21
Georgia College Student Center
Friday, April 13, 7:15 a.m.
“You do realize this is stalking,” Joanna pointed out.
“Which is why I need you to talk to them.” Tony shrugged. “You’re a reporter. That’s what reporters do, right?”
He’d located—stalked, if you wanted to define his methods that way—Vickie Parton’s roommate, Sadie Hall, and her closest friend, Marla Franks. The two were seated in one of the many study niches in the Student Center, huddled over their notebooks, discarded food wrappers and empty coffee cups scattered over the table.
Joanna folded her arms over her chest. “What would you have me say to them?”
She’d basically avoided participating in any conversation with him since she rolled out of bed. As if she still didn’t want to speak directly to him or didn’t trust him to do it right, she’d even leaned over the console and shouted her order out the window at the drive-through where he’d stopped for breakfast. Beyond that she hadn’t said a word. He’d kept his questions to himself but only for now. At some point he would know whatever it was she was hiding. This morning’s priority was Tiffany. He needed to make some sort of progress on her case. At this point, unless the chief was holding out on him, they still had not one fucking thing. Completely unacceptable.
Annoyed at her lack of cooperation, he offered, “You can start with, was Vickie Parton seeing anyone before she disappeared? According to Phelps, she wasn’t. Had she been ill? Was she on good terms with her family? Was there anything that made those close to her feel she might want to disappear?”
“I’m pretty sure you can rule out that last theory, Agent LeDoux.”
Her sarcasm wasn’t helping his patience this morning. “We both know this but we need to know if they know it. We need their opinions and theories. Did they know Tiffany Durand? Did Vickie and Tiffany have anything in common? Play the part of reporter. Most witnesses get excited by the prospect of having their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Got it.” She stood. “Then you’ll owe me one.”
“I thought this was a mutually advantageous relationship?”
She didn’t answer, just walked over to the group of freshmen, including Parton’s roommate. If she helped find his niece alive he’d give her anything he possessed the power to give—which wasn’t a hell of a lot at this point. His ex-wife had taken most of his negotiable assets.
Joanna wore dark pants and a lightweight sweater. The blue shade looked good with her olive skin and blond hair. Something had changed in their relationship—if you could even technically call it a relationship. More like an understanding. An understanding he wasn’t entirely convinced he understood. Whatever it was, things had shifted after Conway was found.
He thought of the chief’s call about the single blond hair found at the scene. Finding only a single hair always made Tony suspicious. If two people had rowdy sex the likelihood of shedding only one hair was not exactly overwhelming. It felt more like a piece of planted evidence.
Speaking of blond hair, today he and his pseudo partner would do all within their power to track down Hailey Martin wherever she was hiding. His primary concern was that whoever killed Conway would find Martin before they did. He needed Hailey Martin—Madelyn Houser. If she and Conway had abducted Tiffany and Vickie and stashed them away for some unknown purpose, the stakes went way, way up with Conway’s murder. If Martin ended up dead, they might not be able to find the girls before it was too late.
His cell vibrated and he checked the screen. Angie.
“Hey.” He kept an eye on Joanna as he listened to his sister.
“They’ve moved the press conference up to nine. I need you there, Tony.”
His sister’s voice sounded shaky. Understandable. She was terrified. Her only child was missing and now the powers that be wanted her to go on stage and perform for all the world to see. Plead with some unknown piece of shit for her daughter’s life.
“You don’t need me there. My presence will only distract the focus. We need every reporter in the room as well as every viewer watching focused on you and Mrs. Parton.”
She drew in an unsteady breath. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Angie, you’re the strongest woman I know.” His errant gaze flicked back to the woman chatting with the two college girls. Joanna Guthrie was another strong woman. But she was also keeping secrets. “You can do this. You’ll be strong for Tiffany.”
“In a few hours it’ll be a week—” Ang’s voice cracked “—since anyone saw her. Don’t tell me you’re not worried she isn’t coming back.”
“I’m not worried,” Tony lied. “She’s alive and we’re going to find her and bring her home.”
Another deep shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t let me down. I’m just terrified I’ll do something wrong and find out later I could have made a difference if I’d done things differently.”
Normal reaction. “You’re doing exactly what you should be doing. Trust yourself. Trust your instincts. You brought Tif into this world. You and Steve raised an amazing young woman. You’ll do this part right, too.”
“I know,” she conceded. “You’re right. You stay focused on the investigation. I’ll take care of this press conference. Steve will be standing right beside me.”
“Good. Love you.”
“Love you. Wait. What about Joanna? You didn’t tell me if you confirmed her story.”
“I did. And if Tiffany was taken by the same people who took Joanna all those years ago that’s another point on our side. She and the other girl survived. So did all the others in the cases she’s followed all these years. We have every reason to be hopeful.”
“I’m holding you to that, Tony.”
“I’ve got this, Ang.”
His sister let it go there. He tucked the phone into his jacket pocket and glanced back to the table where Joanna and the girls were talking.
They were gone.
He shot to his feet and surveyed the dozens of faces crowded into niches and around tables. How the hell had he allowed his attention to wander?
Can’t be on your A game, pal, if you drink yourself into oblivion every night.
His cell vibrated. He dragged it out and glanced at the screen.
Headed to Parkhurst Hall. Room 207. Catch up.
Joanna. Tony didn’t bother going for his BMW. He needed to burn off some of this tension anyway. He didn’t break into an outright run but he walked faster than he had in he couldn’t remember how long. Across the campus until he reached Greene Street, then a short stretch to the freshman dormitory. The entry door had been left propped open.
“Smart move, ladies.” He imagined students left doors unsecured all too often. He remembered doing the same thing, especially if a party was planned, back in his college days. He hoped his niece was being a lot smarter than he had been.
Rather than wait for the elevator he barreled up the stairs.
Once in the corridor on the second floor he slowed to catch his breath. He smoothed a hand over his hair and straightened his jacket. The door to room 207 was open. He stood in the open doorway and waited to be noticed before entering.
Sadie Hall spotted him first. Her eyes rounded and she said, “Is this your friend?”
Joanna turned around. “Yes. He’s a research analyst for my producer. He used to be a profiler for the FBI.”
Both Sadie and Marla appeared duly impressed.
“Tony will have a look around while we finish the interview.”
The girls were only too happy to ignore him in order to focus on their chance for the spotlight. The sound of Joanna’s low, steady voice along with the higher-pitched excited tones of the students filled the room as he took his time examining the place.
Vickie Parton’s closet looked much like Tiffany’s. The clothes were considerably more conservative. There were far fewer shoes and only one handbag. He had a look in the drawers of the small chest, then moved on to the bed. On the night table the Bible sat front and center. Tony picked it up and fanned through the pages. No bookmark, no notes. He checked the drawers of the table. In the bottom one far in the back beneath a handful of chocolate candy was a packet of birth control pills.
Like Tiffany’s, pills were missing through Friday of last week. The packaging looked the same. The drugstore they’d chosen was the same one. The address told him it was near the campus. The prescribing doctor’s name looked vaguely familiar. Tony pulled out his cell and reviewed the photos he’d taken in Tiffany’s room.
Ima Alexander.
Same doctor. At least it was a connection. Thin, but a place to look they hadn’t had before.
“Question,” he said to the two students still deep in conversation with Joanna.
All eyes shifted to him.
“Do either of you use this Dr. Alexander?”
Hall said, “She’s at the clinic over on North Glynn Street. It’s a walk-in clinic. A lot of the students go there because it’s quick and easy—especially since most of us don’t have a personal physician here. And they don’t ask as many personal questions. Dr. Alexander is the only doctor there, I think. There’s a nurse-practitioner on Mondays and Fridays. Most of the time there’s a couple nurses and that’s about it. They’re seriously overworked but always nice.”
“I’ve been,” the other girl volunteered. “I twisted my ankle really badly and didn’t want to go to the infirmary so I went over to the clinic. They x-rayed my ankle. Nothing was broken thankfully. They gave me a ten-day supply of pain meds and an Ace bandage.”
Tony figured the pain meds were the nice part Sadie Hall meant. Pain meds for a sprained ankle sounded a little overboard to him, but then he knew the statistics on the rampant abuse of prescription painkillers.
“They are pretty nice there,” Sadie confirmed. “More understanding.”
“Thank you for your time, ladies,” he said. With a knowing look toward Joanna, he headed for the door.
“Thanks, girls. I’ll be back with follow-up questions and the air date.”
Joanna walked out behind him.
When they were in the stairwell going down, he said, “I hate to ask what you promised them.”
“Then don’t.”
North Glynn Street, 9:00 a.m.
The clinic had seen better days. The old brick building appeared to have once been a private residence. The front yard had been paved for patient parking. Across the street was a church. The clinic was only a few miles from the campus but far enough away to give some semblance of privacy, as the students noted. Tony parked in the lot and shut off the engine.
“You don’t really expect them to tell you anything, do you?” Joanna stared at the clinic. “I hear doctors take the whole HIPAA thing rather seriously.”
He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to learn. Mostly he wanted to watch reactions. He turned to his passenger. “You seem like a reasonably good actress. With your younger sister missing, it’s only natural that you’d have a panic attack.”
She reached for the door. “I’ve given a few award-winning performances in my time.”
Before he’d rounded the hood she had started breathing shallow and fast. She put her hand to her chest and presented a credible expression of fear. With his hand resting at the small of her back he walked her to the door. By then she was full blown hyperventilating.
He opened the entry door and murmured as she went in ahead of him. “I think I might actually be worried.”
She hiccuped. “Oh, I don’t like this.”
Tony led her to the registration desk where she did, in fact, put on an award-winning performance. So much so, they didn’t even make her wait to fill out the usual paperwork. The receptionist thrust the clipboard at Tony since the patient had named him as her husband.
A nurse immediately hustled them to an exam room. As Tony filled in the patient’s name as Rita Durand Gates along with a host of other fictitious info, the nurse determined that the patient’s blood pressure was inordinately high. An EKG was in order since his lovely wife also complained of chest pains.
While the nurse rigged Joanna up for the EKG, the doctor arrived. Petite, dark hair and eyes, Asian features. “Why didn’t you go to the ER?”
Clearly she was put out by the potential emergency. “We were headed that way,” Tony explained, “but we saw the clinic and my wife insisted on stopping here. She’s had panic attacks before so I wasn’t all that worried.”
“Who’s your family physician, Mrs. Gates?”
“We’re...from...out...of...town,” Joanna said between gasps.
“We’re here because her younger sister is missing. Tiffany Durand,” Tony explained. “You probably heard about it on the news.”
The doctor stared at Tony for a moment, then looked back to the patient. “I’m so sorry to hear this. Can you breathe more slowly, Mrs. Gates? Deep and slow.”
Alexander tucked the stethoscope earpieces into place and positioned the diaphragm on Joanna’s chest. Joanna abruptly stopped breathing or at least stopped gasping. Tony leaned to see past the doctor. Joanna stared, wide-eyed and unmoving, at the other woman.
Was she purposely not gasping anymore?
Joanna bolted upright. “I feel fine now.” She started to yank EKG wires off her chest. “I just need to get back to the hotel and lie down.”
The doctor stared at her, surprise or shock or something on that order on her face.
Joanna hopped off the exam table and rushed from the room, yanking her sweater down as she went.
“I apologize for my wife,” Tony said, hoping to salvage the moment. He had no idea what just happened. “As you can imagine she’s very upset. It’s been a week and her sister is still missing.”
“It’s a terrible situation.” Alexander hung the stethoscope around her neck. “I’m afraid I don’t really know much about it—other than what I’ve seen on the news.”
“Tiffany was a patient of yours,” Tony said. “You prescribed her birth control.”
“I have other patients, Mr. Gates.”
The doctor rushed from the room. The nurse shrugged. “It’s been that kind of day. I was really sorry to hear about Tiffany and Vickie. They’re both really nice girls.” She smiled. “Nicer than most.”
Tony smiled sadly. “Thank you for telling me that. We’re so worried that Tiffany met some guy who’s taken advantage of her.”
The nurse, Renae, nodded. “They were both here at the beginning of the month for physicals. Neither was—” she lowered her voice “—sexually active. At least they insisted they weren’t—but Dr. Alexander likes to urge the girls to take precautions.”
Tony grabbed the nurse and hugged her. “Thank you.” He dug in his pocket for one of his business cards. Plain white with only his name and cell number printed on the front. He placed it in her hand. “Please call me if you think of anything that might help us find the girls.”
The nurse nodded. “Sure.”
As Tony headed for the door, she said, “Didn’t you say your name is Gates?”
Tony glanced back at her, pressing a finger to his lips. “That’s my stage name. I’m an actor. Gates is my real name.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and she grinned. “I thought you looked familiar.” She pressed a finger to her lips as if trying to place his face. She shook her head. “I can’t think of the movie, but it’ll come to me.”
Tony flashed her a wink and hurried out of the building. Joanna was already in the car, seat belt fastened.
As soon as he dropped behind the wheel, she said, “I need to get away from this place.”
“You recognized her.” He backed out of the slot and put the BMW in Drive.
“More important—” Joanna blew out a breath and nodded toward the clinic where the slats of a blind abruptly fell back into place “—she recognized me.”