The Hunted

9

Lauren was shivering by the time she arrived back at her car. It was not that far of a walk from the gymnasium, but the temperature had dropped again and the wind had picked up. She sat down and started the engine, cranked the heater to its hottest setting, and disengaged the emergency brake.

Or tried to.

“What the hell?” She pushed in the release button and attempted to pull up on the hand brake. It was ratcheted to the highest setting — which seemed impossible since she would be physically unable to set it that hard. Clumsily maneuvering in her down jacket, Lauren turned her body around and pulled her knees onto the bucket seat, then yanked on the lever with both hands. She grunted and moaned, knowing that all she had to do was move the brake up one notch to release it.

As she held her breath and strained one last time, the handle unlatched and then dropped down into a disengaged position. “Jesus,” she said, leaning against the seat for a second while she caught her breath.

A loud rumble from her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten all day. She repositioned herself, buckled her restraint, and pulled away. As she drove out of the lot, she started replaying the meeting in her head. Although she wished she had appeared more self-confident, the response had been nothing short of spectacular. To have so many people show up at a neighborhood gathering with the sole intent of helping her find Michael truly demonstrated the strength of “community” at work.

As Lauren drove down the dark, winding road toward her house, she felt the need to check her rearview mirror. There were no headlights — which brought a sense of relief, the state of mind she had been missing since Michael’s disappearance.

Lauren pulled into her garage and greeted Tucker as she walked into the house. He jumped up, gently placing his front paws on her chest and licking her on the cheek. “I know, you want to eat.” She filled his dog bowl with food, then headed into the kitchen. She unwrapped a frozen pizza and slipped it into the oven.

A moment later, she caught a glimpse of Tucker’s untouched food bowl. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be starving.”

The dog rubbed against her thigh and she patted him on the head. “Well, I’m going to eat, even if you’re not.” She checked on her pizza, then began setting out a couple of plates, glasses of water, and napkins. Then she stopped herself. The euphoria of the community meeting had vanished in an abrupt realization: she was setting the table for two, but only one would be eating.

After finishing dinner, Lauren pulled Michael’s handheld PC from her purse and powered it on. She touch-screened into Microsoft Outlook and retrieved his messages, then configured the device so it could also receive her e-mail as well.

There were no responses yet from Michael’s skiing buddy, “targard.” Lauren selected Amber’s message that was still in Michael’s inbox, and hit REPLY. She wrote Amber a short note asking if she could find out if Cablecast was satisfied with the work Nick Bradley had done for them. She then touched SEND and powered off the unit.

She stood and walked over to the cupboard, grabbed a chamomile tea bag, and filled a mug with the instant-hot faucet. She reached into the refrigerator to add some milk to the tea. But the carton was empty.

Empty?

I just bought this yesterday, she thought. Have I used that much of it? If Michael were here, he would’ve bought a larger size. But she realized that was not the point. How could she have used all the milk?

She took a sip of the hot tea and then spilled it down the drain. She had grown accustomed to drinking it with milk, the way Michael liked it. She shook her head, then folded her arms across her chest. “Michael this and Michael that. It’s time for me to stop being so dependent on him for every aspect of my life.” She looked down at Tucker, whose ears had puckered as if he were listening to her tirade.

She tossed the spoon into the sink, then walked upstairs to the bedroom. She fell back onto their bed and kicked her shoes off. “Where are you, Michael? It’s time to come home!”

She rolled over and grabbed his pillow again, hugging it against her chest and burying her face into the down.

But she didn’t pick up Michael’s scent. She looked at the pillow, then jumped off the bed and backed away. “Oh, my God. Oh my God!” She lunged forward for the Colt she had left on the night table. With trembling hands she grabbed the key around her neck, undid the metal lock, then struggled to pull the weapon from its velvet bag.

“Who are you?” she yelled into the dead air of the house. “Show yourself!” Tucker came running up the steps and into her room. Lauren swung the Colt at him, startled by the approaching noise, and was immediately relieved it was the dog. But upon seeing the gun, he began to bark, which only served to elevate her stress.

She looked down at the bed again and knew something was very wrong. She shoved her hand into her pocket, found Nick Bradley’s phone number, and started dialing.

He answered on the third ring.

“Mr. Bradley, this is Lauren Chambers. I’m gonna take you up on your offer,” she said rapidly.

“Is everything okay, Lauren? You sound—”

“No, everything’s not okay. Can you come over right now?”

“Now?”

“I think someone’s been in my house. He may still be here, I don’t know.”

“I’ll be right there. I’ll call the sheriff on the way and have him meet me there. Can you get out?”

“I’ve got a gun,” she said loudly, hoping the intruder would hear her.

“That’s real good, Lauren,” Bradley said slowly, “but I need you to just calm down or you’re not going to do anyone any good. If you go waving that gun around, the deputy isn’t going to want to help us out, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Just come.”

“I’m on my way, Lauren. Just hold it together.”

She gave him the address, then sat down on the floor, her back against the wall, the Colt pointed at the doorway.

It took Nick Bradley only five minutes to drive the two miles that separated their houses. The loud rapping at the back door made her jump.

Lauren pushed herself off the floor and moved slowly out of the room, her eyes darting from side to side as she approached the stairs. She cautiously made her way into the kitchen, flipped on the porch light, and parted the lace curtain. Nick Bradley was standing there, eliciting a loud bark from Tucker.

“Are you okay?” he shouted through the door.

Lauren nodded, and the dog began barking. “It’s okay, boy,” she said, stroking his head. “He’s a friend.” She told Tucker to sit, then unlatched the lock to let Bradley in.

“The sheriff should be here any minute,” Bradley said, eyeing Tucker while stepping into the nook. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s the sheets,” Lauren managed to say before sitting down hard in one of the chairs. “I can’t take it anymore…”

Bradley sat down beside her, glancing again at Tucker, whose eyes were fixed on him, the dog’s weight forward, ready to pounce. Bradley gingerly removed the Colt from Lauren’s hands and placed it on the table. “What sheets are you talking about?”

“There are cheap floral sheets on the bed. My mother gave them to us when we got married. We’ve never used them.”

“And you think there were other sheets on the bed when you left.”

“I’m sure of it. And that’s not all. There have been other things, too. It started with the dog. First he was out, then he was in. Then the emergency brake and the milk—”

A knock at the front door sent Tucker running.

“The sheriff,” Bradley said. “I think it might be a good idea to tie the dog up somewhere.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lauren said as she made her way across the room. She told Tucker to sit, then looked through the peephole and saw a deputy standing there. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then opened the door.

“I’m Deputy Matthews, ma’am. Is everything all right?”

“Thanks for coming, Deputy,” Bradley said from behind Lauren. He shook Matthews’ hand. “Nick Bradley. The one who called.”

“Dispatch didn’t give much information.”

“Dr. Chambers thinks that someone may have been in her house. I got here just before you did.”

“Did you see anyone, ma’am?”

Lauren looked down at the carpet and shook her head.

“Did you hear noises or was something stolen?”

“Nothing was stolen, but I’m sure someone was — or is — here.”

“Mind if I take a look around?” Matthews asked.

“I’d appreciate it,” Bradley said.

Deputy Matthews pulled a flashlight from his utility belt and his Smith & Wesson from his holster. “Stay here.”

After the deputy walked off, Lauren flopped down onto the couch in the living room, a cozy rectangular space in a country motif, with lace curtains, navy and white sofas, and a well-used fireplace. Bradley settled onto the edge of the sofa next to Lauren.

“Your Colt is licensed, isn’t it?”

“It was my daddy’s. I don’t know. I’ve had it locked away for several years.”

Bradley rubbed at his forehead. “All right, we’ll worry about that later. Meantime, you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

Lauren turned away.

“When the deputy comes back here, assuming he hasn’t found anything, he’s going to want a more complete explanation.”

“I don’t know where to start, it all seems so crazy.”

“The beginning is always best.”

Lauren’s face flushed and tears began to well up in her eyes. “I can’t handle this, Mr. Bradley, I’m coming apart.”

“Nick, Lauren. Call me Nick.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you just tell me what you know, maybe I can help.”

“Okay,” Deputy Matthews said, walking down the hallway, “the place is clear. Now, what was the first indication that there was an intruder?”

Lauren looked at Matthews and pushed away the tears with her fingers. “It’s the flowered sheets in my bedroom. Michael and I hate them, we never use them, but they’re on the bed.”

“Is Michael your husband?”

“Yes, he’s missing.”

“Oh, you’re Lauren Chambers — I’ve got it,” Matthews said, bobbing his head. “I saw a notice on the briefing board tonight when I started my rotation. Okay, go on. The sheets.”

“They weren’t there before, when I woke up this morning. There were solids on the bed, and I could smell Michael on the pillowcase. Then when I went to the refrigerator, the milk carton was empty, and I just bought it yesterday. And the parking brake in my car when I left the Neighborhood Watch meeting was set so hard I almost couldn’t get it unlatched—”

“I’m a little confused, ma’am,” Matthews said. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but what was it that made you think someone was in your house tonight?”

Lauren sniffled and looked at the deputy with wide eyes. “Don’t you see? The sheets. Someone changed the sheets on my bed.”

Matthews chuckled. “My wife always complains about the house chores. She’d be glad if someone changed the sheets—”

“You think this is funny?” Lauren said, her voice rising an octave.

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t be joking at a time like this.” Matthews glanced sideways at Bradley, who was focused on Lauren. “Was there anything else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Lauren said, stifling an urge to cry again, but failing.

Bradley reached over and pulled her close against his shoulder. “Deputy, how about getting Dr. Chambers a few tissues?”

Matthews frowned, then walked off, his stiff boots clunking against the wood floor as he went in search of a box of Kleenex.

“Lauren, you’ve gotta calm down. He’s not going to listen to you if you yell at him.”

She nodded and looked up to find Matthews approaching with a tissue box in his hands.

“Thanks,” she said, pulling one out and wiping her eyes. “This has just been a tough time, with Michael gone. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“Not a problem, ma’am. I understand.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bradley said, “I’ve got to go use the bathroom.”

Lauren looked at Matthews. “I told Deputy Vork about a car that was following me last night, but he didn’t seem to think it was important. Then my dog was in the house when I know I’d left him outside. The next morning, he was outside when I’d left him in the house with me the night before. With what’s been going on, I think that person who was following me is doing these things, to drive me from my home.”

“Now why would that person, assuming for a moment there is such a person, be doing that? What would he accomplish by driving you from your house?”

“Domination, power. I’m a psychologist, Deputy.”

“So who is this person?”

Lauren looked down and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Why would he be trying to dominate you?”

“Some criminals get off on that. Like rape, it’s all about power—”

“But we’re not talking about rape here.”

Lauren shrugged again, then looked up to see Bradley returning to the living room carrying a glass of water. He placed it on the coffee table in front of Lauren, who picked up the drink and took a sip. Staring into the cup, she said, “Rape could be his next step.”

Matthews shook his head. “Ma’am, I don’t mean to downplay—”

“Deputy,” Bradley said, “can I have a word with you for a moment in the kitchen?”

Matthews nodded.

Bradley placed a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “Will you be okay here for a few moments?”

Lauren shrugged off his hand. “I’ll be fine.”

“I think she’s gone off the deep end,” Matthews said. “And you know I have to run that Colt.” He looked at the kitchen table, where the gun had been lying. But it was no longer there.

“First things first,” Bradley said. “I agree she’s upset, emotional. Her husband’s missing, so to me, her reaction is perfectly understandable given the circumstances. But I do think there’s something really wrong here. There are too many coincidences—”

“What, that she thinks she put her dog in one place, but he’s really in another? She can’t remember that she finished a carton of milk? Or that her bed sheets are changed and she doesn’t recall doing it?”

“I admit it sounds strange on the surface, but what if she’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t doubt she’s telling the truth, Mr. Bradley. I just think she’s under a lot of stress with her husband gone, and she isn’t quite in touch with things. I’m sure she’d be the first one to admit it’s taking a mental toll on her.”

Bradley shook his head. “What if what she’s telling us actually happened? Suppose whoever’s responsible for her husband’s disappearance is also behind what’s been going on here?”

“That’s a huge leap, first of all. We don’t know why her husband hasn’t come home. Could be he’s screwing around behind her back. Or he could be buried under a snow bank somewhere in Colorado.”

“Those are possibilities, I agree. But if none of those scenarios are the real deal?”

“What would you like me to do, Mr. Bradley? We don’t have the manpower to post a twenty-four-hour watch on her place.”

“I just don’t want you to wait until she disappears like her husband before you decide to do something.”

Matthews regarded Bradley for a moment. “Fair enough. You got me. I’ll put in a request for hourly drive-bys to make sure everything looks okay. Will that do?”

“Only your department can say if that’s sufficient, Deputy. But I can tell you I’m sure Dr. Chambers will appreciate anything you can spare.”

Matthews nodded, bid his good-byes to Lauren, and left.

“Hourly drive-bys aren’t going to do much, are they?” Lauren asked.

Bradley, standing by the front door, leaned forward and peered out the peephole. “If you’re asking whether I think it means you can feel safe and secure, no, I wouldn’t go that far.”

Lauren nodded, then looked at the dog. “Tucker’s my best security system.”

“Except that someone’s been in your house and Tucker hasn’t stopped him.”

Lauren was quiet.

Bradley turned away from the door and stepped into the living room. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. That’s okay.” She lifted her palms off her knees and extended her hands. Tucker pushed up off the floor and bounded over to her. “It is kind of strange, though.”

“Unless whoever’s doing this is someone your dog knows.”

“He doesn’t know anyone well enough to be comfortable like that.”

“For all you know, whoever’s been handling Tucker could’ve been coming by your house every day when you weren’t home, making friends with him, feeding him treats. Hell, even steak. No way that dog would turn on him. He’d be his buddy. If that’s the case, this guy’s a real pro.”

Suddenly, Lauren’s eyes widened. “That could be why he wasn’t hungry tonight. I filled his bowl and he never ate.”

“When the perp came over to change the sheets, he probably gave the dog a nice juicy meal.”

Lauren crossed her arms in front of her chest and hugged herself. “I feel so violated. Dirty.”

“I think you should consider staying somewhere else — like a motel, or a friend’s place.”

“I won’t be driven from my home, Nick. That’s what this sick bastard wants. That much I know, that much I understand.”

“But I’m looking at it from a safety perspective. Maybe psychologically it appears that he’s just trying to drive you from your home. But I think it’s more than that. Each incident has grown bolder. It’s as if he’s playing with you. Almost torturing you. If he doesn’t get what he’s looking for, he may turn up the stakes.”

“I’m not leaving my house, Nick.” She said it staccato, as if each word deserved emphasis.

Bradley rubbed at the back of his neck, then sat down on the couch. “Why don’t we talk about Michael for a moment. Did he have any enemies, financial problems, did he owe anyone any money—”

“None of that.”

“You said at the meeting you’d written down the place where Michael had gone, but that you couldn’t find it.”

“I wrote it down on a magazine at my office, but a patient must’ve taken it. I went to Michael’s company and found an e-mail on his computer from one of his buddies, the one I think who was organizing the trip. I replied to it and asked for his name and number.”

“If you give me the e-mail, I can probably track him down through his Internet service provider, assuming it’s not a Web-based e-mail address.” Lauren rose from the couch and walked back into the kitchen, where she found the handheld PC. She turned it on and began tapping the screen, navigating through the software. “I went through his desk but couldn’t find anything that would help.”

“You don’t mind if I go there myself and poke around?”

“Of course not.”

She turned the device toward Bradley, who pulled a pad from his pocket and jotted down the e-mail address. “This ‘targard’ could be a company name. I’ll check it out.”

“Don,” Lauren said. “Or Dan. Maybe it was Dave.”

“What?”

“One of his frat buddies. I just remembered Michael mentioning him once. I think it was Dan.”

“I’ll check into it. Do you know which fraternity it was?”

Lauren thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I checked through his stuff yesterday to see if I could find something, a plane reservation or a car rental confirmation number, or whatever. I didn’t see anything with a fraternity logo on it, not even a pin or a shirt.”

“I can do some legwork on it, but once I figure out which one he was a member of, I’ll need Deputy Vork’s help. Frats don’t release rosters to anyone without a court order. But what about a yearbook? Maybe we can start there.”

“I couldn’t find one. He once told me he had a fire in his apartment just before we met. He lost most of his stuff.”

Bradley clicked his pen shut. “How about your relationship with Michael?”

“What about it?”

“Were you two having problems, was it strained, that sort of thing.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since Deputy Vork told me that most cases of missing husbands are actually men leaving their wives behind.”

Bradley studied Lauren’s expression for a moment. Her eyes were downcast, and she was fiddling with a small piece of paper in her hands. “Is that possible, Lauren? You’ve got to be honest with yourself here, and with me. No matter how painful it might seem.”

“At first, no, I didn’t. But now…” Lauren’s eyes met Bradley’s. “I guess it’s possible.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bradley waited for her to gather her thoughts.

“Are you playing therapist with me, Nick?”

“I’ve heard it helps.” He smiled warmly.

“Michael had been a little down the past few months. I don’t know how to describe it. And I didn’t even see it that way until today. But maybe that’s the whole problem. It’s always about me, the focus is always on me, ever since we got married.”

“Let’s back up a minute. You said he seemed down. How so?”

“Restless. Bored.” She shook her head. “I’m a damned psychologist and I couldn’t even see the signs under my own nose.”

Bradley placed a hand on hers. “How was he bored? You mean with you?”

“With everything. It all started with me. I ran into problems with my practice. Things didn’t work out, and I ended up having to shut it down. I had a bad time with it, accepting it, you know? I lapsed into a nasty depression, I was prone to panic attacks… Michael had to leave his job in San Francisco.”

“That could’ve been a positive for him. The commute’s a bear.”

“Nice try. But he was a software engineer for an upstart Internet company that had incredible potential. He said that one day we’d hit it big and money would never be an issue for us. He was excited, passionate about his work. That’s why he never cared about the commute. He would stay over some nights, when he had to work late. They had a cot in the back room where a few of them would sleep.” She sat there for a moment, staring off at the wall before continuing. “He left that job because he needed to be home for me every night. I wasn’t doing well and he didn’t want to be that far away.”

“Do you think he resented you for it?”

Lauren snorted. “Michael would grin and bear it, never let on that he was upset or disappointed. But about a year and a half after he left the company, they went public and the remaining partners took in fifty million apiece. And where was Michael? Working that dead-end job he found with Cablecast. When he left the Internet company, we needed money right away. Cablecast had an opening for a network account manager. He jumped at it and that was it. About six months later I was well enough to take a counseling job with the state. Of course, Michael arranged that one for me, too.” She shook her head. “He’s done everything for me. And I just let him do it.”

“So he gave up an exciting, stimulating career for something that was boring with little room for advancement or personal growth. It would be only natural for him to have developed resentment, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t see it at the time, but now…” She looked down at her lap. “I’d have to say it wasn’t just professional boredom. Michael was born in Los Angeles, he loved city life. When we met, I had a job that was tied to Placerville and he was just starting work with the company in San Francisco. Cost of living was much less here, and it reminded me of my home, in Wyoming. He missed the city, its excitement. I shouldn’t have forced him into living such a quiet life. It just wasn’t him.”

“That said,” Bradley softly remarked, “I think you should take a minute and consider the possibility that maybe Michael did just leave…”

Lauren was quiet for a moment, but then shook her head. “It just doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it, but I really believe that Michael’s not here because he can’t be, Nick, not because he doesn’t want to be.”

Bradley nodded. “Okay. Then we need to get started on trying to find Michael instead of waiting for him to find us. I’ll go to Cablecast, poke around a little, then look into his buddy’s e-mail address and see what I can do to narrow down where he went in Colorado. I know you said it was near Vail, but you can cross-country ski practically anywhere there’s snow, so it could be tough. But we may get lucky and catch a break. At some point, I might need to go there, but I’ve got a friend who can get some of the legwork done for me. I’ll look into the fraternity, then check with the airlines and monitor your credit cards in case Michael or someone using his card makes a purchase. All the standard missing person stuff. You say he wants to be found. Fine, then I’ll assume you’re right. But if I start seeing otherwise, I’m going to tell you that, too.”

Through glassy, red eyes, Lauren said, “I understand.”

“I’ve got some herbal stuff that works for me when I have a tough time sleeping.” He dug into his left pocket and pulled out a small black film canister. “I always keep some in my glove compartment. In my line of work, I find myself sleeping on a lot of crappy motel beds.” He popped open the lid and handed her a couple of brown capsules. “Take these and you’ll have a restful sleep. Looks like you can use it.”

“What is it?”

“Valerian root extract. All natural, don’t worry.”

Lauren took the pills and washed them down with the glass of water. “How long till they take effect?”

“About twenty minutes.” Bradley stood and stretched his legs. “I’ll be right back, I have to dig your Colt out of the dishwasher.” He smiled. “Better there than in the deputy’s car getting run for a license he’s probably not going to find.” He winked and walked out of the room.

In the kitchen, Bradley pulled the Colt from the silverware tray in the dishwasher, opened the cylinder and gave it a spin: six rounds were loaded. He snapped it closed and walked back into the living room, where Lauren was lying on the couch, her head resting against the back cushion, her arms splayed out and her eyes closed.

Bradley inserted the Colt into his front jeans pocket. He looked down at Tucker, who was lying beside Lauren’s feet. “Guess she didn’t need the pills, huh, boy?” The dog’s ears bobbed up and down with Bradley’s voice, but Tucker did not move.

Bradley bent over in front of Lauren, placed her arms over his shoulders, and lifted her swiftly and carefully off the couch. He carried her upstairs and laid her in bed, then slipped her shoes off and pulled the covers over her body. He saw the floral sheets and instantly understood why she didn’t like them.

Tucker lay on the wood floor at the foot of the bed. Bradley stood there for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of Lauren’s chest. Then he hit the light switch and bathed the room in darkness.