Of course. Without a doubt. Not too many jobs come around with that sort of money. It was a bit of a gold mine. And the price of gold was on the rise.
But would I risk Millie’s life to get it?
Not a chance.
Some things are worth more than money, including the life of a child. Especially the life of a child. Her wellbeing. Her happiness. Her security and health.
After five minutes of watching their house, Casey walked beside the truck and got in.
I looked at her expectantly.
“Anything?”
Casey shook her head with a despondent frown.
“Nothing. No sign of Millie, or that she’s been there in the last week. There’s a lot of kid’s tableware in the cupboards, but none of it in the almost full dishwasher. I’d say there was at least three days of dishes in the dishwasher, and not one of them was for a child. No plastic cups, no plastic forks, no plastic bowls. Millie’s bedroom was perfectly tidy, the bed was perfectly made and the house was spotless. There were no toys strewn chaotically around like you would expect with a child in the house. Clearly, she’s not keeping Millie there.”
I thought for a moment.
“If it was Kyle or Tanya at the garage two days ago, then I doubt whether they had a plan B. If their first plan had been disturbed, then Millie would be here.”
“And there was no sign of her.” Casey nodded in agreement.
“Did you hear their argument?” I asked hopefully.
“Argument?” Casey responded. “When was that?”
“I guess not,” I sighed, no such luck.
“Any trouble getting in?”
“Not at all. The backyard was enclosed, and the backdoor key was under the mat. Lax security if I ever saw it. Not that I’m complaining, it was as easy as they come.”
“Didn’t leave a trace that you were there, did you?”
Casey gave me a look that would wither a dragon.
I put my hands up in mock surrender.
“Ok, ok, of course not. Forget I asked. Anything else?”
“Not really. I took some photos.” Casey pulled out her phone and passed it across to me. “A few unpaid utility bills lying around, a large power bill, and five phone bills. Could explain the need for a quick hit of cash, but nothing to suggest they’ve done anything about it. Everything seems very, very normal. Not a sign that anything is wrong or a break from the ordinary.”
I punched the steering wheel lightly. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, damn it.
I wanted a clue, something to work off, something to build this case upon. Anything, no matter how small to get things moving and create momentum. At the moment, that all important factor seemed to have ceased.
“Do you think if Chase found out that it was Tanya, that he would press charges against her for blackmail?” Casey asked as she started sending the photos over to my phone.
“Without a doubt he would.”
“Even if it wouldn’t be in the best interests for Millie?”
I gripped the steering wheel tightly, squeezing hard into its solid and unyielding rubber until my knuckles turned white.
“Chase Martin is a prick. A prick of the highest order. He doesn’t care about Tanya one bit, and he doesn’t care about Kyle either, that’s for sure. He cares more about his precious money than getting his little girl back safe and well. Which stinks. He seemed more concerned with losing a million dollars. That’s his big worry in this whole sordid business, the bottom line. Imagine that, what a low life. There are only two true loves in Chase Martin’s life—money and himself, of course, the narcissistic slimeball. I don’t think Millie really matters, not in the way a young child does for a normal well-adjusted parent. But then Chase Martin is clearly not a well-adjusted person. I’m not saying Millie isn’t important to him, just that she’s important only up to a point, and not beyond, a bit like his favorite car—he’s fond of it, he’s even proud of it, but he’s never going to put it first in his life, and Millie’s the same.”
“Why do we even do this?” Casey shook her head, her hair falling across her face.
“Because it’s our job. We investigate. It’s what we know and it’s what we do.”
Casey looked out the window wistfully. “Sometimes I wish I was an office worker, just showing up nine-to-five, Monday to Friday.”
I gave a little laugh. “No, you don’t. And you know it. You’d hate it, even more than you’re hating this right now.”
Casey laughed too. “You’re right. I wouldn’t last a week.”
“A week! You wouldn’t even last a day. And nor would I.” I turned to Casey, serious again. “This is our job. And as much as we don’t like Chase, we’re going to see this through to the bitter end. No matter where it leads and what the outcome is.”
I started the truck and began the drive to drop Casey off at her apartment.
I had someplace to go tonight, someplace that couldn’t wait any longer.
Chapter 17
Hugh Guthrie was where I thought he would be—celebrating his win in his favorite restaurant.
The atmosphere was jovial as I walked into the Italian eatery. There was a bar to one side of the room, and twenty-five or so tables to the other side. The tables were covered with red and white patterned cloths, the chairs looked like they were bought in the seventies, and the upper walls were filled with photos of the owner and various famous customers.
I sat at the bar, ordered a bourbon, and watched Guthrie from a distance.
He was laughing, cheering. A smile as wide as the Cheshire cat.
Someone was dead, killed with his
