“Shit, it isn’t, but it’s damn close.”
I shook my head, my braid skimming across my back. “See, this is what I mean. Circles, that’s all I’m getting is circles.”
“Have you accessed Harris’s taxes?”
“I did up until he sold everything. For the last two years there’s nothing. No personal or corporate. Nothing.”
“Stella?” Foster asked, looking at the list of properties. “Did you just say 12560 Kingsway Trace?”
I nodded, looking down at where Foster’s finger was on the list. “Entermann’s owns that too?” I asked in disbelief.
“According to this list.”
Remembering a recent conversation with Dina Rosemont, I asked, “What do you know about a private airstrip off of Woodward Avenue and Eastways Road?”
“Not much, but that’s up in Bloomfield Hills. There are lots of wealthy people, so a private airstrip wouldn’t surprise me. Why?”
“I promised a friend I’d go check it out. I think while I’m up there I might check out this house on Kingsway Trace.”
“Well,” Foster said, “be smart and take I-75. Woodward would get you there, but I recommend you avoid Highland Heights.”
Why hadn’t I thought of that? Woodward goes straight from Highland Heights to Bloomfield Hills.
I rolled my eyes. “Have you been talking to Dylan?”
“Me? No. Why?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’ll call after I have a look around. While I’m up there, do you want me to check out the MOA house?”
“No. You have enough things going on with this story. You don’t need another. Besides, there’s no reason to think it’s connected.”
“You’re right. I’m overly suspicious of everything. It’s the whole compilation theory.”
“Compilation?” he asked.
“Like everything is a piece of something bigger. I think I’m trying to fit everything together when they don’t fit.”
Foster’s voice softened. “I just picked up a story about a teacher at East Grove. A mother claims she saw inappropriate pictures on her daughter’s phone. If you’d like to take that, I’ll take this over. I can tell it’s wearing on you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to give it up. I feel like I’m so close. I just need one break.”
“OK, the offer stands.”
I smiled at my friend as I gathered my things.
Driving on I-75 to Bloomfield Hills, I remembered my conversation with Dina Rosemont and how impressed I’d been with her strength and determination. She had said she would never give up her search, and from the sound of her voice I believed her. We both knew the statistics weren’t in Mindy’s favor and got worse the longer she stayed missing. I shook my head, thinking how it had been over two months. I didn’t know if the story I was researching would help her or help us learn about her, but my gut told me it would. That was why I couldn’t hand it over to Foster. Even so, Bernard had given me only until the end of October. That was less than three weeks. I needed to learn something, soon.
Dina told me that she’d received a phone call from a woman who had seen one of the flyers she’d hung. The woman wouldn’t give her name, but said that as a mother she needed to call. Apparently the caller lived near Woodward Avenue and Eastways Road, and there was a wooded area near her home where her children liked to play. A private airstrip was located there too.
The caller admitted that a twelve-and thirteen-year-old weren’t the most reliable witnesses, and though she didn’t want them personally involved, she felt compelled to share what they had told her. Even before the caller heard about Mindy on the news, her children had told her a story about a man carrying a woman from a truck to a plane. The woman calling admitted that because her children had been known to be imaginative, she hadn’t paid much attention to their story. She’d figured there could be any number of good reasons why they thought they’d seen what they described. However, once Mindy’s picture appeared on TV, her children brought up the story again. Even then, they only told the story; they didn’t mention the connection. It wasn’t until they were out one day and saw one of the flyers that her thirteen-year-old daughter pointed at Mindy’s picture and specifically said, “Mom, that’s the lady who couldn’t walk, so they carried her on the plane.”
My heart stopped as I asked what they’d meant by couldn’t walk. Dina said she’d asked too. The woman hadn’t known. After they hung up, the woman had asked her children and called Dina back. Her children told her the woman had been sleeping.