Chapter 5

FIVE

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Saturday, September 21

10:30 a.m.

Wesley Portman wasn't looking so good. Patches of hair along his jawline said he hadn't shaved in a few days. Wrinkles creased through his button-down. No time this morning to iron. Except there was still a hint of togetherness most spouses of missing persons couldn't hold on to. "I've already given my statement to the officer downstairs."

The office he'd invited them into for this little conversation gave Leigh a perfect view out the back of the house and to the long deck stretching out over the canal. A gazebo had been built at the end, with a porch swing that rocked back and forth with the movement of the ocean-fed water. Small ripples shimmered with the wind, revealing the pockmarked surface full of thousands of transparent jellyfish. September was breeding season, according to Elyse. There was no escaping them. They washed up into the backyard, peppered the beach, and were dragged and dropped by pelicans. A single glass door provided access onto a massive upstairs deck looking out onto the canal and allowed enough light in for Leigh to note the sweat building in Wesley Portman's hairline.

"As I'm sure you can understand, Mr. Portman, we just want to make sure we've collected as much information about your wife's disappearance as possible. Every detail aids our investigation," Detective Moore said.

"Then what is she doing here?" Wesley Portman locked that dark gaze on Leigh.

Ice worked through her. She didn't understand. First, what'd happened between them downstairs and now this. Leigh held up a hand to keep Detective Moore from answering. "Excuse me. Do you have some kind of problem with me being here? As far as I can remember, we've never met before today."

"Are you really going to sit there and pretend you had nothing to do with this?" Pure vitriol liquified between them. "You were the one encouraging my wife to look into her own assault. You practically threw her into the deep end. Elyse is a nurse, for crying out loud. She doesn't know anything about law enforcement. She doesn't know how to protect herself. She asked for your help, and you threw her to the dogs."

Elyse was investigating her own assault? Damn it. Leigh lost a heavy dose of the defensiveness burning through her. "She never told me about the attack. We missed our scheduled call on Monday. I figured she'd forgotten because she was on vacation. I tried getting a hold of her, but her phone went to voicemail every time. How could I encourage her to look into what happened if I haven't talked to her in almost two weeks?"

"She…" Confusion warped and eroded the anger simmering on Wesley Portman's face. "Wait. She didn't tell you? Then how… Why would she…"

"Mr. Portman, I've asked Agent Brody to consult in the investigation, seeing as how she knew your wife and has experience in missing persons." She hadn't. At least, not officially, but Leigh wasn't going to clarify that to Elyse's husband. Detective Moore's interruption was supposed to serve to deescalate the tension. In vain. "If that's going to be a problem, I can request the FBI to send someone else."

"I don't understand what's happening." Wesley motioned both Detective Moore and Leigh into the two angled seats facing the desk as he took his own. A hint of a bandage peeked out from just beneath his right earlobe. "Elyse told you she'd been attacked when you saw us in the hospital on Monday, Detective, but you didn't believe her. She wouldn't talk to me. She… shut me out. Now she's missing. My wife is missing."

The Wesley Portman Elyse had described crumbled in an instant. The accusation was clear. Gulf Shores PD had failed Elyse Portman. Just as Lebanon PD had failed Leigh all those years ago. Arresting her father for a murder he hadn't committed, turning an entire town against her when she'd tried to make them see the truth.

"Mr. Portman, I can understand your frustration, but let me assure you, Gulf Shores PD has done everything in its power to figure out what happened to Elyse earlier this week, and we are doing everything we can to find her now." Detective Moore leaned forward in her seat. "Officers are searching the beach as we speak. If there's any sign of your wife, you will be the first to know, but for now, I need to know if Elyse was having any problems other than what occurred on Monday. Has she been acting differently? Expressed any fears or made complaints about someone in town?"

Attacked. The word hammered deeper into Leigh's brain, each time releasing a fresh combination of guilt and frustration. Why hadn't Elyse told her about this assault? Leigh could've done something. Could've helped. Maybe none of this would've happened. But Elyse wasn't the kind to ask for help. No. Instead, she made sure everyone in her life was taken care of first. Sacrificing her own needs for the happiness and good of others. Betraying herself to keep the peace and earn their love. Except she'd never had to earn it from Leigh. In this case, Elyse probably hadn't wanted to upset Leigh's new normal after the surgery and losing the possibility of giving birth to a biological child. Leigh had just asked Elyse to help her look into adoption lawyers. But now…

She recalled the pool of blood downstairs.

Now she would have to take these first steps without Elyse's encouragement, her advice, and her friendship.

"Like I said, she shut me out after the attack. It was like she'd become obsessed with figuring out what happened to her. She'd leave early in the morning—before Ava and I got up—and come back late. There was always food prepared for us, but we haven't sat down for a family meal all week. It was like we were living with a ghost." Wesley Portman's eyes glazed as though Elyse had already been confirmed dead, and he was trying to process the news. "We should've gone home, but we look forward to this vacation every year. I just wanted us to be together."

"You were injured recently." Leigh pointed to the right side of his head. "Behind your ear. Do you mind telling us what happened?"

His hand seemed to rise automatically, brushing against the Band-Aid nearly melting into his skin. "It happened a few days ago. I was unloading the dishwasher and came up too fast. The cabinet above me was open. I caught the corner."

Leigh made her own mental note to have one of the forensic techs swab the corners of the cabinets above the dishwasher when she got the chance. It would be easy enough to test if Wesley Portman was telling the truth. Or if he was hiding something.

"Mr. Portman, can you think of anyone who might want to hurt your wife?" Detective Moore asked.

"No. Everyone loved Elyse. She's always making sure everyone around her is taken care of. She volunteers with a group that helps refugees use their WIC benefits and offers to drive them to their OB/GYN appointments. She's involved with the young women in our church and makes sure to send gifts and cards to her brothers for special occasions. All she wanted—all she wants—is to make a difference. Ever since we lost our baby four years ago. Who would want to hurt her?" Wesley asked.

A slip. Past tense instead of present. Wesley Portman had caught himself, but there was no taking it back. He didn't believe his wife was coming home.

Detective Moore made a couple more notes in the flip pad of hers. Volunteer. Church. Baby. "With your permission, we'd like to look into the family's bank records. Also any devices she owned. Laptop, phone, iPad. I can request a warrant if you prefer?—"

"Why? What do our financial records have to do with Elyse's disappearance?" Wesley Portman turned his attention to Leigh. Divots creased between his eyebrows, messing up that pretty face that'd captured Elyse's heart back in high school.

The change in atmosphere coiled through Leigh. There was a defensiveness that hadn't been there before. Resistance to the police taking a deeper look. "We need to have a whole view of Elyse's life. Personal matters, finances, who she was talking to, relationships with coworkers—it all gives us an idea of her state of mind."

Wesley Portman ducked his head. In avoidance or guilt, Leigh wasn't sure. "In that case, yes, Detective. Please request a warrant. Once you have that, I'll give you anything you need."

"It would be much faster to get your permission now," Detective Moore said.

"Maybe so, but I'm not giving it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make some calls. Elyse's brothers will want to know what's happened." Wesley Portman narrowed his gaze on Leigh as he stood to see them out. "Elyse really never called you?"

"No." Leigh couldn't imagine why either. She would've helped any way she could. "Where's your daughter, Mr. Portman? Ava."

Leigh hadn't seen the fourteen-year-old since arriving on the scene. Odd. Considering her mother was missing and her father was being interrogated by police.

"I sent Ava to stay with a friend in the area right after I called 9-1-1," Wesley said. "I didn't want her to have to see…" His face paled slightly. "No fourteen-year-old should have to see her mother's blood on the floor."

"We'll want to talk with her as well. Soon, if possible." Detective Moore stood, offering a business card. "We'll be interviewing your neighbors to see if they might've noticed anything unusual this morning. Until then, you and your daughter will want to secure other accommodations while the forensic techs do their job. If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to contact me."

Wesley Portman nodded as Leigh got to her feet.

A deep muscular pain seared across her midsection and crushed the air from her lungs. Leigh grabbed for her lower belly. She'd moved too fast and pissed off the sutures keeping her insides from spilling out without thinking twice. If Elyse were here, she'd get another lecture. And probably an offer of a bed with some coffee or tea.

"You good?" Detective Moore's gaze dipped to her hand. The question wasn't so much was she okay. Not really. There was an undertone. An assessment of whether or not she'd made a mistake in allowing Leigh to insert herself into the case.

"I'm good." Leigh forced herself to release her hold on the back of the chair. Fingernail impressions smoothed away from the upholstery. The pain receded, slower than she wanted, but gave her a chance to breathe. "Mr. Portman, do you have any idea where your wife's phone is? Detective Moore has tried calling it, but the device might be turned off."

"Elyse lost it. On Monday." He nodded at Detective Moore. "We assumed she'd dropped it during the attack. We haven't seen it since."

"And you haven't tried to replace it? Move the number over to a new device?" Most people nowadays couldn't go more than two minutes without their phones. Cell phones were perhaps one of law enforcement's greatest gifts. It was how she and Elyse primarily communicated. Was that one of the reasons she hadn't told Leigh about the attack?

"I offered to get her a new phone. Elyse insisted on finding hers." Something resigned took hold in Wesley's expression. "I think she wanted to know where she'd been attacked. I asked her not to go looking for it, but over the past few days, she's been different. She wouldn't listen."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't she have known where she was attacked?" Leigh gauged his response then turned to Detective Moore. "What happened?"

"According to the physician who saw her in the urgent care Monday morning, Elyse Portman suffered a concussion. Because of the nature of her injuries, she wasn't able to remember the actual event. Only flashes. One of those flashes convinced her of an assault. A man had started yelling at her, coming toward her. She didn't remember more than that," Detective Moore said. "She was dressed in running clothing. Sand was found on her clothing, in her hair, and in her shoes. Every item was collected from her at the hospital, but forensics couldn't recover any DNA apart from Elyse's. I searched along her usual running route. Nothing stood out. No evidence of a struggle or her phone, and there were no witnesses who saw any kind of assault that early in the morning. We had no choice but to consider the matter closed."

Now she understood Wesley Portman's simmering frustration with police. Why he'd been belligerent from the beginning. They'd given up on his wife. A responding anger pulsed in Leigh's gut. Why was it so hard to convince the very people meant to protect us that we weren't as safe as they claimed? "Bet you wish you'd taken her seriously now."

Pounding footsteps intensified up the stairs. A baby-faced officer worked to steady his breathing as he hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "Detective, we've found a body."