worked patrol in Devonshire Division and knew apartments in the area were usually filled with students from the nearby university. "After we talk to neighbors, we should head over to Cal State Northridge. Maybe she was a student there."
Darius nodded his head in approval. "Good idea. We'll hit some of the businesses down the street as well."
Heather's building was tan stucco with teal blue trim, including the heavy metal security gate at the front. Punching the button labeled "Manager," we waited for a response. After a few seconds I tugged the handle on the security door and snorted when it pulled open easily. "They make it really hard on bad guys here." Moving past a bank of brass-plated mailboxes, I glanced at the paperwork on my clipboard. "We want apartment twelve."
We followed the concrete walkway to a central courtyard. Surrounding the quad were two stories of apartments with faded blue-green doors fitted with tarnished brass numbers.
Darius pointed to an apartment on the second floor, then headed toward the open-air stairway. Outside Heather's apartment, we listened briefly for any sound, and then knocked. No response.
"Do we question the neighbors, or try to find the manager?" Darius asked.
"I think we start with the manager," I replied, looking pointedly over my partner's shoulder toward a large bearded man hurrying towards us.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
Darius motioned to his badge fixed to his belt. "I'm Detective Cutter, and this is Detective Divine."
Suspicion was replaced by worry on the man's face. "Have you found Heather?"
Darius shook his head. "And you are?"
"Cyrus Leach. I'm the manager here."
"Mr. Leach, are you able to let us into Heather's apartment?" Darius asked.
I saw uncertainty settle on Cyrus Leach's face. I've always found guilt an effective motivator.
"Mr. Leach, I know you want to help us find Heather."
Leach nodded. "I'm just a little confused. You people have already been here once."
I fought to keep my face impassive. "How long ago was that?"
The manager pursed his lips. "Oh, 'bout three or four days. Fella workin' all by himself. Didn't like the look of him. Slick as a snot, kinda like a used car salesman." Leach wiped his face with a dirty hand. "Wouldn't have let him in 'cept he flashed me his badge."
"Did you stay in the apartment with him?" said Darius.
"Well, uh, no. He said he was going to be here awhile, and I was workin' on a busted water pipe out front." He shrugged. "He was a cop. If you can't trust them, who can you trust?"
Oh brother. "I don't suppose he gave you a business card, did he?" I asked.
"No, but he gave me his name, Bill Gannon," Leach said, nodding with pride at remembering the name.
Who would trust this fool to run a building? The 'cop' had given the name of a TV detective. I smiled at him. "Wonderful Mr. Leach." I moved a little closer to him and lowered my voice. "Since you've already let 'Detective Gannon' inside, do you mind opening the door for us too?"
The manager thought for a minute, then shrugged. "Guess it wouldn't hurt none seein' you got badges too." Pulling a key ring from his belt he thumbed through dozens of keys. Coming to one etched with the number twelve, he inserted it into the lock and pushed the door open. Then he let out a slow whistle.
Darius and I pushed forward and, with a quick look, saw the apartment in shambles. Sofa cushions were slashed, as were paintings on the wall. Contents of cabinets, drawers, and closets were strewn onto the floor.
"Seems like Bill Gannon made a mess," I said. "If he'd had Joe Friday with him, I doubt he would have done this."
"Got that right," said Darius, drawing his semi-automatic handgun from its holster. "Let's be sure the apartment is clear, then we can look around." He glanced to the wide-eyed manager. "Do you think you could get us a copy of Heather's rental application Mr. Leach?" Eye-balling our firearms, Leach gave a hurried nod and beat a hasty retreat.
Doing a quick sweep of the apartment, we made sure no one was lying in wait to ambush us. Afterwards, we both donned latex gloves and moved through the rooms at a more leisurely pace.
Darius pawed through papers scattered on the roll-top desk while I went to the bedroom.
Various shades of blues and browns should have created a sophisticated, restful room. But this room was in disarray too. Moving to the nightstand, I pulled open the drawer. A tube of hand cream, cotton gloves, flashlight and portable radio were jumbled inside. I found a government leaflet containing emergency preparedness suggestions. "Prepared for an emergency," I whispered. "Good for her."
Closing the top drawer of the nightstand, I slid the second, deeper, drawer open. This drawer was disorderly as well. A couple of sweaters were mixed with scarves and a couple of romance novels. The corner of a VHS exercise video box peeked out from the tangled cashmere tops. I frowned. That didn't make sense. Nobody still used VHS tapes, plus they wouldn't keep it in a nightstand drawer. Picking up the cardboard container, adrenaline kicked my heartbeat up a notch. It wasn't a tape; it was a book inside the video box.
Sliding the book from the container, I saw it was covered with hot pink fabric. I flipped a page open. Neat cursive writing filled the pages. Bingo! A journal. Surprised the diary wasn't on a computer, I just hoped that Heather McCall was a prolific writer. Thumbing to the last entry, I saw it was dated about the time the hospital started trying to contact her.
Big meeting later. I need to run to get rid of the jitters. Part of me is sure it's bad news. The other part of me hopes this meeting changes my life. What will it be? The suspense is killing me!
"Darius," I called out, heading his way, "just before Heather went missing she had a meeting with someone. Her diary indicates it was either bad news or something that could change her life. She said the suspense was killing her. If she's dead, she was right – on all three counts."
"Geez, Maddie, that's cold. Well, at least you came up with something. I've got nothing in the desk." He shut the roll top lid of the desk. "Where'd you find her diary?"
"A drawer in her nightstand, hidden in a VHS exercise tape box." He gave me an incredulous look. "I know, I know. Who would even have a VHS box around?"
I handed the book to Darius and he began to read. Leaving him to peruse Heather's private thoughts, I returned to the bedroom. Checking under the bed, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary.
"Hey, listen to this," my partner called. "It's dated February twenty-third, almost five months ago," he said, sauntering into the bedroom. "I can't believe how things have turned out. My boyfriend is wonderful and sexy. And he likes me too! I about fainted when he kissed me. Who would have thought things would turn out this way!" Darius continued to flip pages and skim. "That entry was followed by a string of hearts. The girl was in love."
"She sounds like a sixteen-year-old," I said.
I'd moved into the bathroom and started pawing through the drawers. "Jackpot! Baby stoppers." I pulled the plastic container containing the colorful birth control pills out of the drawer. "Seems like the boyfriend was getting more than kisses."
We searched the rest of the apartment, but didn't find anything worthwhile.
"I find it weird we didn't find any photos or sense of family or friends," Darius said.
"Yeah, that is strange. At least she enjoyed her lover."
"How are we going to find him?"
"When we came in, I noticed the apartment building doesn't have surveillance cameras, so we'll have to canvass the apartment building and the neighborhood with her picture and see what we get from that. Maybe Heather and Mr. February socialized with neighbors or shopped and ate close to home."
"Okay, but let's not use the photo of Heather we got at the meeting. It's too…Hollywood," Darius said, looking at the eight by ten portrait shot of Heather McCall fastened to his clipboard.
I snorted at my partner. "Why don't you say what you really mean? You look at that shot and all you see are humungous boobs. We n
eed the public to focus on her face."
"Exactly."
We arranged for a patrol unit to stand by at Heather's apartment to wait for a photographer and tech to come from Scientific Investigation Division to document and gather any evidence.
Darius lost the coin toss and he endured the call to Larry-the-Wife-Beater to give him the update. While my partner talked to our boss, I informed the manager what was going on.
Afterwards, we returned to our car. "Let's go to Devonshire Station and pull a DMV photo of Heather off the computer," Darius said. "Then we can hit the neighborhood. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will have seen Heather with her boyfriend."
TIFFANY – 4
"I can't believe your Dad is letting you stay the night," said Tiffany's friend, Penny. The girls stood at a mirror attached to the back of Penny's bedroom door, applying mascara in the late afternoon light. "How will we get rid of your security detail?"
"We'll ditch them."
"That won't work. And we can't take them to the party."
"Don't worry, I've got it covered."
Penny snorted and went to her closet where she pawed through colorful tops. "Do you really think we can shake two cops? Cops whose job it is to keep you safe?" She pulled out a ruby-red satin top and held it up for Tiffany's approval.
Tiffany pumped enthusiastic thumbs up. She reached into her duffle bag and yanked out a suede halter-top adorned with colorful beads and muted feathers. Slipping into the sexy garment that her father would never approve of, she pushed her