“Morgan and I were debating whether we should call Sheriff King or stop in to see Harold.” Lance steered the Jeep onto the country road that led to town.
Sharp was silent for a few seconds. “Notifying King puts us at the risk of him warning us off without giving us any information. Then we couldn’t talk to Burns. Usually, I’m all for stepping carefully around law enforcement, but I think we’re better off asking for forgiveness rather than permission in this case. For all we know, King has already talked to Burns and kept it to himself.”
“So we’ll go talk to Harold after we finish with Curtis MacDonald,” Lance said.
“I’d start with a routine inquiry with the manager,” Sharp suggested. “Show Chelsea’s picture around the shop. See if anyone remembers her and what kind of reactions you get. If or when you confront Harold, do it in private. We don’t need to be charged with harassment.”
“I’d hate to ruin a sexual predator’s day,” Lance said, disgusted.
“The law is the law,” Sharp answered in a firm tone.
“Yeah. Yeah. I know.” But being nice to a predator turned Lance’s stomach. Experts could dispute the recidivism rate of sexual offenders all they wanted. Lance would never be convinced any of them could be rehabilitated. He held a grudge against anyone who hurt women or children and he always would.
“Morgan, please make sure he behaves himself,” Sharp said.
She laughed. “I’m the one who broke someone’s nose yesterday.”
“Point taken. Just try and stay out of trouble for one entire day.” Sharp chuckled. “Lance, I’ll call your mom and put Harold Burns at the top of her list. Let’s see if she can dig up more details on him. I’ll head to Tim’s neighborhood and start knocking on doors. You kids be careful.”
Sharp ended the call.
Ten minutes later, Lance parked in front of Skyver and MacDonald. The accounting firm was located in a small business complex at the edge of town. They went inside, and Morgan gave their names to the receptionist.
Curtis emerged in a few seconds. At forty-five years of age, he looked younger than Lance expected. Something about the word “accountant” made him think of old men and dusty ledgers. But Curtis’s light-brown hair was streaked with blond, not silver, and he moved like an athlete.
After brief introductions, Curtis asked, “Has there been any news?”
Lance shook his head.
“Please, come into my office.” Frowning, Curtis ushered them down a short hallway. He gestured toward a credenza that held a pod-style coffeemaker. “Do you want coffee?”
Lance and Morgan declined and took the two upholstered chairs that faced Curtis’s modern desk.
Curtis went behind the desk, but instead of sitting, he faced a window that looked out onto a small green space. “I still can’t believe she’s missing.”
Morgan began, “When was the last time you spoke with Chelsea?”
Curtis faced them, his distress plain in his eyes. “Friday morning.”
“Was there anything unusual about the conversation?” Morgan asked.
“Definitely.” Curtis rolled the chair out and dropped into it. He picked up a paper clip and twirled it between his fingertips. But he didn’t seem nervous, more like a fidgety man with too much energy for a desk job. “She was upset about something she didn’t want to tell me over the phone. She was going to come into the office Monday, but obviously that didn’t happen.”
Lance leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “So you have no idea what she wanted to talk to you about?”
“No.” Curtis’s tanned brow furrowed. “She’d been trying to catch up with her clients, but she was having a rough time. I was prepared for her to come in on Monday and quit. I had a counteroffer prepared.”
“You didn’t want her to quit?” Morgan asked.
“No. She’s smart and reliable. I’ll admit that her extended maternity leave has put me in a bit of a bind. We have the year-end statements to prepare and tax season right on top of that.”
“Seems like it would be easier to replace her,” Lance said.
Curtis shook his head. “Turnover is expensive. I already know what I have in Chelsea. She’s good at her job. And seriously, I’d feel like a total jerk firing her over a problem with her baby. Her absence has been inconvenient, but it’s temporary. We’ll survive.”
“What has Chelsea been working on?”
“Nothing specific.” Curtis said. “Her clients have been spread out among a number of associates. I simply started copying Chelsea on all activity and correspondence so she could get back up to speed. We were both hoping she could start coming in part-time and do some work at home.”
Morgan crossed her legs. “Do you normally allow that sort of flexibility?”
Curtis shrugged. “This is the first time maternity leave has come up with anyone outside of administrative personnel. We’re not a big firm. But as I said before, turnover is expensive. It costs money to replace key staff. It disrupts client relations.”
“Is it possible Chelsea was upset about something else?” Morgan asked.
Curtis dropped the paper clip. It hit the desk with a soft thud. “Like what? She’s a good worker, but our relationship is professional. We’re friendly, but we’re not friends, if you know what I mean. I’m sure if she had a personal problem, she’d take it to a girlfriend.”
“What about problems with a client?” Lance asked.
Curtis lifted a shoulder. “Not that I know about.”
Lance couldn’t think of any further questions. “Do you mind if we talk to the rest of the staff?”
“Not at all.” Curtis stood. “Everyone here is really worried about Chelsea.”
“What about your partner?” Lance got to his feet.
Curtis shook his head. “Jim Skyver died six years ago. He was the founder of the firm. Changing the name is more effort than it’s worth.”
Lance followed Morgan out of the office.
There were six junior accountants and a handful of administrative staff. No one at the firm had anything interesting to say. Chelsea seemed genuinely well liked, and her coworkers acted concerned with her disappearance.
Lance and Morgan left the building and got into the Jeep.
“He seems like a nice guy.” Lance started the engine.
“He does. Why would Chelsea make an appointment to see her boss if she was going to run away?”
“Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly. Could be depression.”
“Maybe.” Morgan turned to the passenger window. “But I’m not convinced. She would have had to make arrangements for a car to be left in Grey’s Hollow. Where would she get the money? We haven’t found any additional friends in her life. She barely had time to see Fiona let alone plan an elaborate vanishing act.”
“Could she have had an affair?”
Morgan snorted. “With a preschooler and a baby? I doubt sex was on Chelsea’s mind often. With a four-month-old colicky baby, sleep would be a priority, not sex. Besides, no one involved in the investigation has alluded to any indication of infidelity on Chelsea’s part.”
“What if the affair happened before she got pregnant?”
“We’d have to go back and look at all records from over a year ago.”