Into the Light (The Light #1)(103)

“I’d rather do this off the record, so no last name. But I want to help that lady. I work at a dry cleaner on Grand Boulevard in New Center. Martin’s. Can you meet me there?”

My body tingled with excitement. “Yes, I understand. I won’t use your name. I’ll be there in less than half an hour.”

“It’s kind of busy this time of day, but there’s a flat lot two blocks away behind Market on State Street.”

Behind Market on State, I made a mental note.

“Thank you, Paul, I’ll be right there.”

It was probably all the coffee and the lack of food, but my grip tightened on my steering wheel as I approached Market. It wasn’t a street, but a big building filled with different establishments. It had another name, but people who were familiar with the area called it the Market. Over the years, locals shortened that to just Market. Turning off the main street, I turned onto State. In this area of town it was more of an alleyway than a street. The flat lot had an attendant.

Rolling down my window, I asked, “May I park here?”

“Five bucks for an hour, thirty for all day,” the man said, handing me a ticket.

As I put the ticket on the dashboard, the screen in my car lit, indicating a new text message. Out of habit, I hit the button for my car to speak.



Text message from Tracy Howell: I SPOKE WITH PAUL SWIVEL, THE MAN WHO FOUND THE WOMAN LAST NIGHT. HE SAID HE’D THINK ABOUT GIVING YOU A STATEMENT. I’LL KEEP YOU POSTED.



As I looked back up at the attendant, the large black man suddenly seemed vaguely familiar.

There was a sharp pain in my neck and my world went black.





CHAPTER 30


Bernard


I sent another text message to Stella; that made four. She’d never refused to answer me before. I knew I’d been a hard-ass about the deadline, but there were other stories out there that she could research. She said it wasn’t because of Mindy that she continued to pursue these leads, but I knew in my gut it was. I also knew that if she could connect the dots—if there were dots to connect—it’d be one hell of a story. That’s why I’d given her so much time. It wasn’t as if I had to answer to anyone. She worked for me. I worked for the station, but WCJB wouldn’t question my allocation of hours.

I picked up the desk phone and called Foster. “Have you heard from Stella today?”

“No, she’s probably checking out one of her leads. She’s been getting excited about things coming together.”

“Has she told you any of it?” I asked.

“Some. I know she was checking out properties owned by Entermann’s Realty. There was something about a private landing strip in Bloomfield Hills. That’s all she’s shared.”

“I wish she’d text me back.”

“Bernard, she’s not Mindy. She’s smart and has a good gut. Besides, she’s got Richards looking out for her. Give her some space. She’ll text back.”

I rubbed my temples. He was probably right. Mindy’s disappearance had us all on edge. “Hey, speaking of Richards, what did you learn about him?”

“Nothing that we don’t already know. There was that one quirky thing about a utility bill on some mansion, but none of it checked out. Stella told me his parents were deceased. That checked out. Everything else was pretty boring.”

I shook my head. “Fine. If you hear from her, let me know.”

“Sure thing.”

Meetings, calls, and general business ensued. It was nearing five in the evening when Foster knocked on my door.

“I’m heading out. I never heard from Stella, have you?”

Shit!

“No, hang on a second. Let me call her again.” I’d already called three times and had no idea the number of text messages I’d sent. Just like the other three times, the call went straight to voice mail. I shook my head.

“What about—?” Foster asked.

“Richards? I’ve got his number here someplace.”

Foster placed a Post-it note on my desk. “I’ll admit it, the Mindy thing has me worried too. Stella’s a smart girl. I’m sure everything is fine. I’d just like to know.”

Nodding, I dialed the number on the Post-it note. Richards answered on the third ring.

“Richards.”

“This is Bernard Cooper. I was wondering if you’ve spoken to Stella today.”

“This morning, why?”

“When this morning?”

“Why? Where did you send her?” Richards’s volume rose.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t send her anywhere.” My eyes met Foster’s.

“Sure you did,” Dylan Richards replied. “She got a call early this morning. I don’t know, like three o’clock or something. Hell, I don’t remember. I went back to sleep.”

My heartbeat quickened. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t call her at three in the morning.”

“Well, f*ck, someone did. She took off.”

I shook my head. “And you have no idea where she went?”

“Listen,” Richards said, modulating his voice. “Tell me she said something about wherever she went once she got to the station.”