Chapter Thirty-Three
John Flaherty felt at loose threads. Sheriff Forbes had not yet authorized the search for Mark Templeton, but John couldn’t let it go. His gut would not let him rest. Katie had eventually kicked him out of bed at four in the morning, kissed him lovingly on the cheek, and told him to figure out whatever was making him toss and turn so she could get back to sleep.
John stood in the kitchen, brooding over the coffee maker while it percolated and grumped and dripped.
Melanie had told him, while sobbing thick Chardonnay tears, that she had not heard from her husband in almost three weeks. She thought he had been traveling for work, had been up in Rochester, New York. The last time he called her, they had argued. She had complained that he traveled too much, she was lonely. Mark Templeton had called her some names (Melanie wouldn’t say, but her cheeks had gone bright red), told her he needed some space, and they had hung up. She had tried calling, texting, but no response.
Three weeks was a long time for radio silence.
John poured his coffee into a souvenir mug from the Franklin Institute, added just a splash of almond milk, and sat down at the small kitchen dinette with his notepad and laptop. It was early still, not even six, but at least he could organize his thoughts.
He made a number of bullet points on his notepad.
Mark Templeton disappears 3 weeks ago—Rochester NY
Hotel—Regency Elite Confirm check in/check out Need airline info/GPS on car No SM updates in that time—Patrick Melanie—whereabouts on night of studio party Went to party with Kim Smith Afterward—Kim dropped her back at her house per her report Confirm—Kim (???)
Studio—3-4 weeks ago, Patrick back from NYC
Dead bird Patrick SM stalking Message on mirror Broken door—night of studio party Connection—Melanie/Kim/Studio—Zumba Regular Zumba teacher?
Coincidence Patrick back from NYC?
Here John paused, setting down his pen, and sipped at his coffee pensively.
The real question was how to find Kim. She wouldn’t answer any of his calls or texts and had gone AWOL from her house. Sheriff Forbes had told him he didn’t have nearly enough evidence beyond “idle suspicion” to obtain a warrant, but John’s gut and common sense told him it wasn’t a reach.
Oh well. He rubbed his hands against his face. Someone at the hotel would be up. He could check about the airlines as well. Thank goodness they kept long hours. He listened intently to Katie’s soft snores echoing through the quiet house. He had some time.
****
She sat in her room on the utilitarian hotel bed, tearing pieces of paper rhythmically as she fumed.
Last night. Goddamn it, last night.
That tribute for Nikita? All those people saying such nice things about her. None of them had known what she had really been like. None of them had been forced to respond at three in the morning to her whims, pick up her dry cleaning all the way across town when she was supposed to be off, help yank her into those skimpy dresses she chose to squeeze into despite her advancing age. Good riddance. Nikita had deserved it after relentlessly pursuing Patrick.
Patrick. Oooooooh God, Patrick. It had been so much better than the one at the Ohio Star Ball. Sex in motion. She doubted she had been the only woman in the room in love with him last night, but she, she had loved him the longest. He would know. He would remember.
It wasn’t fair that bitch got to feel his hands lifting her into the air. He was just a good actor, that was all.
And that fight? She had hung back initially after the showcase, not wanting to crowd him, wanting to find a moment alone with him later once the well-wishers had spoken their piece. But then there had been a murmuring in the ballroom, people whispering “fight”, and she had to see. She had to make sure Patrick was okay. Anita, of course, had already turned and left. That blonde bitch had stormed right past her, not even noticing.
Watching the blood and sweat pour off the two attractive men locked in a primal dance…well, she would be forgiven for feeling a little warm. She was sure Patrick would forgive her. Unless he was into role play…
But she had to focus. She didn’t like that he was still sleeping in the adjoining room beside that woman. That woman who had abandoned him in his hour of need.
She got off the bed, paced the room, biting her fingernails. Stupidstupidstupid. She couldn’t keep letting Anita get him to herself. It wasn’t fair. She had never had a moment alone with him. She was sure if she could just talk to him, tell him about how she felt and how long she had loved him, he would understand. He would feel exactly the same way. She was absolutely sure of it.
Now she just needed to figure out how to get him alone.
****
“Look, Sheriff,” John said and handed over two sheets of paper to Allison Forbes. “He never checked out of the hotel in Rochester. I called. They said after he was supposed to check out, housekeeping went to his room, and his clothes were all gone. They figured he had done a runner and charged the card on file. His car had GPS. I tracked the coordinates, and it’s parked in the back corner of a rest stop outside Scranton. Looks like it’s been there for weeks.”
Sheriff Forbes pushed her salt-and-pepper stick-straight hair out of her eyes and tapped down her silver wire-framed glasses over her eyes from their perch on her head. “Did you call Scranton PD? It’s too far for you to drive up on your weekend off.”
John shrugged. “I don’t mind the drive.”
“I’m sure Katie would.” The sheriff smiled, running her finger over the pages. “How does she feel about you being here when it’s your weekend off?” John was always surprised at how much she knew without ever having asked him. He supposed it was one of the benefits of being in a small department. The only other deputy was currently sitting at her desk, pretending that she was not playing Minehunter like it was 2004.
Sheriff Forbes looked back at John, her bright-blue eyes locked on his. “Call Scranton. Have them look for the car. Report back to me afterward.”