Thinking of the house Danny lived in, Kate fought to keep her expression bland. “And did he give you a lot of jewelry?”
“In the beginning,” Tiffany shrugged.
“And how long had you been dating?”
“About six months, but lately not so much.”
“Why was that?”
“Look, the first time he shows up without a gift – okay I can handle that. But when he comes around a second time empty handed, well I’m not having it. I’m not some cheap lay he can take advantage of whenever he wants to scratch an itch.”
“And how did he take that?”
“He whined about having a string of bad luck, said cash was short. I told him, not my problem.”
“Do you know what he did for a living?”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I know what he put down on his banking records. And, yeah, I looked, so sue me. It said he was a systems analyst. But that was a load of crap because when I asked him a simple programming question he acted like I was speaking a foreign language. I think the jerk actually forgot what he wrote down on his loan application.”
“So you don’t know where he worked?”
“I didn’t say that,” Tiffany shifted in her chair. “He finally admitted he was a professional gambler. Said he made a killing in Tampa at the casinos.”
“Did he ever get violent with you?”
Tiffany snorted again. “Some guy tries that shit with me he’s going to be in for a black eye. I’d kick his ass but good.”
“So if you knew he lied about his employment, why did you go out with him?”
Tiffany flipped her bracelet back and forth. “He was an okay lay and for a while he gave good gifts. So why not?”
Yeah, Kate thought, why not.
* * *
Relieved to have her court day over, Jo was walking to her car when her phone rang.
“Jo, I’m so glad I caught you.” Cheryl said. “I know you’re off shift, but I’ve got Aggie Witmore on the line for you and she sounds hysterical. Something about her boy is missing.”
“Give me her number and tell her to hang up and I’ll call her right back,” Jo said. She waited a beat then dialed the number. “Aggie? It’s Jo Cazimer.”
“He’s missing,” Aggie wailed. “He never got off the bus this afternoon.”
“Christian is missing?” Jo walked quickly to her car turned on the engine and switched to Bluetooth.
“When he didn’t come home I called his friend Mason to see if he stopped over there to play, but Mason said Christian wasn’t on the bus.”
“Did you call the school to see if he was still there?”
“They said he was absent today. But that’s not true. I watched him get on the bus myself.”
“Okay, where are you now?”
“I’m at home. I didn’t know what to do so I called you.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No,” Aggie sobbed, “I don’t want to go back to jail.”
“You won’t go to jail because your son is missing,” Jo worked to keep her voice calm. “Look, I’m on my way. Meanwhile, start calling all his friends and see if he’s at someone else’s house.”
Jo ran through a mental list in her head. Check with the school, find his friends, determine when he was last seen, call it in. When she reached Aggie, the woman was hysterical.
“I’ve called everyone and nobody’s seen him.”
“Well he didn’t just vanish,” Jo patted Aggie’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the school and find out what happened. You said he got on the bus this morning?”
Aggie sniffed back a sob. “I watched him myself. He didn’t want to go today since Danny’s funeral is tomorrow. But I thought he’d be better there than at home.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Maybe he’s just playing hooky.”
“But where would he go?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
When they arrived at school, the office was in turmoil.
“I want to know what you did with my son,” Aggie shouted, adding to the noise and confusion.
“Now, Mrs. Witmore.” A tall man with wavy black hair stepped forward.
“We’re doing everything we can to find him.”
Jo stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Jo Cazimer.”
“She’s a police officer,” the secretary piped in.
“Not exactly,” Jo smiled. “You’re the principal?”
He nodded, “Frank Phelps.”
“Then perhaps we could go to your office for a moment.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Mrs. Witmore, come this way.” He led them into a small office crowded with bookcases and a desk too big for the space.
“Could you tell us the last time someone saw Christian?” Jo began as soon as they were seated. “Mrs. Witmore knows that he got on the bus for school but we don’t know what happened next.”
“I’ve interviewed the bus driver, Mrs. Tiller, and she confirmed that he indeed got on her bus today and she said he also got off. But Ms. Johnson, his teacher, said he never made it to class. She marked him absent today.”
“Well, somebody saw him when he got off the bus, so where did he go? Aren’t the children supervised at that time?”
The principal stiffened. “I don’t like what you’re implying,” he snapped. “This is not our fault.”
“I’m not implying anything, Mr. Phelps. I’m simply asking to get a better picture of what was going on at the time. Now, are the children supervised when they get off the bus? What’s the normal procedure for them to get to class?”
There was a tap, then the door to the office opened and a middle aged woman stuck her head in. “Excuse me Officer, I’m Cathy Tiller, Christian’s bus driver. I just got back from my run and the secretary told me the problem.”
“Come in, Mrs. Tiller,” the principal waved her in. “Hopefully you can shed some light on this situation.”
“Well, Christian did get on the bus today and I watched him get off as usual.”
“Did he seem upset?” Jo asked.
She shook her head. “Not that you would notice. I know his father died recently, and I was so sorry to hear about that.” She reached over and gave Aggie’s hand a squeeze. “But I didn’t notice anything different. He headed back toward the playground as usual.”
“The students get off the bus and go to the playground?” Jo asked.
“Yes, my bus gets in a little early so the students are allowed to go to the playground until the bell rings.”
“And is someone supervising them at that time?”
“We have a teacher on duty at the front of the school where the students line up before class,” Mr. Phelps stated.
“And where is the playground?”
“It’s behind the building,” Mrs. Tiller offered. “It’s not that big, just some swings and a sliding board. Enough space for a game of catch.”
“Footballs are not allowed,” the principal added quickly. “Games of catch so easily turn into touch-tackle and students get hurt.”
Jo turned back to the bus driver. “So did Christian participate in these games of catch?”
She shook her head. “Christian was more of a loner. He’d usually stand off to the side and watch, or talk with his best friend, Mason Riley. Now Mason was on the bus today, too, so maybe he knows where Christian went.”
“And where can we find Mason Riley?” Jo asked getting to her feet.
“I’ll get you the address,” Mrs. Tiller offered.
“This is not the school’s responsibility,” Mr. Phelps stated again.
“Well actually it is,” Jo said tightly. “The student was delivered to your care as admitted by your own bus driver. His safety is your responsibility until you deliver him home again.”
“But….”
“But right now we’re not interested in casting blame, Mr. Phelps. We’re interested in finding Christian.” Not waiting to hear more excuses, Jo turned and left h
is office. She spotted Betsy Johnson standing at the front counter and hurried over.
“Ms. Johnson, I’m not sure if you remember me.”
“Of course I do, Officer. There’s nothing wrong with my memory.”
Jo plastered a smile on her face. “Well, we have a problem. Christian Witmore got off the bus here at school today but you marked him absent.”
“He was never in my class today, so of course he was marked absent.”
“But he arrived at school….”
“Officer Cazimer,” Betsy said impatiently. “I’m not aware of who gets on or off the bus. That’s not my responsibility. Christian Witmore never made it to my class today, so I marked him absent. Had he come in late, I would have marked him tardy.” She looked directly at the silently weeping Aggie. “But since he never showed up it just tells me he has no respect for education like so many other people I know. Now if you have nothing more, I’m late for an appointment.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s missing?” Jo pressed.
Betsy picked up her things from the counter. “Of course it bothers me if a child is missing. But there is nothing I can do about it. So no, Christian Witmore is not my problem at the moment. And since I’ve just been assigned to coordinate Field Day with the PE Teacher, which in this heat is a ludicrous idea,” she gave the principal a disgusted look, “you’ll have to excuse me.” Turning, Betsy Johnson left the office.
“She’s just upset because of Field Day,” the secretary added.
“Well, I’m upset that Christian is missing,” Jo said hotly. “Let’s get Mason’s parents on the phone.”
The phone call wasn’t necessary as Mr. Riley, Mason in tow, entered the office. “We just got a call from one of the other parents,” Mr. Riley said. “They told us Christian was missing so we came to see if there was anything we could do.”
“I’m Jo Cazimer,” Jo said extending her hand. “Mason, I hear you’re Christian’s best friend.”
The boy had the same ebony skin as his father and eyes huge and dark as midnight. “I guess.”
“Did you see him get off the bus today?”
Mason nodded but said nothing and leaned a little closer to his dad. Mr. Riley rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay, son, if you know something you should tell the police officer.”
“But I promised not to. It’s a secret,” he said solemnly.
“Mason,” Jo said quietly, “Christian might be in trouble so we need to help him.”
“But he’ll be in trouble if I tell and I promised, Dad. You said I should never break a promise.”
“You tell me where he is,” Aggie shrieked and would have grabbed for the boy if Jo hadn’t stepped in front of her. Mason darted behind his father’s legs.
“It’s not necessary to shout at my son,” Mr. Riley said. “Mason, did Christian tell you what he was going to do today? Do you know where he is?”
Mason stayed half behind his father and looked at Jo. “He didn’t want to be here today so he was going to his secret place.”
“Do you know where that place is?” Jo worked to keep her voice calm. “Will you tell us?”
Mason looked to his father for reassurance then nodded. “It’s easier if I just show you.”
“It’s here on school property?” the principal snapped.
“I guess so,” Mason stammered.
“Why don’t you take us there,” his father said gently with his hand still on his son’s shoulder. “That would be a big help.”
“And Christian won’t get in trouble?”
Mr. Riley shook his head then looked pointedly at the principal. “No, Christian won’t get in trouble. We just want him home and safe.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Mason turned toward the office door. “We have to go around back. It’s sorta behind the playground.”
As they followed Mason around the building and across the playground, Jo walked beside him. “Do you know why Christian didn’t want to come to school today?”
Mason nodded. “Bruce has been picking on him since his Dad died. It really makes Christian upset.”
“I guess so,” Jo said quietly. “Does Bruce pick on everyone or just Christian?”
“Mostly Christian, but sometimes other kids. He’s not very nice.”
“Do you know why he picks on Christian?”
Mason shrugged. “I don’t think he likes him.”
They reached the chain-link fence that bordered the playground and Jo watched in amazement as Mason reached down and pushed the fence near the bottom of one of the posts. Someone had cut away the link fasteners and the fence pushed easily forward creating an opening large enough for a child to crawl through. Mason edged under and then looked back at the group.
Mr. Riley gave Jo a resigned look, then giving the fence a harder push to make the opening larger he worked his way under. Once on the other side he tugged again and then held up the chain-link flap. Jo was the first through and sent Riley a thankful glance.
“This is vandalism,” the principal said as he started through. “Someone is going to have to pay for this to be fixed.”
For a moment Jo thought Mr. Riley was going to just let the flap go to smack Phelps on the head. But he held the links until the last of the group was through.
“You’ve got to go this way,” Mason said, leading the adults on a path that was more idea than reality. But soon they were in a small clearing. A plastic toy chair sat near a plank of wood that had been propped against a tree to form a child size lean-to. Some magazines were shoved inside and candy wrappers littered the ground.
“This is it,” Mason said. “This is his secret place. He liked to come here and just sit by himself. I only know about it ‘cause I’m his best friend. But I wasn’t supposed to tell.” Mason’s eyes began to fill. “Now he’ll be mad at me.”
“It’s okay, son,” Mr. Riley said gently rubbing his boy’s back. “You did the right thing. And sometimes the right thing is hard to do.” He turned to Jo. “What do we do now? Should we search this area?”
Jo shook her head. “No, we’ve got to call this in and get an Amber Alert started.”
“Oh my god,” Aggie sobbed and started to sway. Mrs. Tiller grabbed her arm.
“Come on, Mrs. Witmore, let’s get you back to the office where you can sit down.”
“Dad, what’s going to happen now? Is Christian going to be in trouble if they call the police?”
“No, we just need to find him. Do you have any other ideas of where he might go?”
Mason shook his head. “He said he was going to his secret place until school was over and then he’d meet me back on the bus. But he never showed.”
Jo called in the request for the Amber Alert and gave the tiny clearing a final glance. Had Christian decided not to wait until school was over to leave? Or did he just wander away and lose track of time? Maybe even now he was trying to make his way back home. Making a silent wish for his safety, Jo followed the group back to the school’s office.
They searched until dark, walking every inch of the playground, tramping through the woods, and knocking on doors, but Christian was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Eight
It was close to midnight before Jo walked up the steps to home. They had no clue as to what had happened to Christian and her mind kept replaying Kate’s words. I think he might have seen something because every time I try to talk to him, he clams up. Had Christian seen his mother put something in his father’s drink? Or did he see someone at his house?
Kate pushed open the door as Jo reached the porch. “I can tell from looking at your face you didn’t find him.” But as Jo walked by, Kate fanned the air in front of her face. “Whew, what is that smell?”
Jo watched her dogs back away and grimaced. “Eau-de-Bug Spray. Someone doused me with it before I could say anything.”
“Looks like they were way too late.” Kate looked pointedly at the numerous bites that ran up and down Jo??
?s bare arms.
“Yeah, damn mosquitoes hit us right at dusk, big surprise. We were almost finished searching the patch of woods behind the school. Anyway, by the time someone got the bug spray, I had already provided a banquet, or so it feels.” She rubbed hard against her thigh. “I think those little buggers bit right through my pants. I need a shower.”
“That’s for sure. You get any dinner?”
Jo shook her head. “Wanted to take advantage of what daylight was left.”
“Okay, hop in the shower. I picked up meatball subs on the way home. You want?” Jo’s stomach growled loudly in response. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Kate laughed. “Go get cleaned up.”
Jo was sitting on the edge of her bed wearing a sleeveless nightshirt when Kate walked into her room.
“Here, I’ve got some After Bite that should help with some of the itching.”
“Thanks. Those buggers got me everywhere. How can something so small bite through fabric?” Jo dabbed the numerous bites on her arms and then started on her ankles and up her legs. I think one crawled under my pants leg and chewed his way up.”
Kate shook her head in sympathy. “You are covered, that’s for sure. And here’s your comb. Do something with your hair.”
Jo reached for the comb and frowned. “Why?”
“Cause if it dries like that, you’re going to be able to scare small children in the morning.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
Kate laughed and turned, “Your sandwich is ready whenever you are. You want wine or iced tea?”
“A really, really big glass of wine.”
Jo settled at the small kitchen table and dug into her sandwich. “I saw that the security lights are up,” she said with her mouth full. “Looks good. The front lawn lit up like daylight when I pulled into the driveway.”
Kate settled with her coffee across from Jo. “Yeah, Andy did good work. I still think there are a few dark spots so I called him. He’ll be out first thing tomorrow to check it out again. So are you going to work tomorrow or joining the search?”
Jo swallowed and took a large gulp of wine. “As much as I’d like to help, tomorrow I can’t. We’ve got two out on vacation this week and that leaves us short handed. If they haven’t found Christian by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll see where they can use me after work. You?”
Kate shook her head. “And I hate to dump more on you, but tomorrow before you check in, you need to stop by the morgue.”