Come and Find Me A Novel of Suspense - By Hallie Ephron Page 0,37
Ashley really returned home? Or had someone unfamiliar with her personality quirks tried to make it look as if she had?
Diana ran into the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet. She gagged and tried to vomit. But she’d eaten nothing since the ice cream hours earlier. She sank down to her knees and convulsed again and again.
Finally, she slammed down the toilet lid and pushed herself back against the wall. She dropped her head between her knees. Just stop, she told herself. Relax. Breathe. She slowed her breathing, deepened the intakes and exhales. When she was ready, she sat up and pressed her spine against the cool tile wall.
She had to convince the police that something was wrong.
Diana stood. Steadying herself against the sink, she soaked a washcloth in cold water and put it over her face. Wiped the back of her neck and the insides of her arms. Then, very deliberately, she wrung out the cloth and folded it, matching the corners neatly the way she imagined Ashley would have before hanging it on the towel rack.
On her way to the phone, she checked every door and window to be sure they were locked.
Back in her office, she called Officer Gruder. She explained, as calmly as she could. “Someone tried to make it look as if she returned home. But they don’t know her the way I do.”
“You’re basing this on a pile of unopened mail and some clothes left on the floor?” When he put it that way it did sound flimsy.
Still . . . “I know my sister.”
“And I know missing persons. There’s just not enough evidence to—”
She cut him off. “There’s a man named Aaron Pritchard. He was there, at Copley Square, when she disappeared. He’s a former boyfriend. Says he saw her talking to a man, and maybe he did. But I think it’s also possible that he might have talked to her himself.”
Silence on Gruder’s end. Maybe now she’d gotten his attention. “I have his phone number,” she said. As she recited it, she could hear clicking like he was typing.
“Did you look at the surveillance video from her building?” she asked.
There was a pause. “We’re working on getting permission to access the building’s security systems.”
Since when did police need permission to view surveillance video? Had he even tried to get it?
He went on. “I’ll check out Mr. Pritchard. And of course please call me if anything else”—that you neglected to mention, she heard the unstated accusation—“turns up on your end.”
“And you’ll let me know when you’ve looked at the surveillance—” Before she could finish, he’d hung up.
Diana smashed down the phone. To hell with him. She knew what she knew. Something had happened to Ashley, and it probably started Friday night at Copley Square. Hundreds of people had been there. At least four video cameras had been capturing the action. One of them had to have seen the mystery man whom Aaron claimed he saw talking to Ashley. Surely she’d have had a response by now to her request to see the original footage.
She scrolled down through her stack of unread e-mail messages.
There it was, a message from P2H4.
RE: VIDEO CAMS
She read on.
Got your message. Sorry to hear about your sister. Whatever we can do to help. We had 6 cameras going. Come over and have a look. Call first. We’re in and out.
- Jess
At the end were an address and a phone number.
Diana mapped the address. It was downtown, just opposite Copley Square—probably an office in the same building from which they’d hauled Superman onto the roof.
Come over and have a look. The person from Spontaneous Combustion might as well have told her: Fly to the moon.
Diana called the number. Jess wasn’t there, but someone named Eddie was. He’d be there until six, and someone would be there all day tomorrow from ten on. She was welcome to come by. They had an editing suite where she could examine the footage.
“Is there any chance you could post it so I can look at it online?” Diana asked.
Sorry, was the answer. “We don’t have the permissions we’d need. Besides, these files are huge. There’s an hour plus on each cam.”
Surely she’d find traces of Ashley in six hours of digital video. “I’ll be there,” she heard herself say. “Thanks.”
She hung up and printed off the message and the map. It was already five. She’d have to move if she was going to get there before they locked up. But how?