'This is going to take some getting used to, Kincaid, after seven years
of MCT work with O'Donnell.'
I didn't react to the mention of my predecessor. 'Just doing my part
to lead you down the path of enlightenment, Ray. Clarissa
Easterbrook's an administrative law judge, not some bored housewife.'
'Oh, so it's only women lawyers who excel beyond malls and gossip. Got
it. Note to all detectives,' he said, as if he were speaking into a
dictation recorder, 'the new Major Crimes Unit DA says it's still OK to
diss housewives.' He dropped the routine and cocked a finger at me.
'Busted!'
There was no arguing it, so I laughed instead. 'Who's in the back?' I
asked, leaning my head toward the ongoing murmurs.
'Walker's back there with the husband and the sister. We got here
about half an hour ago, and the sister showed up right after. We
haven't been able to do much more than try to calm them down. We need
to start working on the timeline, though. I stayed out here to wait
for you. I suspect Dr. Easterbrook's still getting used to having a
brother in the house.'
It was unusual to have MCT involved so early in a missing persons case,
but Walker and Johnson were here from the bureaus Major Crimes Team for
the same reason I was: to make sure that our offices looked responsive
and concerned when the missing judge showed up and to triple-check that
the investigation was perfect, just in case she didn't.
'Sounds good. I'll do my part for the family and any press, but for
now you guys take the lead on interviews.'
'Music to my ears, Kincaid.'
He began walking toward the back of the house, but I stopped him with a
hand on his elbow. 'I assume you're keeping things gentle for now,
just in case. And absolutely no searches, not even with consent.' If
Clarissa Easterbrook had encountered anything criminal, everyone close
to her would become a suspect, especially her husband. We couldn't do
anything now that might jeopardize our investigation down the road.
'I should've known it was too good to be true. All DAs just got to
have their say. It's in the blood.' I could tell from his smile that
he wasn't annoyed. 'No worries, now.'
We made our way to the kitchen, walking past a built-in rock fountain
that served as a room divider. The Easterbrooks had sprung for marble
countertops and stainless steel, Sub-Zero everything, but it looked
like no one ever cooked here. In fact, as far as I could tell, no one
even lived here. The only hint of disorder was in a corner of the
kitchen, where the contents of a canvas book bag were spread out on the
counter next to a frazzled-looking brunette. She had a cell phone to
one ear and an index finger in the other.
Jack Walker greeted us. With his short sleeves, striped tie, and bald
head, he had enough of the cop look going to make up for his partner.
'Welcome back. You look great,' he said into my ear as he shook my
hand with a friendly squeeze. 'Dr. Easterbrook, this is Deputy
District Attorney Samantha Kincaid.'
There are women who would describe Townsend Easterbrook as
good-looking. His brown hair was worn just long enough and with just
enough gray at the temples to suggest a lack of attention to
appearance, but the Brooks Brothers clothes told another story. On the
spectrum between sloppy apathetic and sloppy preppy, there was no
question where this man fell.
He seemed alarmed by the introduction. At first I assumed he was
nervous. I quickly realized it was something else entirely.
'Please, call me Townsend. Gosh, I apologize if I was staring. I
recognized you from the news, but it took me a moment to draw the
connection.'
It hadn't dawned on me that, at least for the foreseeable future,
former strangers would know me as the local Annie Oakley. One more
daily annoyance. Terrific.
'I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Dr. East-erbrook.
Duncan had to be in Salem tonight, but he wanted me to assure you that
our office will do everything within our power to help find your
wife.'
When Griffith called, he had insisted that I use his first name with
the family and assure Dr. Easterbrook that he would have been here
personally if he weren't locked in legislative hearings. Other missing
people might disappear with little or no official response, but Dr.
Easterbrook's phone call to 911 had ripped like a lightning bolt
through the power echelon. The wife was sure to turn up, but this was
Griffith's chance to say I feel your pain.
And Easterbrook clearly was in pain. 'Thank you for coming so
quickly,' he said, his voice shaking. 'I feel foolish now that you're
all here, but we weren't sure what we should be doing. Clarissa's
sister and I have been calling everyone we can possibly think of.'
'That's your sister-in-law?' I asked, looking toward the woman in the
corner, still clutching the phone.
'Yes. Tara. She came in from The Dalles. I called her earlier to see
if she'd heard from Clarissa today. Then I called her again when I saw
that our dog, Griffey, was gone, too.'
Walker tapped the pocket-size notebook he held in his hand with a
dainty gold pen that didn't suit him. Most likely a gift from one of
his six daughters, it looked tiny between his sausage fingers. 'Dr.
Easterbrook was just telling me he got home from the hospital at
six-thirty tonight. His wife was home when he left this morning at
six.'
A twelve-hour day probably wasn't unusual for the attending surgeon at
Oregon Health Sciences University's teaching hospital, even on a
Sunday. Looking at him now, though, it was hard to imagine him
steadying a scalpel just four hours ago.
Easterbrook continued where he must have left off. 'She was still in
bed when I left. Sort of awake but still asleep.' He was staring
blankly in front of him, probably remembering how cute his wife is when
she is sleepy. 'She hadn't mentioned any plans, so when I got home and
she wasn't here, I assumed she went out to the market. We usually have
dinner in on Sundays, as long as I'm home.'
'You've checked for her car,' Walker said. It was more of a statement
