“Good evening, Special Inspector. How can I help you?” she asked.
“Has Trooper Jones called into the station tonight … for anything?”
“Not since I came on at three,” she reported. She reached up and touched a few tabs on the hologram in front of her. It shows here that she signed out of her tour at 1600 hours, sir. Nothing after that.”
“Can you get a ten-twenty on her PDC?” he asked, as his handsome face darkened even more, the worry gnawing at his gut, the acid churning like a stormy sea. In his heart, he already knew the answer but had to ask.
“Nothing is showing, sir. She must’ve turned it off.”
No way. Not Stella! She was an “I-dotter” and a “t-crosser.” She never turned her PDC off and was almost obsessive about keeping the battery charged. She was always checking his to make sure his was adequately charged as well.
Mickles’ next words came as quite a shock, “Sir, she should be at home.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, trying to keep his composure. Since he was standing in Stella’s apartment at that very moment, the comment caught him completely off-guard. “What makes you say that?”
“I just pinged the tracking beacon on her black-and-white, and it indicates it’s been in the parking deck of the Saturn Towers complex where she lives since approximately 4:15, sir.”
“Oh … ok. Uh, well, it’s probably nothing then. Thanks, Sarge.” Matt disconnected, dazed by this new revelation. He felt the blood drain from his face and fought the panic that now pounded away inside his brain, screaming for him to run for the door. She’s here! At least, she was at one time. Yet there was no sign she’d ever entered her apartment. The windows were still un-tinted. The first thing she did when she came home was darken the tint, allowing her to walk around inside in whatever state of undress she pleased. She might be … or have been … on the premises, but she never made it to her apartment.
His analytical mind fought with his fears and emotions. Investigate before you go nuclear! Don’t jump to conclusions! You’re a cop! His common sense told him there could be several explanations for this. She could’ve stopped by a girlfriend’s apartment in the complex for a short visit. After all, things had been tense between them earlier that afternoon, and they had never really nailed down anything definite for this evening. He figured he’d just show up, surprise her with an apology and a little humility. Looking back now, maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas. Perhaps he should’ve done that a little sooner, maybe even stopped off and got some flowers. It didn’t matter now, but it was funny how such oversights seemed magnified at a time like this.
An even more unsavory possibility the cop part of him forced him to consider was that Stella might not want to be found. Saturn Towers was one of the most sought-after complexes for twenty-something singles in Huntsville. Maybe he wasn’t the only man Stella was seeing. Perhaps she had a gal on the side. Even though it might be a devastating blow to his masculine ego, it wasn’t an outlandish notion. She was an independent woman; he knew her well enough to know that included her sexuality. It had always been something he’d enjoyed about her, but he also knew it was a double-edged sword. Her carefree side in bed was refreshing and arousing, but deep down, a part of him feared it. Especially since he never would commit and always stressed the importance of hiding their relationship down at the Precinct. Such a lack of commitment would surely come around to haunt him one day.
Had that day come?
He was still pondering these worrisome thoughts as he stepped into the elevator to ride down to the parking deck where Stella’s Mark III was stored. Maybe, just maybe, it might shed some light on the mystery of Stella’s whereabouts. He prayed fervently it would.
One thing he was sure of: when he did find her, he would resolve to set things right. He would not only apologize, but he would also tell her how he truly felt about her … and them. His divorce negotiations were moving along smoothly. Hopefully, he’d be a free man soon. The attorneys had ironed out the child support and alimony. There were just a few details to be worked out as far as equity in the house and some other monetary issues. Once that was done, and the divorce was finalized, they would no longer have to worry about hiding.
All those good intentions turned to sour, muddy muck in his stomach when the elevator reached the parking level. He’d been so preoccupied with Stella's disappearance, he’d hardly paid any attention to anything going on around him. It was only by chance, as he was leaving the elevator that he happened to look up and see the nasty gash in the polished metal surface of the corner of the car’s wall. A gash that looked suspiciously like a laser pistol had been fired inside the car.
His heart sank as he moved closer to inspect it. Like most ZiPs, Stella carried the regulation LightBearer 2000i laser pistol with a built-in self-charger. A weapon of political correctness, it had plenty of knockdown power but wasn’t as lethal as a railgun or pulse rifle, both of which not only killed but caused extensive damage in doing so. Only SWAT team members or other Special Ops units were issued those weapons.
He ran his hand across the nasty little tear in the hybristeel. Putting a finger to his nose, he could smell the freshly-superheated polymers. This shot had been fired in the last two hours.
Now, he could panic!
He bolted from the elevator, not knowing where he was going. He just had to get out. He ran into the parking deck, spinning around anxiously as if looking for direction or guidance. Maybe he expected to see Stella or
