“Pretty quiet, Detective Plummer,” the guy replies airily.
“Hrumph,” Jake mutters as we continue deeper into the building in search of the watch commander. We find him at a desk, sitting amid a mountain of paper, a half-filled paper coffee cup, and a half-empty polycarbonate package of grocery-store miniature cinnamon doughnuts.
“I hear it’s a quiet morning around here, huh?” Jake asks.
The sergeant appears pleased about it when he smiles and nods.
“Quiet night, too?” Jake continues. “Night shift didn’t leave anything pressing for you guys to work?”
“Nope.”
Jake angrily relates what he knows about the disappearance of Brittany and Bobby. “This case better not end up on my desk because you guys have been fucking the dog while a couple of kids are unaccounted for.”
The sergeant’s nostrils flare. “I didn’t know,” he retorts indignantly.
Jake is stone-faced as he stares back. After giving the sergeant a moment to think things through, he asks, “You were unaware that these kids are missing, or you’re just incurious?” His tone makes clear that he considers neither answer acceptable.
The sergeant finally looks a little chagrined.
Jake tilts his head my way. “Meet Tony Valenti, the father of the missing girl. Perhaps one of your not-so-busy people can find a few minutes to help Mr. Valenti locate his daughter?”
After muttering a half-assed apology, the sergeant gets to work. I furnish more information and email him a recent picture of Brittany.
“What about Brittany’s mother?” Jake asks after we finish and walk to the squad room and settle at his desk.
My shoulders sag at the mention of Michelle. “What about her?”
“Has she heard from Brittany?”
“If so, I would have heard from her.”
“You haven’t called?”
I shake my head. “She’s angling for full custody. If something bad has happened, she won’t know any more than I do, but she’ll complicate things for everyone. I’ll call if and when I have news.”
Jake doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t argue. I’m not entirely sure I’m doing the right thing where Michelle is concerned, but I honestly can’t see how involving her will help things. If Brittany and Bobby have sneaked off to be together, there’ll be plenty of time to bring Michelle into the mix once the dust settles. If something else is going on, Michelle (and inevitably her father) will go on the warpath to use our daughter’s misfortune to slam me and advance her argument for full custody. Maybe I’m being selfish, I don’t know, but this seems like the right approach at the moment.
I sit at Jake’s desk and drink coffee while he works and the shift supervisor does whatever it is he needs to do. The desk sergeant calls an hour later to inform Jake that the missing person report is done and circulating.
It’s time for me to go. “Thanks, Jake.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what we’re supposed to be here for,” he mutters angrily. “You get back to the house and hold tight. I asked the watch commander to have a patrol car roll by periodically.”
“Thanks.” Do I mention Joe? I feel immensely guilty that I’m holding out on Jake. He’s trustworthy and would probably know how to keep things on the q.t., but imagining Joe’s reaction to my telling the cops about our visit has me spooked. For some reason—quite possibly simple stupidity—I decide not to.
Jake peers up at me. “You got a gun yet?”
I shake my head no.
“Right, the famous Valenti firearm prohibition shtick,” he scoffs. “Get yourself a fucking gun, Tony.”
I wish to hell I had a gun when I walk into my living room and again find Joe camped out in Papa’s La-Z-Boy. He’s brought a couple of friends this morning. Big friends—even larger than himself. Maybe the gun isn’t such a good idea. I’m pretty sure I know who would come out on the wrong end of a shootout at the Valenti Corral.
“Where have you been?” Joe asks while he points at Mama’s chair. “We’ve been here for a couple of hours.”
“Just a little visit with the Cedar Heights PD,” I reply, figuring I might as well get that on the table right away.
Joe’s eyes narrow. “I hope you didn’t mention our little get-together?”
I shake my head no as I sit and again wonder why I hadn’t. At the moment, it seems like an especially dumb move—even for me.
Joe smiles. “Glad to hear that, Mr. Valenti. It’s too late for cops now, anyway.”
An icicle of fear gnaws its way into my heart. Why would he say that? There’s only one reason that immediately comes to mind. I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, towering above Joe. “If anything happens to her—”
“Sit, Mr. Valenti!” he snaps as he pulls a handgun out of his lap and waves it lazily in my direction. The goons, who have been hanging back in the corners of the room, take a couple of steps in my direction.
Me with a gun seems even more ill advised. Having one would have just gotten me shot.
“Sit,” Joe repeats firmly as he stares up at me with the gun now centered squarely on my chest.
I sink back into my seat and glare at the prick who seems to have orchestrated my daughter’s disappearance.
“That’s better,” Joe says easily while the goons melt back into their corners. Then he settles back in the seat, folds his arms across his chest, and examines me for a long moment. “Did you file a missing person report?”
I decide to tell part of the truth and hope he’s none the wiser. “Not personally. A friend did so last night without me knowing. Bobby Harland’s parents have filed one, as well.”
Joe’s scowl lets me know that he doesn’t like this revelation. “Meaning their faces
