All His Pretty Girls Page 3

  Callie had no interest in these particular stars, so she simply smiled at the man and returned to the story in her hand, hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone.

  ‘I mean, don’t these people realize marriage takes a little bit of effort? Don’t you agree?’

  It was obvious she wasn’t going to get out of this conversation so, sighing, she turned to the man. ‘Yes, marriage isn’t an easy venture, but my husband and I have always worked hard at ours,’ she said while playing with her two-carat, pear-shaped wedding ring. Though it seems like one of us tries harder than the other, she thought.

  To her dismay, her comment allowed the man to jump into a conversation about the disastrous marriages that had befallen the country in the last half-century. Callie listened politely while glancing down surreptitiously, noticing that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring himself. Of course, not all married couples had a double-ring ceremony, but it was fairly uncommon not to. And not all men wore their rings. In fact, her father had rarely worn his, afraid he’d get it caught on one of his woodworking machines.

  While the man droned on, she began to suspect he was lonely and just happy to have an attentive audience. He was certainly friendly, the type she never wanted to sit next to on a long plane ride. When she was in the air, she wanted to lose herself in sleep or a novel – not in the life story of a passenger she’d likely never see again.

  ‘Would you like me to get you another cup?’ The man interrupted her thoughts, pointing to her now empty Styrofoam cup.

  ‘What? Oh, that’s kind of you, but no, thank you. I’ve had my limit of caffeine for today. I’ve got my water here,’ she said, holding up her bottle.

  ‘You probably like that fancy stuff they got on every corner anyway,’ he said before launching into a commentary about how shameful it was that so many large companies were running mom-and-pop shops out of business. She almost confessed that Rafe owned a couple of those fancy coffee shops. Instead, she accepted she wasn’t going to get any further reading done, and not wanting to run her battery down, she closed her e-reader and gave her almost-full attention to the talkative gentleman. She was in for quite the friendly conversation, like it or not.

  As he spoke, she noticed certain details. For instance, he wore a buzz cut, hinting at a possible past military career, and spoke with a slight accent, though she couldn’t quite place it. His voice was smooth and warm, grandfatherly almost. She was still trying to place his accent when she realized he was asking her a question.

  ‘I hope that’s not too forward?’

  She blinked. Forward? She’d obviously tuned out more than she realized.

  ‘I said I like that color.’ He nodded toward her blouse. ‘It looks good on you, especially with your hair color. Blondes have more fun, right?’ He winked, then added, ‘I always liked when my wife wore blue.’

  ‘Um, thank you,’ she said, feeling awkward. She scooted herself further into her chair, hoping she wasn’t being obvious about it. As she did, the man’s words sank in: liked, wore.

  Past tense.

  The man started to twist the ring that wasn’t on his finger before realizing what he was doing. ‘I work a lot with my hands and had to take my ring off. I still forget it’s not there.’

  ‘My dad used to do the same thing,’ Callie assured the man.

  When a minute passed in silence, Callie began to hope he was finished, but then he bounced right into another story, content to carry the conversation himself.

  She was relieved when the door jingled and three more customers, two elderly gentlemen and a younger man, entered the lobby. After checking in with the receptionist, the two older men took seats on the opposite side of the room, close to the television in the corner while the younger man randomly grabbed a magazine, and after taking a quick sweep of the seating situation, sat where he could easily see everyone, and proceeded to read. She hoped her new friend would include them in his dialogue so she could continue reading. Nope, no such luck.

  Finally, after more than an hour and a half of very, God help her, detailed conversation – some of it excruciating in minutiae – the service technician announced her car was ready. Callie stood and gathered her belongings. Before she could make her way to the counter, the man also stood.

  He grabbed one of her hands in both of his and shook it vigorously. ‘It was so nice to meet you. It was kind of you to listen to an old man’s rambling.’ The man turned a little red, and she felt guilty for wishing he’d stop yammering.

  ‘It was a pleasure listening to you,’ she lied. ‘Have a great day.’ She walked to the counter and paid her bill, waving to the man one last time before walking out the door. As soon as she got in her car and drove away, she pushed the weird conversation to the back of her mind and focused instead on the things she wanted to get done.

  She never noticed anyone staring at her intently as she left.

  Chapter Four

  Monday, March 25, 4:20p.m.

  Alyssa locked the car and whistled at the opulent beauty of the two-story red brick house in front of her. The McCormicks lived in one of Albuquerque’s finer upper middle-class neighborhoods. This one happened to be one of the more recently developed ones, so everything was bright and shiny and new. ‘Nice landscaping,’ she said as she and Cord walked up the paved pathway to the front door.

  She admired the vibrant reds, yellows, and pinks of the rose bushes, so much like the ones her mom had grown before tragedy struck. In a raised bed, tulips popped up from the soil. The trees were already sprouting new leaves, and various flowers, along with the roses, were in early bloom, making the air heavy with the flowery perfume. Spring was in the air.

  The front door of the house was already open, so the two of them entered the foyer without knocking. Potted plants adorned every corner, clustered together in groups of three. Suspended from a hook on the wall was a twirling red chile emblazoned with the saying, Mi casa es su casa. Cord nudged Alyssa and nodded toward the windows.

  ‘Would you look at that view? I could definitely get used to seeing that every day.’ The back of the house boasted a large window, making a natural picture frame for the backdrop of the beautiful Sandia Mountains, capped with what little snow the area had received this year and which hadn’t yet melted off. It made for a stunning contrast to the already greening valley. To the right was an equally impressive view of downtown. The reflection from the glass made everything seem larger. ‘And that, my friend, is why it’s called the Land of Enchantment,’ Cord murmured.

  ‘It’s certainly one of the reasons we stay here,’ Alyssa agreed as she eyed the assortment of photographs and framed artwork that adorned the walls on either side of the windows. She refused to think of the other reasons she lived in New Mexico instead of her home state of Indiana.

  Eager to abandon that train of thought before it derailed her, Alyssa approached a young officer who looked up from snapping pictures. She leaned around him to see what he was photographing, and when she saw it, she poked Cord and pointed to a rather large indentation in the wall near the base of the stairs. What appeared to be blood was splattered there, as well as nearby on the floor.

  ‘How’s the new baby, Joe?’ Alyssa greeted him, noticing the exhaustion in the man’s eyes.

  Officer Roe paused in what he was doing and glanced up. ‘Colicky. Anthony’s in the living room, interviewing the husband.’ He pointed in the general direction and returned to what he was doing.

  ‘It’ll get easier,’ Alyssa assured him. When he responded with a grunt, she smiled.

  Following the sound of voices, she rounded a corner into a grandiose living area connected to a wide open and quite gorgeous kitchen. With her training, she was able to mentally record several details with just a glance. She felt a tiny twinge of envy, wishing she owned a kitchen like this – not that she’d have much time to utilize it. Suspended from the high ceiling were copper-bottomed pots and pans. An arrangement of herbs and spices hung in wicker baskets above a stainles
s-steel sink, filling the room with a slight herbal scent. Granite countertops and cherry cabinets completed the room. Dotted throughout the house were what Alyssa liked to think of as Southwestern décor requisites: a Kokopelli plaque, along with other fetishes, a howling coyote statue, and the colorful pottery that could be found almost anywhere one went. She herself had many of the same types of things, though her own collection seemed far less expensive than the McCormicks’.

  The living room was open to, but not part of, the kitchen and gave the space a welcoming feel. Along one wall, near a fireplace, was a red leather sofa where a dark-haired man in his early to mid-forties sat stroking a beautiful dog, an Alaskan Malamute, if her guess was correct. She and her brother had owned one when they were kids. She’d always thought she’d get another when she was older but had never gotten around to it. Even her children had stopped pleading for a dog. With everyone’s schedules as hectic as they were, they just didn’t have the time required to devote to a pet.

  On the mantle above the fireplace were several framed photographs. One of the silver frames had been taken down, leaving a clean spot in the light dusting of the wood. The picture now sat on a glass coffee table. Alyssa took a quick look. The woman in the picture was petite and quite stunning with her long blonde hair and striking green eyes. In the photo, she wore a brilliant yellow strapless summer dress that made her eyes stand out even more than they already did. Hanging off one finger was a pair of matching strappy yellow sandals.

  Officer Anthony White, whose name aptly described his pasty color, wrote something in his notebook as she and Cord approached. Hearing their footsteps, the man on the couch looked up expectantly, or maybe a more accurate description would be hopefully. She wasn’t sure which, and probably it was a little of both.

  When he saw Alyssa, the man did a double take, and even though he continued to stare, the frightened gleam in his eyes reappeared, and he rubbed the back of his neck before running his hand through his already ruffled hair.

  ‘Here are Detectives Wyatt and Roberts now,’ Officer White nodded his head toward them. To Cord and Alyssa, he said, ‘Mr. McCormick just finished a rundown of what transpired from the time he arrived home to the time he contacted the police.’ He ripped off a sheet of paper and handed it to Cord who briefly scanned the page.

  ‘Thanks, Tony,’ Cord said. ‘We’ll take it from here.’

  Alyssa waited for Officer White to leave the room before she began. ‘Mr. McCormick? I’m Detective Wyatt. We understand you think something happened to your wife. Why don’t –?’

  ‘I don’t think something’s happened to my wife; I know. Didn’t you see the foyer when you came in? And I’ve already told the other two everything I know,’ Rafe McCormick interrupted.

  ‘We understand, and we apologize, but we really need to hear your account firsthand for ourselves, make sure nothing gets left out in the retelling of events.’ Cord’s voice was simultaneously full of compassion and authority. ‘Oftentimes, when people are distraught, little details are overlooked or omitted the first time through. Sometimes one little detail is all we need to locate a loved one.’

  Aiming a weary look at the detectives, Rafe McCormick released a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. Voice heavy with exhaustion and worry, he began. ‘When I got home, I was on my phone dealing with an issue from work, so I didn’t notice right off that my wife’s car was gone.’

  Alyssa interrupted. ‘Where do you work?’

  ‘I own The Espresso Grind cafés,’ Rafe said, his eyes shifting to the other room as Roe and White discussed the dent in the wall. Though they spoke quietly, their words still carried.

  Alyssa drew Mr. McCormick’s attention back to her. ‘Do you normally arrive home from work around the same time every day?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. We open the stores at five every morning, so I’m frequently there by four-thirty, so I can leave again before rush hour traffic hits.’

  She nodded. ‘I see. Please go on.’

  ‘As I was saying, I hadn’t noticed Callie’s vehicle was gone until I finished my conversation and yelled for her like I always do. When she didn’t answer, I thought maybe she was across the street with our friends, but when I went back through the garage, I realized her Jeep wasn’t there. I decided to grab a drink before I called to check where she was, and that’s when I noticed her lunch on the counter… and I realized the house hadn’t been cleaned, either.’

  Alyssa let her gaze sweep around the room. It looked clean to her.

  ‘Callie has a touch of OCD, and she always cleans on Mondays, whether the house needs it or not. Afterwards, she lights scented candles because the chemicals in the cleaning supplies give her a headache. Those damn things give me a headache. But, as you can see for yourselves, none of her candles have been lit.’

  Cord glanced at Alyssa, eyebrows arched. Obsessive compulsive disorder or a need for perfection? Alyssa had a tendency to lean towards perfectionism herself, so it was a trait she well understood.

  Her memory transferred her back to her childhood where she’d tried to become the model daughter in order to make up for the most destructive, life-altering mistake she could’ve ever made. It didn’t matter that she was only nine…

  Cord coughed, effectively snapping Alyssa back to the interview where she belonged – not in a past that would never change.

  She refocused her attention on Rafe McCormick.

  ‘My wife has an aversion to her routine being interrupted and hates dirty dishes on the counter, much less food left out. Anyway, that’s when I realized the dogs were still outside – Callie knows I don’t like to leave them out there when we’re not home – so I opened the patio door to let them in and noticed they were acting a little strange.’

  ‘Strange how?’ Alyssa asked.

  Rafe McCormick took a deep breath and tangled his hands in the dog’s fur. It was a good thing the dog didn’t seem to mind because it looked painful. While he worked on regaining his composure, Alyssa studied the part of his hands and forearms that were visible at a glance. There were no obvious signs of a struggle. Which could mean something or nothing at this point.

  ‘They were whining and kept running from the kitchen to the front of the house and back again, like they wanted me to follow. So, I did.’ He swallowed. ‘That’s when I saw Callie’s phone. My wife never goes anywhere without her phone. She won’t even go to the mailbox without it. Hell, she takes it to the bathroom with her. It’s like an extension of her hand,’ Rafe whispered, almost to himself.

  Alyssa and Cord exchanged glances. Why would his wife take her phone everywhere, including the bathroom? Was she afraid her husband would discover an affair? Some other secret? She nodded as her partner jotted down get phone records.

  Mr. McCormick looked up. ‘Did you see the foyer?’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Callie’s phone was on the floor, the screen broken.’ He looked up, his eyes pleading with theirs. ‘And then I saw the hole in the wall and the blood, and I knew…’ His legs began to shake. ‘I knew something bad had happened. And I called you guys.’

  At that moment, a Pekingese waddled out from beneath a table and jumped onto Mr. McCormick’s lap. Alyssa watched as he lowered his face to rest against the small dog. She thought he might be trying to wipe away the tears that had sprung up in his eyes. Real or for the detectives’ benefit?

  She glanced at Cord, glad he was taking notes. The two of them had a well-oiled system where Cord took down information while she concentrated on observing behaviors and other details. They would compare written and mental notes later.

  She’d loved working with Ellie, her last partner, before she had moved to southern New Mexico, and had been concerned that it would take a while to get used to working with someone new – and for someone to get used to working with her. But her worries were for naught because Cord’s naturally laid-back personality was the perfect complement to her well-known caffeine-riddled one, especially when his low-key,
teddy bear-like approach encouraged witnesses and suspects alike to place their trust in him. On the downside, she never got to play ‘good cop’ to his ‘bad.’ With her take-charge attitude and naturally suspicious nature, it always backfired. They didn’t even try anymore.

  Now, Cord scanned his notepad and said, ‘Earlier, you mentioned you thought your wife might be at a friend’s house?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Can I get their names?’

  Rafe cleared his throat, moved the small dog to the couch, and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes, clearly aggravated.

  ‘Mr. McCormick – may I call you Rafe?’ Alyssa asked. At his nod, she continued. ‘We understand you’re upset and worried about your wife. We know it’s frustrating having to recount what you’ve already given in a statement to Officers Roe and White. But you also need to understand that we need as much information as possible. We don’t ask questions we don’t presume are important.’ If she sounded impatient, it’s because she was, but if the man wanted his wife found, she didn’t have time to sugarcoat things.

  ‘We want the same thing as you, to locate Callie,’ Cord added, his tone much friendlier than Alyssa’s.

  ‘Terrie and Richard Mitchell.’

  ‘These are your neighbors? Your friends across the street?’ Cord clarified.

  Rafe nodded. ‘We met when Ranger got out one day and ended up in their yard.’

  Hearing his name, Ranger placed one paw on his owner’s leg and laid his head down. Rafe ruffled the dog’s mane.

  ‘When did you last see your wife?’ Cord asked.

  ‘This morning before I left for work,’ Rafe said, ‘and I talked to her this morning when I made the appointment at the dealership for her to get her car worked on.’ He tilted his head toward the ceiling and said, ‘I tried to talk her into just buying a new car, but she liked that old Jeep of hers. Anyway, she called me when she left the shop sometime before eleven to let me know she was headed home.’

  ‘What time did she take her car in, and what dealership?’ Cord asked.