Michael drove to the local police office and met with Mark Chambers, the detective in charge of the missing persons case, to talk about the search of Craig's apartment the next day. When he arrived, it was just before nine o'clock, and there were still several detectives at work along with some tech types, sitting at computer terminals. The scent of burnt coffee greeted him.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked when he got to the kitchen where Chambers and another officer were standing.
"Just going over our checklist for tomorrow morning."
While Chambers made a fresh pot of coffee, he and Michael discussed the case and they went over what they already knew about the timeline. Despite having an early morning, Michael stayed late and went over the details so it would be clear in his mind the next morning. By the time he arrived back at the apartment, it was nearly one in the morning and Tess was asleep. She'd left a note on the kitchen island.
Wake me up when you get in if there's anything new you can tell me.
He felt like talking but it was already way past the time he should be asleep, so he didn't. Instead, he got ready for bed and crept into bed beside Tess, doing his best not to wake her.
She kept sleeping, and he lay awake for quite a while despite being physically tired. His mind just wouldn't let go. The double murder case up north was pretty close to where they'd found Rachel's abandoned car.
His mind fought not to join them, but it was a battle he knew he was losing. He couldn't help go back over the crime scene and the possible evidence of another child murder. Some men couldn't stand the thought that someone else might have their woman and children. Some parents couldn't face not having control over their children and killed them as a kind of revenge. A woman was at her most vulnerable when leaving a bad relationship. Some men just couldn't accept that their partner no longer loved them or wanted to be with them.
Michael didn't feel that kind of possessiveness towards Tess or Julia, but he understood it in an intellectual sense. He was more of a stoic when it came to emotions. He tried to keep everything even-keeled and not let himself get carried away with anger or happiness. Even with Tess, he tried to be sensible, although he could have let himself fall very hard for her. He knew that wouldn't be good for either of them. He wanted to be with her and no one else. She was pretty much everything he wanted in a woman. More, even.
But he wasn't going to try to possess her.
At least, he was going to fight that kind of emotion, even if he felt it now and then. He'd seen too many women and girls dead and abused because of male possessiveness to let it happen to himself.
He wanted to marry Tess, one day, after the divorce was final, and if she wanted. But they had a lot of living to do in the meantime. He had to get his life in order, go back to school and she had to go to Quantico, if she was accepted.
Maybe then.
The next day, Michael got up early and had a quick shower before leaving the apartment while Tess slept. It was just starting to get light outside and as much as he would have liked to speak with her, Tess didn't have to be in the office until much later, so he let her sleep.
He got in the car and drove through town to meet Chambers and search Craig's house, stopping at the coffee shop for his usual morning cup of takeout coffee. He pulled up to the building where Craig lived and parked his Jeep, walking over to the other officers who were standing on the front sidewalk, talking. He slipped his identity badge around his neck, showing that he was an investigator with the District Attorney's office and joined them.
Chambers turned to him and nodded. "There you are," he said, all business. "We're ready to go in."
"Lead the way," Michael said and pointed to the front entrance. "I'm just along for the ride on this one."
Chambers nodded and walked up the path to the front entrance. The building was older, built in the 60s era, and had a small entry with a panel listing all the apartments, small buttons beside each name.
Chambers buzzed the number beside Craig's name and waited, but there was no response.
"He's probably an early bird," Chambers said. He ran his finger down the list of names and came to the one marked Building Manager and buzzed.
In about twenty seconds, a man's voice came over the speaker.
"Yes?"
"It's Detective Chambers from the Seattle PD. Who am I speaking with?"
"Jeff Glover, the building manager."
"Mr. Glover, I have a warrant to search the premises of Craig Lang. He's not at home and I'd like if you could open the apartment for me."
"I'll be right down," Glover replied.
Chambers turned to them as they waited for Glover to appear. Within a couple of minutes, a middle-aged bald man exited the elevator, wearing what looked like a janitor's uniform -- dark blue, matching pants and shirt. Work boots. Sleeves rolled up like he'd been busy doing some repair work.
"Detective Chambers?" Glover said after he opened the door to the lobby, admitting the three men.
Chambers nodded and held out the search warrant, which Glover took and looked over after slipping on a pair of reading glasses.
"You arresting him because of Rachel?"
"This is just a warrant to search his apartment and take possession of his electronics. It's not an arrest warrant." Chambers stated.
Glover nodded and motioned for the three men to follow him. They followed Glover down to an apartment at the end of the hallway. Glover pulled out a ring of keys that was attached to his belt and opened the door to Craig's apartment. He held the door open.
"Be my guest."
Chambers nodded and the three went inside. Michael slipped on his protective gloves and watched as the other two police officers did as well.
"We'll let you know when we're finished," Chambers said.
"I'm on my pager. Got a sink to fix. Here's my number," he said and handed Chambers a business card.
"Thanks."
They went inside and divided up the apartment, each person taking one room and going through, looking for evidence that might be relevant.
Michael went into the bedroom first. He searched a large chest of drawers in the corner. Half the drawers were empty, and he assumed they had once been used by Rachel. When he was finished, he went to the bedside table and opened the drawer, seeing a box of condoms and a tube of lube. There was also a small manual alarm clock and a couple of containers of baby wipes. He next went to the closet and searched the boxes on the top shelf, looking for anything that might be pertinent. Just old photos from what looked like Craig's past, faded Polaroids of an older couple and children playing in a park. Backyard barbecues. Christmas scenes with kids sitting around the tree, opening presents.
Nothing suspicious. Just pictures like he'd find in his own closet and photo albums.
"Got the laptop," Chambers called out from another room. Michael left the bedroom with nothing in his hands and went to another bedroom where Chambers was standing over a desk. He was wrapping up a power cord and slipping the computer and cord into a large brown paper bag.
"I guess he uses this as a darkroom," Chambers said, pointing to the black paper on the windows. There was a large rubber strip that went around the door, to prevent light from seeping inside. On a table against one wall was a series of trays, used to process print photographs and a projector that created the images. Craig still processed his photos by hand using chemical processing. Some of them had been included in displays at local art galleries.
Michael checked out the bookshelf, but there was nothing suspicious. Just books on photography and history of old Seattle and the mountains. Old cameras and lenses were stacked on the shelves. Craig seemed to be a collector.
Chambers was rifling through a filing cabinet, flipping through files.
"This is interesting," he said and gestured for Michael to come over. "A nude woman in various suggestive poses."
"Looks more artistic than pornographic to me," Michael replied. "Like something you'd find in the 19th Century. Not very explicit."
"I guess you're right," Chambers replied. "I'll keep looking. Maybe they get more explicit."
In the end, after a solid hour going through the apartment, they left with nothing much in the way of evidence. The search warrant was pretty narrow and focused only on electronics and any other evidence that might be linked to the disappearance.
All they had was an apartment that looked like a woman had decorated it and signs of a man who had fallen apart in her absence. At least, that was how Michael saw it. The sofa was covered in old newspapers and the coffee table was littered with empty takeout food containers. A pizza box sat open on the stove, a few crusts remaining. Dirty clothes were piled in the bathroom on the floor -- men's clothing. Dirty dishes in the sink. The garbage was overflowing. The bed unmade. Otherwise, the place was pretty ordinary.
It appeared that Craig stopped looking after himself and the apartment when Rachel disappeared.
The crime scene techs were busy collecting fingerprints and hair samples, dusting doorknobs and other surfaces. It wasn't a crime scene, but there might be something found that helped them understand what happened.
If there was a smoking gun, they didn't find it.