All His Pretty Girls Page 4

  ‘Her appointment was at nine at MCM near the freeway.’

  Cord jotted it down.

  ‘What else can you tell us about your wife’s daily routines?’ Alyssa asked. ‘Does she work? Who are her friends?’

  ‘She doesn’t have an out-of-the-house job. She occasionally does freelance copy writing, but that’s pretty sporadic these days. She’s on the board of library advisors, and she volunteers for several national and local charities.’

  ‘Which ones?’ Alyssa asked.

  ‘Race for the Cure, The Cancer Society, American Heart Association, that kind of thing. I don’t remember all of them. I’m sure I can get you a list if you need me to.’ Steepling his hands, he added, almost as an afterthought, ‘She’d just started talking about volunteering for the neonatal unit at the new hospital.’

  ‘What about friends? Does she have any standing lunch dates?’ Cord asked.

  ‘Not standing. She likes to get together with a couple of the girls from yoga once in a while for coffee or a walk in the park. Mostly she’s a self-professed homebody.’

  She was involved in an awful lot of things for a homebody, Alyssa thought. ‘You mentioned your wife was interested in helping out in the neonatal unit. Do the two of you have children of your own, Mr. McCormick?’

  A haunted look fell like a curtain across his face. ‘No. No kids.’ His next words were a whisper of sound. ‘She would’ve made such a great mom.’

  Alyssa zeroed in on the fact that he’d used the past tense. She shot a sideways glance at her partner and saw that he’d noticed, as well.

  ‘What else can you tell us about your wife? Has she mentioned any strange phone calls, someone she might’ve upset intentionally or unintentionally?’ Cord asked.

  Rafe chuckled lightly. ‘No strange calls that I’m aware of, and if Callie has any enemies, I’ll eat my hat. If anything, she makes friends with the strangest of strangers. She’s a good person, detectives. Better than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure.’

  * * *

  Three and a half hours later, after the police technicians had searched through the entire house, including the garage and downstairs, Alyssa and Cord thanked Rafe McCormick and assured him that they would do everything they could to find his missing wife.

  By the time the techs and Officers Roe and White left, Mr. McCormick’s hair stuck out every which way from running his hands through it, not to mention he looked strung out and ready to collapse. While she remained sympathetic to the man’s anguish, Alyssa couldn’t help but tire of the fact that nearly every time he answered a question, he posed one of his own, although it was always the same one. ‘Shouldn’t you be out there looking for her?’ Once again, she had to shut down the memory that her family had once been the ones in Mr. McCormick’s shoes, the ones demanding the police act immediately. Different time, different life, she reminded herself.

  To Rafe, she explained, ‘There’s clear evidence of a struggle, and we’ll be getting right to work on this.’ What she didn’t say was that they would also be looking into the McCormicks’ relationship, among other things.

  As it turned out, Alyssa didn’t have to say it because Rafe McCormick told her as they were leaving, ‘I know you have to look at the husband first, so get it done so you can find my wife. Please.’

  ‘If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call, anytime, day or night,’ Cord said, handing him one of his cards while Alyssa did the same.

  Rafe took the cards, already bending them in his agitation, but he said nothing as he led them to the door.

  Outside and out of Rafe’s earshot, Alyssa said, ‘His hands were clean, no recent scrapes or scratches, no signs of a struggle. So, if McCormick is involved in his wife’s disappearance, he either cleaned up well, or he’s not the one who caused the damage in the entry.’

  ‘Yeah, I had the same thought. And it’s possible, if he is responsible, he may not have any wounds – or visible ones anyway. Regardless, we still need to have a look into their relationship, see if there were financial or marital troubles. And I’d like to get my hands on Callie McCormick’s cell phone records to see why she kept it with her at all times. What was she hiding?’

  ‘Agreed! Before we head out, let’s try the neighbors, the ones McCormick thought his wife might be with,’ Alyssa suggested just as her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since around noon. A quick peek at her watch told her it was nearly eight o’clock now.

  Across the street, Cord knocked on the Mitchells’ door and waited. When it was apparent no one was home, or no one was answering, they walked back to Alyssa’s SUV and climbed in.

  Alyssa made a mental note to try the Mitchells first thing in the morning. They needed some insight into the McCormick family dynamics, though her gut told her the husband had had nothing to do with whatever had happened. Still, her instincts had been wrong before. And when it came to husbands and wives, the closest suspect was often the guilty party.

  ‘You grabbed the notes from the officers canvassing the other neighbors, right?’ she asked as they pulled away from the curb, even though she already knew he had.

  Cord flipped open his folder and rustled some papers. ‘Got ’em right here. Roe said he’d write up a report and put it on your desk before he headed home tonight.’

  Alyssa acknowledged the comment with a nod. They still had a long night ahead of them.

  And she couldn’t help but be aware that Rafe McCormick’s night would likely be longer.

  Chapter Five

  Monday, March 25, 10:45a.m.

  A few minutes after she left the dealership, Callie left a message for Rafe to let him know the technician had addressed her initial concern, as well as fixed a few other minor issues with the car. When she got home, she parked in the garage, and then went inside, automatically hanging her keys on the wooden key rack, ignoring her yapping dogs as she set her things down.

  First things first, Callie thought. She was ravenous, so she’d eat before she cleaned the house. She briefly considered putting off her Monday chores until tomorrow, but she knew she wouldn’t. Looking at the dirt and dog hair would drive her batty, and she’d end up sweeping and mopping anyway.

  Besides, after she cleaned, she could relax with the story she’d been trying to read earlier. She always felt less guilty for reading if she did something productive first.

  Her mind made up, she stared out her kitchen windows. It had been an unseasonably warm winter, and only a little white remained on the mountain, but she enjoyed looking at the diamond-like sparkle of the snow reflecting off the mountainside, so she decided to take advantage of the low winds and eat on her back patio.

  She made herself a tomato sandwich, grabbed a snack bag of wasabi peas, and a glass of water and went outside. She set everything down on the table and petted her two dogs to help calm them.

  ‘Hi, Ranger. Hi, Sassy. How are my good dogs? Do you want a treat? You do?’ Callie watched her Alaskan Malamute and Pekingese run in excited circles upon hearing the word treat. It was amazing how high Sassy, the Pekingese, could jump when she really wanted something. She laughed as they bumped each other out of the way in order to get the first tasty morsel. Rafe was always frustrated with her for giving the dogs snacks when she was trying to calm them down because it never failed to have the opposite effect.

  She broke one steak-flavored treat into small pieces for Sassy, and after watching Ranger sit and shake, fed him two. The dogs relaxed, and she rubbed their heads before sitting down to enjoy her own lunch.

  ‘Go on now. It’s my turn to eat.’ Both dogs wagged their tails and lay down, placing their heads on their paws as they looked hopeful that she would drop her human food on the ground. She laughed as Ranger army crawled closer. Placement was key to snatching up any droppings.

  She had just taken a few bites of her sandwich and was munching on a handful of wasabi peas when someone knocked loudly, using the old-fashioned brass knocker they’d installed on their
wooden door, and then rang the doorbell, which had the unpleasant effect of riling her dogs. Why did people do that? Knock or ring the doorbell, one or the other. Not both, she muttered to herself.

  Ranger and Sassy jumped up, turned in circles, tails wagging ferociously, and looked at each other as if to ask, ‘Who’s here? Can we play?’ She put her hand out, palm down, giving them the signal to stay and be quiet. They plopped down, their tails brushing the cement in anticipation of visitors who might play with them.

  She peered at the clock hanging on the patio wall beside the window and wondered who it might be. She had a package coming, but that wouldn’t arrive until later in the week. She hoped it wasn’t the new neighbor, who had a propensity for popping in and asking for bizarre things. ‘Whatever happened to asking for a cup of sugar?’ she’d complained to Rafe after one odd request for half a cup of flour, egg white alternatives, and gelatin.

  She considered not answering the door, but recalled how, not too long ago, there was a rash of break-ins not far from here. The thieves would knock on someone’s door, and if no one answered, they broke in and robbed the people blind. Not willing to risk it, she knew she wouldn’t wait to see if the unannounced visitor would simply go away.

  She walked through her kitchen, setting her glass and partially eaten lunch on the counter near the sink. As she passed through the front room with the large window, she tried to see who was at the door. Sometimes after knocking or ringing the doorbell, people – like her new neighbor – peered into the window. It was something that puzzled her and frustrated Rafe. ‘Who does that?’ Rafe griped every single time.

  But now, seeing no one through the glass, Callie approached the door, and as was her habit, peeked through the peephole.

  She didn’t know the man standing at the door, though he looked vaguely familiar. He was dressed in business attire and holding something in his hand. Maybe she’d seen him around the neighborhood, peddling whatever he was here to sell. She groaned. Just what she needed – a salesperson. She was never good at getting rid of them, and she always felt guilty saying no, afraid if she didn’t purchase something, it would be her fault if the person ended up in the poor house – a state of living she never wanted to return to and would never wish on anyone else. Inevitably, she ended up with lots of things she didn’t want or need and would never use. It drove Rafe nuts. Longing only to return to her solitude, she opened the door instead.

  * * *

  ‘Hi,’ Callie said through the locked screen door. She knew it was no real protection against anyone who really wanted in, but it still gave her a moderate sense of security.

  The man appeared embarrassed. ‘Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt you. I was hoping I could have a few minutes of your time.’ He looked at Callie expectantly.

  Actually, no, you can’t, is what she wanted to say. ‘Sure, I have a few minutes. How can I help you?’

  The man let out a breath and let his shoulders relax. ‘Thanks. I’m not here to sell you anything, by the way. Really.’

  Well, that’s a relief, Callie thought. Outwardly, she laughed lightly and said, ‘Oh, okay, good.’ As she waited for the man to continue, she took in his appearance and decided he looked harmless enough. Still, one could never be too careful – just look at Ted Bundy. Besides, while this guy seemed safe, there was something just weird enough about him that it set her ick-o-meter swinging. Maybe it was the nervous way he smiled or the way his eyes kept shifting or something else… but there was definitely something.

  ‘I’m new to the area. I just moved here from Minnesota. My house is around the corner,’ the man said, pointing.

  Um, okay. ‘Welcome to Albuquerque. The weather’s much nicer here,’ she joked. ‘Of course, that’s just my opinion.’ She knew this also annoyed Rafe – he thought she was too friendly to the people who came to the door, telling her it only encouraged them.

  The man chuckled and ran his hand over his face. ‘Yeah, I’d have to agree on that point. Shoveling snow in Minnesota is not a good time.’ He looked away, blushing, then turned back and continued. ‘So, um, I was driving around, checking things out, kind of getting a feel for the area…’ He paused again, looking like he’d rather be doing anything else except standing there.

  From a young age, her parents had instilled in her the importance of unfailing politeness, telling her that just because they were poor didn’t mean they had to be rude, and now that need to be kind to strangers reared its head as she watched the poor guy shuffle from foot to foot, feeling sorry for him. ‘And how can I help you?’ she finally asked, since she was pretty sure he hadn’t knocked just to tell her about his move.

  The man inhaled deeply and blurted out, ‘My car broke down.’ He nodded down the road to a blue car. It was too far away to tell what model it was. ‘This is so awkward.’ He glanced at Callie then the ground, kicking at the leaf that had blown under his shoe. Looking back up, he said, ‘I was hoping you could recommend a good tow company and give me the number… Umm… and let me borrow your phone. I left mine charging at home. I didn’t expect to be gone more than a few minutes. But I also didn’t know my car was going to die. I tried some of your neighbors, but either nobody’s home or no one’s answering.’ He stared at Callie hopefully.

  Why didn’t he just run back to his house to get his phone?

  As if reading her mind, he said, ‘I forgot to put my house key on my key ring, and the garage door isn’t working, so… yeah.’ He shook his head and shrugged. ‘I figured I’d worry about how to get back into my house later. I keep wondering what else can possibly go wrong today.’

  Callie sincerely wished she didn’t have such a compulsion to always answer the door or a ringing phone. But, she did, and as much as she regretted it and wanted to say she was sorry, but no, she couldn’t help, she knew she wouldn’t turn this man away any more than she would’ve declined to purchase something from him if he had been a peddler. Instead, she said, ‘Sure. Let me just grab my phone. I’ll be right back.’

  She turned to go, but stopped when the man said, ‘Thanks. Um, do you mind if I wait inside?’ Little alarms went off in her head. She might be friendly, but she wasn’t stupid.

  She gave a regretful smile, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid my dogs might bite you.’ It was a white lie, but it sounded better than the truth – that she was scared to let him in, and her dogs were more likely to lick him to death than bite him. She was somewhat happy to help, but letting a strange man into her house was pushing it a bit much.

  The man’s face turned red. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. Again. You don’t even know me. I’m still getting used to living in a town where not everyone knows you and your entire family. I’ll just wait here while you get your phone. I really do appreciate your help.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be right back.’ She considered closing the main door, but didn’t want to appear rude, so she left it open. Besides, the screen door was still locked. She grabbed her phone from the kitchen and walked back to the front door. ‘I keep one of the tow company’s number stored on my phone because I never know when I might need it. Let me just find it.’ She scrolled through her contacts until she found what she was looking for. ‘Okay, here it is. Anytime Towing.’ She reached for the door, saying, ‘I just love their slogan: Don’t use your hands when you can just use our tows. So clever. But they really are good and fast, and reasonably priced. I happen to know that from experience. So, here ya go.’ She was still talking as she opened the door to hand the man her phone.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said as he reached for it. But instead of grabbing her phone, he grabbed her wrist, first yanking, then pushing and throwing her off balance. That was when the first pain shot through her arm. The man twisted it, shoving her back through her own door. Scared yet not comprehending what was happening, Callie stared at the man’s hand.

  Chapter Six

  Tuesday, March 26

  Cord walked into their shared office – or more acc
urately, their shared cubicle space – carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He’d called thirty minutes earlier to let her know he’d be running a little late.

  ‘Tell me that’s a double shot, strong, and I’ll be your slave for the day!’ Even though she’d already had two cups that morning, Alyssa’s mouth watered.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what you say every time, and I’m still waiting,’ Cord laughed as he set down her coffee. ‘And a double shot vanilla latte, no foam, extra whip for me.’

  ‘You know, I didn’t get my run in this morning, and I might not have been such a crank if you’d just told me you were going to be late because you were stopping to pick up my special brand of poison. Speaking of which, how can you stand to drink that sweet stuff? And what’s the point of no foam if you’re just going to fill that space up with whipped cream? Blech!’ She shuddered dramatically.

  Cord lifted the lid off his cup and stuck his lips into the whipped cream, making him look like a clown. He licked the cream off his mouth, and said, ‘I’d tell you I don’t know how you can drink that sludge with no sweetener, but I know you’ll just tell me you don’t need any sugar when you’re already sweet enough.’

  Grinning, Alyssa said, ‘That’s right. I keep telling you I’ll stir your coffee with my finger, and that’ll add all the sweet you need.’ They laughed at their familiar banter and then got down to business, pulling out the file on the missing McCormick woman.

  ‘Not that I expected to get that lucky, but no one’s reported an abandoned car matching Rafe McCormick’s description of his wife’s Jeep. No witnesses, no calls, no leads. Nothing. How does someone just vanish with no one noticing anything? We don’t know if we’re looking at a robbery gone bad, or something else, something worse.’ Alyssa tried not to think of her family’s own devastating end to their tragedy, reminding herself that Callie McCormick was an adult, not a child.