| |
My first order of business this morning was to answer my email. I kept up correspondence with a lot of people, some for pleasure and some because they were useful contacts. I was barely getting started when a little further down the list I saw an email from John Perez. Still angry, I was tempted to delete it unread until I noticed it was from a strange email address I didn't recognize. It had also been delivered to one of my obscure email addresses, one I only used to keep in touch with my more unsavory contacts. I would have sworn John didn't know about this address. My curiosity was aroused, so I opened it. As I began reading, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
“Tav, I know you are mad at me right now, but I also know you won't ignore what I am about to tell you. I am sending this information to you in a way I am pretty sure no one can trace. I strongly suggest you eliminate it completely from your computer once you've read it.
For the past week, a man has been following me. Whoever it is knows what they are doing, because so far, I haven't been able to identify him. I don't know why he is following me, but his intent can't be good since he’s carrying and taking great pains to remain unseen. I am working two cases, either of which might have worried someone enough to cause them to take action. The first is a murder case, and I believe the person responsible is a serial killer with nine victims already. Recently I got close enough to see him, but unfortunately, he also saw me. The second involves widespread prostitution in the Phoenix area. I have reason to believe some high-level people are involved, and they know I recently acquired some information they don't want made public. I have attached what I know on both cases to this email. Just hang on to the attached files, and if anything should happen to me, do what you think best. You know you are my best friend in this world. I know I overstepped in involving you in the LeAnn Silva case, but considering our past, what else could I do? I also knew you will forgive me eventually. Take care of yourself and I'll talk to you soon. Love always, John.”
I printed the email and the attachments and then obliterated it from my computer. I intended to keep the file in my safe. I knew John well enough to read between the lines of his message. I'd never known him to be scared of anything, but the tone of his email made it obvious he was worried. I wondered what he wasn't telling me. All thought of remaining angry with him had disappeared. Our friendship ran too deep for holding a grudge. First, I would read his file, and then I would call him and set up a meeting. No matter how detailed the file was, there would be questions I wanted to ask. I could help, and to keep him safe I would do anything I could. I chuckled when I realized that once again the man was involving me in helping the good guys.
It took me the rest of the morning to read through John's file. There were parts I'd have to study in detail and a lot of research I'd want to do on my own, but when I finished this first read-through, I had a general idea of the situation. My friend was thorough, and he had included a list of the murder victims. I was sure his conclusions were correct on both cases, but he'd need more proof to take either case to court. This list might give me a place to start investigating.
I looked around my comfortable house and sighed as I gave up the idea of being idle for a week or so. I leaned back on the huge sofa and thought about my lifestyle. On the outside, my house looked just like the rest of the neighborhood. It wasn't in a fashionable area of town, but the location was conveniently central and the area well kept up. The inside was a different story, since half the house was underground. The safe, my study, and a huge media room were down there, as well as a small living room and one guest bedroom for emergencies. Upstairs was an unpretentious three-bedroom home in the normal one-story, stucco style common in Phoenix. Well, the kitchen wasn't quite normal. I had removed a wall or two and installed restaurant-quality appliances, because I loved to cook and enjoyed having all the gadgets to do it with. I'd designed a great place to create a meal when the mood struck me.
The entire house was furnished with beautifully-carved wooden furniture I'd had made in Mexico. The accents were colorful primary shades and bold Indian patterns. The upholstered pieces were large and comfortable. It was a good place to live. I had a couple of other houses I considered insurance in case I ever had to disappear, but this was home. I could have left Phoenix and its memories, but I'd stayed partly because John was here and also because I loved the huge conglomerate it had become as the city proper had eaten all the surrounding towns, combining them into one continuous city. It afforded endless opportunity and covered the whole spectrum of humanity. My kind of place! Sighing again and finally putting aside all thought of vacation time, I picked up the phone to call John.
The department answered on the second ring, and as always, I asked to be routed to John's office. The operator informed me that he wasn't in the office, so I asked when he'd be back. Most of the time they have a general idea how long a detective plans to be gone, but I was informed that they weren't expecting him in at all today. I knew questioning the operator wouldn't get me any information, so I hung up and called John's cell phone. Not unexpectedly, my call went directly to voice mail. He often turned his phone off when the job demanded it, so I wasn't surprised not to reach him right away. I never left a message, but when he saw my number come up as a missed call, he always called me back as soon possible. In less than ten minutes my phone rang and the screen showed John's number, but when I said, “hello,” an unknown voice said, “Who am I speaking to, please?”
I hung up immediately. The caller’s tone was unmistakably official and not a voice I recognized. Even though all my phones are protected, I wasn't about to take a chance they could pinpoint my location. Now I knew something was seriously wrong, because the number I'd called was John's personal and private phone. No one else would be answering it unless John was unable to answer or someone else had his phone. I couldn't call his superiors because I kept out of sight of the police as much as possible, and if there were trouble, they wouldn't give information to anyone other than family anyway. I immediately called John's sister, Connie. She and I weren't BFFs. We were too different, but she knew John and I were close. Before I could tell her why I called, she said, “God, Tavia, I'm glad you called! I was going to call you. John has been missing since last night. He was supposed to be here for dinner at six, but he never showed up and hasn't reported in for work this morning.”
I said, “What are the cops telling you?”
“His boss was here earlier. When John didn't report in this morning and they couldn't locate him to find out why, they were immediately concerned. At his condo they found his gun and his cell phone in the living room. There were signs of a possible fight, a few chairs turned over and such, but there wasn't any blood or evidence that anyone had been seriously hurt. They seem to think someone took him alive. That’s all they knew or at least all they were willing to tell me, but John has been acting strangely the past couple of weeks, like nervous or worried. Tell me you'll try to find out what's going on! He always says you're a better sleuth than he is, and I'm so worried, but there isn't a damn thing I can do.”
“You know I'll do what I can, Connie. Look, don't worry too much at this point because John is exceptionally good at taking care of himself. I'll let you know if I find out anything.”
“Thanks. I hoped you'd help even though John mentioned that you're mad at him. It’s a relief to know you’ll look for him. I've heard too many wild tales from John about the police to depend completely on them to find him. If there is any way I can help, just ask, and please call me as soon as you can.”