Missing (6 page)

In the front of the building, Maggie had done what she could to get inside the building. A large window was next to the front door. It hadn’t blown out and she could see the fire inside. Pulling the sleeve of her jacket down over her hand, she broke the front window with the butt of her gun. Just then, a blowback of fire came out. Sam pulled her backwards. He had saved her life, but the fire had singed her hair.

Then they heard the sounds from inside. The screams of the surviving adults and children, the cries for help. Then came the final shot. Richard Rivera had killed himself.

It was the screams and the cries of the injured children she couldn’t get out of her mind. Their screams still taunted her. She had wanted to go in there, to try to save some of them. She tried to find a way in, but there wasn’t any. Then, everything went quiet.

After that, all she heard were the cries of the parents of the lost children.

Then the dreams began. She saw the kid’s faces; she heard them cry. Night after night. She couldn’t get them out of her mind. She couldn’t sleep. Work became a stress she could hardly deal with and Lt. Petersen did what he had to do. She understood that. Last night was the first night in two weeks she hadn’t had her dream. It had been the dreams that had worn her down. He forced her to go see a psychiatrist, which was not her choice either. She knew the psychiatrist had talked to Lt. Petersen, which was why he put her on a mandatory two-week leave. She tried talking him out of it, but he didn’t waver. That made her angry. Made her want to get as far away from the situation as she could, which was why she was here now. Maybe the pills had helped. Then again, maybe the physiatrist was right. Maybe she did need to get away from her life.

Maggie sat for a long time and let her mind switch back to the quietness of the night. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was now eight thirty. As she sat gazing outside, something caught her eye. On the other hill, a car pulled into the back of the house. She watched as a man got out of the car, walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out a rolling suitcase, extended the handle and pulled it towards the house. Then he opened the back door and walked inside, closing the door behind him. A moment later, a security light attached to the upper corner of the house came on. The light lit up the back of the house. Had someone bought the house? The light over the back door remained on. She couldn’t see very well, so she walked back into the house and got her binoculars out of the tote bag she used for work. Walking back out to the porch, she opened the door that led to the backyard. She walked to the back part of the yard, stopping just before the edge of the hill.

Even though the man was in the house, she could see no other light coming on. Where had the man gone to? She continued watching for several more minutes, but nothing more happened. Just as she was about to go back in the house, she heard a sound. It was a motor sound. Since she hadn’t heard the car that had just come in, it had to be something bigger. So, she waited and watched. A few moments later, a bus pulled into the front driveway of the house, pulled around to the back of the building, and parked facing the house.

The security light allowed her to see the detail of the bus. It was white and looked to be thirty feet long. There was a scroll marking down the side of the bus and there were six tall, darkened windows on each side. The bus appeared to be some kind of mini bus. Maggie remembered seeing similar busses in Indianapolis. They carted around tour groups. Was that what this is? Had the bed and breakfast started up again and they were staying here?

From the way the bus was parked, she could see the door. It remained closed. A few moments later, the man came out the back door and walked to the right edge of the house. He walked down a set of stairs and disappeared inside the house. A few moments later he came back up and stood to the side of the stairs, and waited. Just then, the door on the bus opened, a man came out, and stood next to the door.

One by one, several people stepped off the bus, each carrying a carry-on bag with rollers. Maggie counted seven people. The man standing at the stairs led the group of seven down the stairs, disappearing inside. Another man came off the bus and followed the last person down the stairs.

Four more people got off the bus, walked to the back door of the house and went inside. Each pulled a carry-on suitcase behind them.

Maggie was confused. If the property was now a bed and breakfast again, why did the people go down to the basement?

CHAPTER EIGHT

LATE FRIDAY EVENING

Washington, DC

James Fitzpatrick pulled his car into the driveway, pushed a button inside his red metallic Mercedes CLS 550 to open the garage door, and then pulled the car in. His wife’s silver Porsche was on the other side of the garage. He turned the car off, and then sat inside the car for a few moments. While the day had gone well, Glen Harper still bothered him. He knew he was doing a good job, but he knew Harper thought otherwise. He wanted the job of Administrator and he was going to get it. Until that day came, he wasn’t sure how he was going to work with Harper. Still, he had gotten good news. Things were going well and he had decided to celebrate at Zanzibar.

Zanzibar is an exclusive Washington club. It has glitz and glamour, and enough privacy that suits him. He met some friends there and before he knew it, the evening was gone. Some of those he had spent time with tonight worked as aides for Senators and Congressmen. Still, none of them talked about their jobs. They just had a good time talking about everything else. Sports, women, favored vacations, but no politics. They had talked and laughed, and, for the first time in days, he’d had a good time. In the process, he had forgotten to call Kim. He was sure she was going to ruin what was left of the evening, if she was still awake.

Kim was his second wife. He had gotten divorced from his first wife, Amy, six years ago, less than a year after they had moved to Washington. Or rather, she divorced him. She hated living here. The job was here, so here is where he wanted to be. She had understood that when they had first moved here, but she didn’t like the Washington lifestyle they had to live in. He had tried to reason with her. He wanted her to share his joy of getting the job he had wanted for a long time, but, after a few months, she couldn’t take it anymore. She had taken their three children, two girls and a boy, back to their house in Denver. Then she filed for divorce. Irreconcilable differences, was what she told the judge.

He rarely sees his children now, even though he is supposed to see them every other weekend. His schedule rarely permits him to make a trip, or have them come out to Washington, especially during the summer. He doubts his ex-wife cares whether he sees their children or not. He tries to keep in touch with them with phone calls as often as he can, and then there are the birthday cards and Christmas cards with money inside. Of course, he pays alimony every month. Their oldest son Aaron will be going to college next year, Carol the following year, and Megan two years after that. He will be paying for their education too. He doesn’t mind, though. What bothered him was how Amy nagged him into paying for their entire education, instead of splitting it as they were supposed to do. Oh well, if that was the only way of being a part of his children’s lives, it was the least he could do. So, at forty years old, this was all he had of a family.

Finally, he got out of the car and closed the door, then walked into the house. The house is a large three story Colonial located in Chevy Chase. The house sits on a hill and has a long driveway. He liked the house because it offered the privacy he liked. Of the two houses they owned, this was the only one he wanted in the divorce settlement. Amy got the house in Denver and she was very happy with the arrangement.

His house was very spacious inside. Maybe too spacious. There are six bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, but only he and Kim live here. They rarely have overnight company. A dinner party once in a while, with a few people who might stay over if they are too drunk to leave, but that was about it.

He also had a very spacious office, which he keeps locked. There is also den, a formal sitting room and a couple of rooms upstairs he had no idea what Kim was using them for, nor did he care to know. Lately, Fitzpatrick found himself hiding from her in his locked office. He didn’t bring a lot of work home, but just wanted the privacy.

Fitzpatrick walked into the kitchen and put his car keys on the counter. The kitchen consisted of chrome appliances, expensive marble countertops, and cherry cabinets. To him, the cabinets made the kitchen look too dark. But, the kitchen was Kim’s doing. When they were married, she wanted the kitchen remodeled, so he paid to remodel it.

The house was quiet, although he wasn’t surprised. It was midnight. He was sure Kim had finally given up and gone to bed. At least he hoped so. With so much on his mind, he didn’t want to deal with her. Not tonight anyway. He walked through the kitchen into the great room. A single lamp gave a soft amber glow to the room. As he looked around the well-appointed room, he had to admit, overall, Kim had done a good job decorating. It had cost him a lot of money. Because of his money, she had made the house better, more luxurious. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could afford her in the lifestyle he had originally bragged to her about. He was sure that was the only reason she was attracted to him. Since then, she was having too much fun spending what he was making.

“
You’re late,” Kim said from the top of the stairs.

Fitzpatrick didn’t look at her. “I had a lot to take care of,” he lied, placing his briefcase down next to the couch. He sat down on the couch and stretched his legs out.

She walked down the stairs. Kim was only five foot five, but she was sleek and slender. Her straight silky blonde hair hung down past her shoulders. She was ten years younger than he was, but looked even younger than that. Kim was beautiful and didn’t wear much make-up. She just didn’t need it. Her bare looks turned the heads of any man she walked passed. Sometimes he wondered why she had ever picked him. Had he struck her as more than he was? She had to have been impressed with the job he had and the hope of how high he would go in the future. Kim liked the Washington society and hit on him the moment she found out where he worked. His ex-wife had ragged on him for years to be more assertive in getting what she wanted him to accomplish. Then, when he went after what he wanted, she divorced him. Amy wanted him to run for Governor, he didn’t. Kim, on the other hand, also wanted him to assert himself, but for a different reason. The higher a position he held, the higher the society she could circulate in, and, of course, the more money he would make that she could spend.

“
I’m sure you did. Have a bad day?” she asked when she had gotten to the bottom of the stairs.

“
Lately, everyday is a bad day.” Especially when he had to deal with Harper. He took off his suit coat, and laid it across the back of the couch. He looked over at her. She was wearing a pale pink sheer short nightgown. He sucked his breath in as he looked at her. The nightgown didn’t hide much. Her body was as perfect as her face.

“
Hungry? I think Hannah fixed you a plate. It’s in the microwave.”

“
Sounds good.” He had mostly drunk his dinner tonight and he was a bit hungry. At least food would help burn off the alcohol. With Kim, he had to be alert.

Fitzpatrick got up and walked back into the kitchen. He opened the microwave and found a plate sitting inside. He took off the cover, closed the door, and then pressed the reheat button. Then he walked over an upper cabinet and got out a glass. A wine cooler was located in one of the lower cabinets. He opened the door and pulled out a bottle of pinot noir Cheverny. He didn’t care what wine went with what food this was his favorite. And, he didn’t care that he had already drank more than he should have tonight. By the time he opened the bottle, poured himself a glass of wine, the microwave bell went off. He placed the glass on the breakfast table sitting in the corner, then went to the microwave and took out the now hot plate.

He sat the plate on the table, got a fork out of the drawer, and then sat down. Kim walked into the kitchen, sitting down across from him. She crossed her left leg over her right and the silky nightgown slid higher up on her leg. He glanced at her long legs, and then looked back at his meal. He knew what she was doing, and it wasn’t what most men would think. At best, she was manipulative. He bought into it in the past, but not now. When she did things like this, she didn’t want him; she usually wanted something else. Most of the time she wanted more money.

“
Are you going to be home this weekend?” she asked.

Fitzpatrick stuffed a piece of lasagna in his mouth. He loved Italian food and was glad when Kim had hired the slightly portly Italian cook, who cooked a lot of Italian meals. He relished the bite before answering.

“
I’m afraid not,” he finally said.

Kim let out a long sigh, folding her arms across her chest. “Where are you going now?”

Her voice had an edge to it that make Fitzpatrick cringe. He put down his fork and looked at her.

“
I have to follow up on the hurricane that hit Texas a month ago. I have to make sure needs are being met. I am the head of the Disaster Operations. So, I have to follow-up and make sure everything is going as well as they are telling me. It’s my job, Kim, you know that.”

“
Yes, I know what your job is,” Kim said, her voice raising an octave. “What I don’t like is that you are constantly gone on weekends. I would like to go somewhere for the weekend. Have some fun, instead of sitting here in this big empty house.”