Lisa would have given the world to assuage their fears, written so clearly on their face. in their eyes and in their voices. False hope was no hope and she wouldn’t couldn’t do that to them. The outline of the young woman they’d painted was of a responsible loving daughter. She checked in once a day, sometimes twice if she had something exciting to impart.
Therefore, when she hadn’t called for the second day and their calls to her went unanswered, there was likely a problem. A problem of a serious nature. And although a part of her hoped that wasn’t the case, she had doubts. Her gut was rarely wrong.
She’d followed up by making a wellness call to the young woman’s home, found the front door slightly ajar and they’d entered, hands-on guns.
As she and her partner worked in tandem moving from room to room, they found nothing amiss, nothing was damaged moved or strewn about. The detached house stood quiet, empty, neat tidy and very clean. Was it too clean? Was she the house-proud type where everything had a place and she tidied up daily?
As they made their way through the vacant home, searching each room in turn, nothing screamed out, ‘look at this’. Finally entering a room off the bedroom, apparently used as an office, they found the computer on and using a tissue, Stella moved the mouse which brought up the page she’d been working on. It was a summary of the debts of a local business…it didn’t look good from the red at the bottom of the page.
There was a note attached and clicking on it she read, ‘meeting at 4 at Jenkins office to discuss a plan of action’ one he won’t like but the only recourse I can suggest.’ It was dated two days ago. It was something, Lisa decided wondering if a disagreement had ensued.
Perhaps there was a lead here, but it didn’t answer why her front door was unlocked and ajar or why her car was parked in the driveway or why only her purse and keys seemed to be missing. They’d checked the car, it was locked and cold, so it hadn’t moved recently.
Making a cursory glance through the closet, everything hung neatly in place. She wasn’t a clothes horse, but there were seasonal items hanging in tandem. It was perplexing then that a pair of winter boots were missing…it was late spring, and they hadn’t had much rain, the ground was parched if anything.
Returning to the front closet, she checked to see what, if anything she could surmise from the jackets hanging in it since it was slightly open as if an attempt had been made to close it, but it hadn’t quite caught. One empty hanger. ‘Interesting’, she thought.
Her closest friend was a neighbour two doors down. They were of an age and spent time together so she would question the friend to find out what she knew, if anything, then file her missing person’s report.
A chill ran the length of her spine. This one worried her. It had the makings of something she’d long forgotten. A case that went cold five years back and from the M.O. she was now witnessing, held a ring of cold calculation, the feel she’d had back then, on an as yet still-unsolved case.