on.” My sister held out her hand to the boy. “I’ll show you more cool stuff.”
Kyle put the paper in front of his mother. “It’s a present for you. I’ll draw one for Dad!” He took off at a run. Catalina sighed and chased him.
Rynda watched him go with an odd look on her face.
“I’ve talked to MII.” She swallowed and I saw a shadow of her mother’s ruthless logic in her eyes. “Montgomery turned me down.”
Interesting. I was really her last resort.
“Very well,” I said. “I will look for Brian.”
She shifted in her seat and blurted out. “I want a contract.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want this to be an act of charity because you killed my mother. I want to pay you.”
“That’s fine.”
“I want things defined and professional.”
“As do I.”
“And our relationship is that of a client and service provider.”
“Agreed,” I said.
I heard a door swing open. A thunderstorm appeared behind me and moved through our house, churning with power and magic. Rogan.
I turned. He reached our kitchen and loomed in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, his blue eyes dark and his magic wrapped around him like a vicious pet snapping its savage teeth. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve backed away and pulled my gun out.
“Connor!” Rynda jumped up from behind the table, cleared the distance between them, and hugged him.
And jealousy stabbed me right in the heart.
Rogan gently put his arms around her. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Rynda choked on a sob. “Brian is missing.”
He was still looking at me. I nodded. Yes. I’m okay.
Rynda pulled away from him. “I didn’t know where to go. I . . .”
“I’m going to take care of it,” I told Rogan.
He finally looked at Rynda. “Nevada is the best you can get.”
I checked my laptop. 5:47 p.m. “Rynda, I have some paperwork for you to sign. There are some preliminary things I can do today, but tomorrow I’ll go and knock on BioCore doors. It would make things easier if you called ahead and advised the family that I’ll be coming by.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
