“I’m not worried,” Tony lied. “She’s alive and we’re going to find her and bring her home.”
Another deep shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t let me down. I’m just terrified I’ll do something wrong and find out later I could have made a difference if I’d done things differently.”
Normal reaction. “You’re doing exactly what you should be doing. Trust yourself. Trust your instincts. You brought Tif into this world. You and Steve raised an amazing young woman. You’ll do this part right, too.”
“I know,” she conceded. “You’re right. You stay focused on the investigation. I’ll take care of this press conference. Steve will be standing right beside me.”
“Good. Love you.”
“Love you. Wait. What about Joanna? You didn’t tell me if you confirmed her story.”
“I did. And if Tiffany was taken by the same people who took Joanna all those years ago that’s another point on our side. She and the other girl survived. So did all the others in the cases she’s followed all these years. We have every reason to be hopeful.”
“I’m holding you to that, Tony.”
“I’ve got this, Ang.”
His sister let it go there. He tucked the phone into his jacket pocket and glanced back to the table where Joanna and the girls were talking.
They were gone.
He shot to his feet and surveyed the dozens of faces crowded into niches and around tables. How the hell had he allowed his attention to wander?
Can’t be on your A game, pal, if you drink yourself into oblivion every night.
His cell vibrated. He dragged it out and glanced at the screen.
Headed to Parkhurst Hall. Room 207. Catch up.
Joanna. Tony didn’t bother going for his BMW. He needed to burn off some of this tension anyway. He didn’t break into an outright run but he walked faster than he had in he couldn’t remember how long. Across the campus until he reached Greene Street, then a short stretch to the freshman dormitory. The entry door had been left propped open.
“Smart move, ladies.” He imagined students left doors unsecured all too often. He remembered doing the same thing, especially if a party was planned, back in his college days. He hoped his niece was being a lot smarter than he had been.
Rather than wait for the elevator he barreled up the stairs.
Once in the corridor on the second floor he slowed to catch his breath. He smoothed a hand over his hair and straightened his jacket. The door to room 207 was open. He stood in the open doorway and waited to be noticed before entering.
Sadie Hall spotted him first. Her eyes rounded and she said, “Is this your friend?”
Joanna turned around. “Yes. He’s a research analyst for my producer. He used to be a profiler for the FBI.”
Both Sadie and Marla appeared duly impressed.
“Tony will have a look around while we finish the interview.”
The girls were only too happy to ignore him in order to focus on their chance for the spotlight. The sound of Joanna’s low, steady voice along with the higher-pitched excited tones of the students filled the room as he took his time examining the place.
Vickie Parton’s closet looked much like Tiffany’s. The clothes were considerably more conservative. There were far fewer shoes and only one handbag. He had a look in the drawers of the small chest, then moved on to the bed. On the night table the Bible sat front and center. Tony picked it up and fanned through the pages. No bookmark, no notes. He checked the drawers of the table. In the bottom one far in the back beneath a handful of chocolate candy was a packet of birth control pills.
Like Tiffany’s, pills were missing through Friday of last week. The packaging looked the same. The drugstore they’d chosen was the same one. The address told him it was near the campus. The prescribing doctor’s name looked vaguely familiar. Tony pulled out his cell and reviewed the photos he’d taken in Tiffany’s room.
Ima Alexander.
Same doctor. At least it was a connection. Thin, but a place to look they hadn’t had before.
“Question,” he said to the two students still deep in conversation with Joanna.
All eyes shifted to him.
“Do either of you use this Dr. Alexander?”
Hall said, “She’s at the clinic over on North Glynn Street. It’s a walk-in clinic. A lot of the students go there because it’s quick and easy—especially since most of us don’t have a personal physician here. And they don’t ask as many personal questions. Dr. Alexander is the only doctor there, I think. There’s a nurse-practitioner on Mondays and Fridays. Most of the time there’s a couple nurses and that’s about it. They’re seriously overworked but always nice.”
“I’ve been,” the other girl volunteered. “I twisted my ankle really badly and didn’t want to go to the infirmary so I went over to the clinic. They x-rayed my ankle. Nothing was broken thankfully. They gave me a ten-day supply of pain meds and an Ace bandage.”
Tony figured the pain meds were the nice part Sadie Hall meant. Pain meds for a sprained ankle sounded a little overboard to him, but then he knew the statistics on the rampant abuse of prescription painkillers.
“They are pretty nice there,” Sadie confirmed. “More understanding.”
“Thank you for your time, ladies,” he said. With a knowing look toward Joanna, he headed for the door.
“Thanks, girls. I’ll be back with follow-up questions and the air date.”
Joanna walked out behind him.
When they were in the stairwell going down, he said, “I hate to ask what you promised them.”
“Then don’t.”
North Glynn Street, 9:00 a.m.
The clinic had seen better days. The old brick building appeared to have once been a private residence. The front yard had been paved for patient parking. Across the street was a church. The clinic was only a few miles from the campus but far enough away to give some semblance of privacy, as the students noted. Tony parked in the lot and shut off the engine.
“You don’t really expect them to tell you anything, do you?” Joanna stared at the clinic. “I hear doctors take the whole HIPAA thing rather seriously.”
He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to learn. Mostly he wanted to watch reactions. He turned to his passenger. “You seem like a reasonably good actress. With your younger sister missing, it’s only natural that you’d have a panic attack.”
She reached for the door. “I’ve given a few award-winning performances in my time.”
Before he’d rounded the hood she had started breathing shallow and fast. She put her hand to her chest and presented a credible expression of fear. With his hand resting at the small of her back he walked her to the door. By then she was full blown hyperventilating.
He opened the entry door and murmured as she went in ahead of him. “I think I might actually be worried.”
She hiccuped. “Oh, I don’t like this.”
Tony led her to the registration desk where she did, in fact, put on an award-winning performance. So much so, they didn’t even make her wait to fill out the usual paperwork. The receptionist thrust the clipboard at Tony since the patient had named him as her husband.
A nurse immediately hustled them to an exam room. As Tony filled in the patient’s name as Rita Durand Gates along with a host of other fictitious info, the nurse determined that the patient’s blood pressure was inordinately high. An EKG was in order since his lovely wife also complained of chest pains.
While the nurse rigged Joanna up for the EKG, the doctor arrived. Petite, dark hair and eyes, Asian features. “Why didn’t you go to the ER?”
Clearly she was put out by the potential emergency. “We were headed that way,” Tony explained, “but we saw the clinic and my wife insisted on stopping here. She’s had panic attacks before so I wasn’t all that worried.”
“Who’s your family physician, Mrs. Gates?”
“We’re...from...out...of...town,” Joanna said between gasps.