CHAPTER 62 - Rita

CHAPTER 62RitaCHASE IS OFF THIS MORNING, BUT JOE AND AGENT METZ MEET ME AT the station. I’ve got hazelnut muffins that André made, and Joe brought coffees. Work sometimes feels awfully civil even when we’re dealing with the worst of humanity. It’s a strange balance that ultimately unnerves some people and sends them skittering for work outside of law enforcement, like my ex-husband, Ed. Four and a half years on the force, and he was done.We sit in the conference room, where we can spread out. I’ve drawn a red line through Dr. Bradley’s name on the Robb suspect list. Don’t know that everyone agrees with me, but I’m making a statement by eliminating him. We need to do a deeper dive on the four remaining suspects. We’re still hopeful that there’s DNA somewhere that will point the finger at one of them, but until then, all we have is old-fashioned police work.My phone vibrates, dances across the table, drawing my concentration from the notes I was rereading. I don’t recognize the number but answer anyway. “Detective Myers.”“Is this Detective Myers?” a weak voice asks. Didn’t I just say that?“Speaking. How can I help you?”“This is Gladys Murray, Detective.”“Yes.” The old lady who lives next door to the Bradleys.“I think something might be wrong here.” I put my phone on speaker, glance at Joe, whose dark eyes meet mine.“What’s happened?”“Well, Percy went to our front door and started scratching a while ago, and he never does that. When I opened the door, Sadie was standing there.”“Who’s Sadie?”“Mrs. Bradley’s dog. She had her leash on, and I thought she got away from Mrs. Bradley. She walks her by the house a couple times a day, but it was really early, not when she usually goes by. Anyway, Percy and I took Sadie over to the house. Mrs. Bradley’s car’s in the driveway. I rang the bell several times, knocked, but no one answered. She seems to take good care of her dog, Detective. I don’t think she’d let her loose like that on purpose. You suppose something’s not right?”“We’re on the way, Mrs. Murray.” Joe and Agent Metz start to gather their things.“I’ve got Sadie here with me.”“That’s great. We’ll be there shortly.” I disconnect the call. Throw my phone in my satchel.Joe drives, and I call Corrine Alworth on the way over.“You don’t know where she is?” I ask.“She should be home,” Mrs. Alworth says. “The neighbor found her dog wandering?”“That’s what she said, and no one answered the door when she knocked.”Mrs. Alworth blows out a ragged breath. “I talked to her yesterday. She was going to a party at her friend’s house, then she was staying home for the night. Where could she be?” Her frustration and fear burst through in her words.“Whose party?”“Kim Pearson’s.”“Who else was there?”“Her regular group, I think.”“Okay. We’re on our way to her house now to check it out. Call if you hear from her.” Now I’m starting to sweat. Did we take the harassing phone calls seriously enough, especially with all that’s gone on? Shit. I direct Joe to turn at the light, and we’re heading down the Bradleys’ street.I try Mrs. Bradley’s cell and landline again, but no answer again.Mrs. Murray, flanked by the two dogs, stands on her porch, leans over the rail to watch us as we knock on Mrs. Bradley’s door. Agent Metz and Joe circle the house, but soon return to the front.“Anything?” I ask.“Looks locked up, undisturbed,” Joe says.“Christ.” We turn and look up the street as if Mrs. Bradley might come walking down the road. Maybe she will, but my gut tells me otherwise. There’s an emptiness at the house, as though it’s been abandoned. We walk over to talk to Mrs. Murray, and she verifies that Mrs. Bradley walks her dog no earlier than nine a.m., and it’s barely seven-thirty. We also see that the dog is gentle, easily handled; it’s not likely she would’ve pulled away from Mrs. Bradley and run off.Joe drops down on his haunches, pets the dog, and examines her paws. “Looks like she might’ve been out a while,” he says, standing. “Her feet are pretty muddy, and”—he runs a hand over her back—“her coat’s pretty wet, like she might’ve been lying in the snow. How long has the dog been here?”Mrs. Murray looks at her watch. “I called right away after we got back from Mrs. Bradley’s place, so not long. Do you think something’s happened to her?”I shake my head. “We don’t know. Where does she walk when she goes by your house? Which direction?”“Well.” Mrs. Murray wrings her hands, anxious to help. “She walks up toward the corner, most days. That’s what I’ve noticed anyway.”“Toward the gas station?”“Yes.” She points a skinny, knotted hand. “Up that way, toward the intersection.”“When does she usually walk the dog?”“I see her morning and evening most days when I’m around.”“What time in the evenings?”“About dinnertime, I guess.”“Did you see her last evening?”“I’m afraid I didn’t. I’m not always in the front room where I can see her, Detective,” Mrs. Murray says, as if she’s failed in her duties somehow“That’s fine. We appreciate your help.” We start down the stairs.“I’ll keep Sadie here with me if that’s all right,” she calls behind us.“That would be a big help,” I say. We take off at a brisk pace, following the path we hope Mrs. Bradley took.“Alison, would you see if the Fergusons are home?” I point to the gray house next to Mrs. Murray’s. “They have a security camera. See if they’ve got Mrs. Bradley on tape walking by.”“Sure.” Agent Metz peels off and heads up the porch steps.Joe and I continue up the sidewalk. Traffic is picking up, horns honking in the distance, engines rumbling as cars file past, leaving exhaust in their wake. The traffic light up ahead cycles through yellow to red to green. A moist bitter wind picks up, and I wish I’d remembered my gloves.The gas station is busy, people streaming in and out. Dirty snow lies in piles along the edges of the parking lot. The young man at the counter is wearing a reflective vest over a lumpy hoodie and a knit cap pulled low over his ears.I show him my badge and identify us. “When did you start your shift?” I ask.“Five. Is there a problem?” His lips are chapped, nose runny from the cold.“No. Just looking for a woman walking a dog.” I take out Mrs. Bradley’s picture and show it to the kid. He takes a good look.“I don’t remember seeing her.”“She’d have had a black dog with her.”He shakes his head.“Can we take a look at your video?”“Boss is in the office.” He tips his head. We walk down a short hall past stacked cases of soda and rap on a half-open door.Mr. Armini is a short man with dark hair sprouting from the sides of his head, nothing on top. His forehead is a mass of horizontal wrinkles. He listens and pulls up the tape.Luckily, he’s agreeable. We’ve helped him out a time or two with unruly customers. We view the tape quickly. Nothing this morning, so we back it up to last night, and there she is, perusing the snack aisle. At six thirty-four, she’s paying for her items at the counter. She looks fine, not like anything is amiss. The dog sits placidly at her side. Then they leave and head across the parking lot toward home.We canvass the outside of the store. There’s a bit of an alley behind it, but we don’t find anything but some debris, Styrofoam cups, and a few plastic bags blown against the back wall of the gas station.I stomp around, trying to collect my thoughts, shiver in the cold. I reach into my satchel, pull out my phone, and call Mrs. Bradley again—and bingo!We hear it. Joe and I march steadily toward the sound, pull up at a dumpster.“Shit.”I call the station and request a forensics team.* * *After two hours of searching, Mrs. Bradley’s phone and wallet are found, but no trace of the woman herself. So Joe and I head back to the station to regroup while the team completes their work.Bob meets us in the conference room, and we brief him on our findings.“Shit,” he says, and rubs his face with a big meaty hand.That about sums it up, I think to myself.Agent Metz has returned from talking to the Fergusons. Their surveillance tape shows Mrs. Bradley walking by last evening, but nothing after that, which confirms what we suspected. She disappeared on her way home from her walk.Corrine Alworth comes tearing into the station and bursts into the conference room, leaving the officer who was escorting her in her wake.“Did you find anything?” she asks, her face taut with worry.We run through everything we’ve got so far, not a reassuring list.“What are you doing to find her?” Mrs. Alworth yells.Bob comes through the door and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you come down to my office? We’ll talk.”She looks at me, then Joe, but finally acquiesces.