“Liz, I thought we’d never get rid of you.”
“Chicken or fish?”
“Do you have vegetarian?”
“This is a bad idea.”
“We need to get the hell out of here.”
She turned back to Metcalf. “Definitely the place.”
Hannah looked quizzically at them. “If you don’t mind me asking…”
Metcalf raised his iPad and showed her frame grabs he’d made of the video. “There was a wedding reception here, probably sometime in the past couple of years.”
“Last fall,” Kendra interjected.
Metcalf turned back. “Really?”
“Yes. I checked the women’s clothing and shoes against the online catalogues. It was probably no later than last November.”
Metcalf nodded and turned his attention back to Hannah. “Okay. A wedding here last fall. Would you be able to tell us which one it was, based on these photos?”
Hannah looked doubtfully at the screen grabs. “We have so many events here. I’m afraid that—” Her eyes narrowed on one picture. “Wait.”
Kendra craned her neck to see. It was a photo that included the bride’s parents. “Do you know that man? He seemed familiar with the staff.”
Hannah bit her lip. “I wonder if I might take this to the general manager. He may know. That’s him over there.” She motioned toward a stocky man on the other side of the room. “I’ll be right back.”
She took Metcalf’s iPad across the room to a large oak bar where the general manager now stood looking down at his phone. He looked at the iPad screen, furrowed his brow, and said something to Hannah. He glanced up, curtly waved to the group, then left the room.
Hannah handed the iPad back to Metcalf. “I’m sorry, he didn’t recognize him.”
“But you seemed as if you might have.”
“I was mistaken. I’ve never seen him before.”
Lynch smiled. “I find that hard to believe. Just sixty seconds ago you registered a fairly strong reaction when you saw this man. Now you’re telling us—?”
“I’m telling you I don’t recall seeing him.” Hannah suddenly adopted a defensive tone and body language. “If you’d like to leave your information, I’ll see about putting together a list of our October and November weddings from last year.”
“How about just those paid for by John Hollingsworth?” Kendra said.
Hannah looked up with a start.
“Because we know that’s who he is.” Kendra lowered her voice. “And we know you and your manager both know it. Get us the contact information for him and anyone else connected with that wedding. And while you’re at it, you can also tell us why you and your boss thought you needed to lie and protect Hollingworth from an FBI investigation. That’s called obstruction of justice.”
A flash of panic crossed Hannah’s face. “It wasn’t my fault. My manager told me to say that. I’m sorry.”
Metcalf was clearly caught off guard by Kendra’s play, but he quickly jumped aboard. He rubbed his index finger over his lips, and Kendra discreetly nodded. She’d read the lips of Hannah and her boss from across the room. She had been fascinated by the interplay of tongue, lips, and teeth upon gaining her sight and lip reading was an interesting byproduct.
“Hollingsworth is a member?” he asked.
“A founding member. He’s on the board. I can’t believe he’d do anything wrong, but we always try to protect the privacy of our people.”
“Your people?” Lynch shook his head and strode toward the door.
Hannah practically chased after him. “Where are you going?”
“To talk to your GM. If he’s not on the horn to Hollingsworth yet, I’m betting he soon will be. Right?”
Lynch threw open the door to see the general manager standing just outside in the hallway. He was talking on his phone.
He eyed Lynch, Kendra, and Metcalf warily as he continued his conversation. After another moment, he extended his phone toward them. “It’s for you.”
“What?” Kendra asked.
“John Hollingsworth. That’s who you were asking about, wasn’t it?
Metcalf took the phone. “This is Special Agent Roland Metcalf. He listened for a moment. “Yes. Yes. Fine.”
Metcalf cut the connection.
“Well?” Kendra asked.
“Hollingsworth is here now.”
“In town?”
“No. Here here. Playing golf, believe it or not. He’s going to meet us at the bar near the ninth hole.” Metcalf handed the phone back to the manager. “Did you know?”
“Not at all. I was merely calling him as a courtesy to let him know you were asking about him.”
Lynch looked outside. “How do we get to the ninth hole bar?”
The manager made a sweeping motion toward the outer doors. “There’s a golf cart just outside. I’ll take you there myself.”
* * *
“CURB SERVICE. I love it!”
Kendra immediately recognized the bride’s father from the video. He now wore a white goatee on his broad face, and he was dressed in white slacks and a green plaid golf shirt. He stood in front of the open-air bar, where several other men were seated at square tables centered by umbrellas. He shook each of their hands. “John Hollingsworth, pleased to meet you.” He patted the manager on the back. “Thank you, Patrick.”
Patrick was obviously in no hurry to leave, but he took the hint and reluctantly climbed back in the golf cart. He still sat there for a long moment as Hollingsworth motioned for the investigators to join him at one of the outdoor tables several yards away.
“I would ask you to join me for a Bloody Mary, but seeing as you’re all on the clock…” Hollingsworth took a large swig of his drink. “Lovely day, isn’t it? I don’t believe I’ve ever had a visit from the FBI before. Now the SEC is a different matter. I’m certain you’ll be much more intriguing.”
Kendra couldn’t stand any more small talk. “Mr. Hollingsworth, does the name Elena Meyer mean anything to you?”
“No. Should it?”
Metcalf pulled up her photo on his tablet. Probably her driver’s license photo, Kendra guessed. “How about now?”
“Sorry.” Hollingsworth shrugged. “Pretty girl, though.”
“She’s dead.”
Hollingsworth looked up. “What?”
“She was killed the night before last on a street in downtown San Diego,” Kendra said. “Are you sure you don’t know her?”
Hollingsworth took a closer look at the photo. “Positive. That’s terrible. What makes you think that I—?”
Metcalf was already swiping his fingers across the tablet. “She was carrying a video. It may be what got her killed. Take a look.” He once again turned the tablet in Hollingsworth’s direction.
The man’s eyes widened. “That’s my daughter’s wedding reception.”
“Then is it possible your daughter knew the victim?” Kendra asked.
“I … don’t know. Even if she did, I’m almost positive this woman wasn’t at the wedding.”
“We don’t think she was either,” Kendra said. “But there was something about this video that was very important to her. We’re not sure what that could be. Do you think your daughter can help us?”
Hollingsworth seemed baffled. “I’m sure she’ll do whatever she can. But I have a feeling she’ll be as confused as I am.”
Metcalf pulled out his well-worn pocket notebook. “What’s your daughter’s name?
“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Gelson. She and her husband live in Escondido.”
“Where does she work?” Kendra asked.
“She works for a lab. Sennett Laboratories, downtown.”
“Is she there now?”
Hollingsworth pulled out his phone. “I can find out.” He punched a number and after a moment he spoke. “Elizabeth Gelson, please.”
A look of concern crossed his face as he listened. “This is her father. Do you know where I can find her?”
After another long moment he cut the connection.
“What is it?” Kendra asked.
“She hasn’t shown up yet. Her assistant said she’s actually missed a meeting and they haven’t been able to reach her.” He checked his watch. “She should have been there an hour and a half ago. I’ll try her cell.” He punched another number and listened. After a few moments, he put down his phone. “Voicemail. This isn’t like her.”
“Does she have a home phone?” Kendra asked.
“No. She and her husband just use their cells. I would call him, but he’s in China on business.” Hollingsworth stood up. He was still frowning. “Shit. Is there something you’re not telling me? Some reason I should be worried?”
“Nothing we know about,” Kendra said gently.
“You’d probably say that anyway. Why else are you here? For God’s sake, you just told me that some woman was murdered who had my daughter’s video. That’s not supposed to make me feel panicky? Liz is my only child.” Hollingsworth wiped perspiration from his upper lip. “I’m going to her house. I need to know she’s okay.”
Lynch got to his feet. “Mind if we follow you?”
Hollingsworth shrugged. “You’ll have to keep up. I plan on breaking every speed limit until I hear from her.”
“Not a problem,” Lynch said. “Let’s go.”
* * *
HOLLINGSWORTH WAS TRUE to his word as he led them on a thirty-minute ride to the suburb of Escondido that should have taken closer to forty. Lynch and Kendra followed close behind with Metcalf always within sight. Soon they rolled in front of a two-story stucco and clay-tile-roof home in a neighborhood of almost identical houses. They parked and met Hollingsworth in the driveway.
“I called her office three times from the road,” he said jerkily. “Still no sign of her. And she’s still not answering her cell.” He pointed to a white Toyota RAV 4. “That’s her car.”
“Maybe she just got back,” Metcalf offered.
Kendra shook her head. “No. We’d be hearing the clicking of engine parts dilating, like the sounds now coming from all our cars. This vehicle hasn’t been driven in a while.”
If Hollingsworth was already on edge, this sent him into a definite panic. He ran for the front porch, pounded on the door, and rang the doorbell. “Liz, honey? Liz? Liz!”
No answer.
Hollingsworth tried the knob. It was unlocked. He turned back to the others. “She always locks the door. Especially when Jeffrey isn’t home.”
Lynch and Metcalf both pulled out their handguns. “Stay here and let us clear the house, Mr. Hollingsworth,” Lynch said. “After we’ve checked it out, we’ll—”
Hollingsworth bolted inside.
“Or not,” Metcalf said dryly. He and Lynch charged in behind him with Kendra bringing up the rear.
The front door opened directly into the living room. Kendra glanced around. Nothing remarkable there. A nice home entertainment system, karaoke microphones, and a shelf loaded with games. The couple obviously liked to entertain. The room opened into a large kitchen. Unread mail on the counter, along with …
“Keys, mobile phone, and purse on the island,” Metcalf said.
Kendra flipped open a manila folder next to the personal items. “Notes for the morning meeting she didn’t attend.”
Hollingsworth swore and ran for the stairs, Lynch and Metcalf running after him with firearms still drawn.
Kendra paused on the steps before she followed them. She didn’t like this.
But after their quick tour of the garage, exercise room, master bedroom, and what appeared to be a nursery in the making, it was clear there was no one else in the house.
Hollingworth was gazing at the colorful animals stenciled on the nursery walls. “I didn’t know they were doing this yet. They didn’t tell me. Guess they want it to be a surprise.” He moistened his lips. “But where the hell is she?”
“Is there anyone in the neighborhood who could have seen something?” Metcalf asked.
“I don’t know their neighbors. Jeffrey and Liz never talked about them. Maybe…” Hollingsworth was becoming more visibly upset by the moment. “I just … don’t know.”
“It’s too early to start worrying,” Metcalf said soothingly. “There could be any one of a number of explanations. But I’ll get some personnel out here to start canvassing the neighbors. Maybe she’s just having coffee with one of them.”
Hollingsworth nodded. “I have to call her husband … He might know something. I’m not sure if his phone even works overseas.”
“Let’s do that outside,” Metcalf said. “I need to get some more information about your daughter.”
They walked downstairs and Metcalf and Hollingsworth stepped out the front door. Before Kendra could follow them, Lynch closed the door and then whirled back to face her.
“Okay, you’re too quiet,” he said curtly. “And I’ve seen that intent look on your face too many times to mistake it. You know something, don’t you? Something you didn’t want to say in front of her father.”
Lynch would realize that she had been trying to hide the fear and pity she had begun to feel as she’d walked through this house. He knew her so well he could almost read her mind, damn him. Kendra nodded slowly. “I do believe it might be good to question the neighbors. But not to see if she’s been over at one of their houses having a coffee klatch. Elizabeth Gelson was attacked and abducted here in her home this morning, sometime in just the past few hours. We need to look for a silver full-size van or SUV.”
Lynch stared at her. “A silver full-size— Okay, you’re going to have to walk me through this one.”
Kendra led Lynch back to the kitchen area. “It happened here. She was about to eat her breakfast when a person—or persons—barged in. There was a scuffle and they subdued her. They dragged her through this door to the garage and put her in the van, then quickly cleaned up in here. They didn’t want to arouse suspicion.”
Lynch smiled. “Interesting. Go on. You know how much I like watching you do your thing.”
“Can we not do this now?”
His smile disappeared as he saw her expression. “Sorry. Hey, I know these are always real people to you. I’m just a callous bastard who’s been at this so long I sometimes forget the human element and get intrigued by the process.” He wrinkled his nose. “It might be a form of self-protection. Go ahead. I’ll be good.”
“Good? That would be too much of a strain for you. But maybe you’re not so callous.” Kendra walked toward the kitchen dinette table. “There’s a sticky patch on the floor. I heard it when Metcalf stepped on it when we were here before.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Yes, you did. You just weren’t listening.”
“You keep telling me that and I still don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. You made the sound yourself less than thirty seconds ago when your left shoe stepped on the spot.” Kendra kneeled on the floor. “Orange juice residue. But there’s no dirt visible, so it obviously happened recently.”
“She could have just had a spill. No altercation necessary.”
“Her breakfast cereal was also all over this floor.”
“More sticky sounds?”
“No. A faint odor of sour milk, but not so sour that it’s been here for more than a couple hours. I picked it up as soon as we hit the front door. In the garage, there’s a damp mop with these very odors on it. And if you look along the baseboard, you’ll see broken shards that match the bowls and juice glasses on those shelves. There’s no liner in that trash can, leading me to believe that they took the pieces with them. This table was moved. Notice that it’s a little cockeyed, totally out of character with every other piece of furniture we’ve seen in this house.”
“Okay. Very good. But why a silver van?”
Kendra motioned for him to follow her out into the garage where she hit a switch that opened the large roll-up door. The bottom of the door stopped about a foot fr
om the top.
“Just what I thought,” she said. “Not a problem for a normal-sized car, but it’s low enough to clip a van or SUV.”
“How do you know it was silver?”
“Look at the bottom of that door. It scraped some paint. Recently. That’s fresh. You can see it even with the garage door closed.”
“Well, maybe you can.”
“You saw it too. You just weren’t looking.”
He sighed. “Damn, I knew you were going to say that.”
Lynch walked over to the open garage door and inspected it. “You think they brought her out through the garage because it would be too easy to spot them otherwise?”
“With houses this close together, a weekday morning when people are heading out to work and school … The garage seems like the way to go, unless they’re willing to risk half a dozen 911 calls from neighbors. And since they took the time to clean the kitchen, it seems like they were trying to be careful.”
“I agree.” Lynch gazed at the silver paint. “We should get the forensics lab out here to take some scrapings. They might be able to match this paint to a specific make and model.”
Kendra stared at Metcalf and Hollingsworth at the end of the driveway. He was right. It was time to bring out forensics and put the full force of the FBI toward finding Hollingsworth’s daughter. She had just wanted to give him a chance to pull himself together before she told Metcalf that he’d have to tell Hollingsworth what she’d observed. Metcalf was a nice guy, he’d be gentle. But how could you tell a father that his life had changed when the FBI had driven up in a golf cart on this sunny day and asked a few questions that caused a darkness to appear on his horizon? “Why? Why did this happen? It’s too much of a coincidence. First Elena Meyer and now Elizabeth Gelson?” She shook her head in frustration. “And I’m still no closer to finding out who Elena Meyer was and why she died on that street trying to get to me.”
“You are closer,” Lynch said. “We don’t even know if Elizabeth Gelson is dead or not. A kidnapping isn’t murder so don’t bundle them together. And you’re not responsible for either one anyway. Stop being impatient. You’re just not seeing the big picture yet.”