The Second Girl

Fall wind’s howling outside my window.

I sit on the sofa to have my coffee and go over the notes from my interview with the Gregorys. I have a couple of hours before I have to be at their house. I figure I’d better get some phone calls done, try to set up interviews with Miriam’s friends from the list, and call Amanda’s family, see if I can get in to talk with her.

I’ve broken just about every rule there is to break in the so-called PI code, but I need to be careful about stepping on toes with respect to Amanda’s investigation. I had dealings with PIs when I was a cop, and I have to say, they pissed me off more than once. Normally I couldn’t give a shit, but I like Davidson, and Luna’s a real friend.

I curl over the pages of my notes to a fresh page and mark the date and time.

My first call’s to Davidson to let him know I got hired by the family of the missing girl. We talk for a bit. He’s not concerned, actually figured I would get hired, but it’s a different matter when I tell him I’ll be contacting Amanda’s family to set up an interview.

“You want to be careful about talking to her,” he tells me. “She’s a victim in an ongoing federal investigation.”

“Yeah, and the last thing I’ll be talking about is your investigation, so no need to worry. All I want to do is show her a photo of Miriam Gregory and see if she knows her.”

“I’m not going to say don’t do it. Just know the edge, Frankie.”

Yeah, he can say “don’t do it,” but that won’t stop me. I wouldn’t be breaking any rules, either, just making enemies. I’ve been hired to investigate a case, and she’s my only lead right now. He can make things tough on me if he wants, but it doesn’t sound like he’s trying to do that. It’s always been helpful that I’m a retired cop. Now, if boys like Davidson knew I was forced into retirement, that would be entirely a different matter. I’d be through, an addict, another waste.

So for the sake of courtesy and cooperation, I tell him, “Understood, buddy. No worries there.”

“And if you get any information I can use, you’ll call me, right?”

“Of course.”

The next call I make is to Amanda’s father, Arthur Meyer. It’s his cell phone. I light up a cigarette before making that call.

I’m thinking it’s going to go straight to voicemail, but he answers after the fourth ring. “Hello.”

“Mr. Meyer?” I ask.

“Yes,” he answers.

“My name is Frank Marr. I’m a retired DC police detective.”

“I know who you are,” he says kindly. “I wanted to meet you and thank you personally, but Ms. Costello said she’d thank you for me. How are you, Detective?”

“She did, and thank you, I’m fine. I appreciate that, but I’m calling for another reason. Unfortunately, I’m looking into another case similar to your daughter’s. I was hired by a family whose daughter is still missing.”

“Yes, I know the family. They were recently in touch with us. I gave them Ms. Costello’s number and the number of the detective in DC in charge of our case. I hope you don’t mind, but I also gave them your name.”

“I know. I spoke to the husband and wife the other day. Because the two cases are so similar, I really have to interview your daughter.”

It takes him a moment, and then he says, “She’s been through…a lot. I don’t know. Can’t you just get the information you need from Detective Davidson? Or the FBI?”

“I’ve already spoken with Detective Davidson several times. I knew him when I was on the department, so he’s been very helpful. What I really need to do is show Amanda a photograph of the missing girl. That’s all. See if she knows her. Maybe ask one or two other questions. It’s something I have to do in person.”

“I certainly don’t want to stand in the way of you possibly finding this other poor girl. It’s just that—”

“I can appreciate your concern for your child, Mr. Meyer. I can’t imagine what she went through. The last thing I’d want to do is make it more difficult for her, but I should tell you, in the short time I spent with her, I found her to be a very strong young girl.”

“She is very…” he begins with difficulty. “Yes, she is.” It takes another brief moment. “I can come home early from work tomorrow, say, around four? I’d like to be there, too.”

“That’ll be fine. Thank you, Mr. Meyer.”

“No, thank you, sir. We can’t thank you enough.”

Damn, if I don’t feel taken aback by that. Didn’t think I could get so affected.

Shit.

I snuff out the remains of my cigarette and light another one.





Twenty-nine



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