Page 84 of The Last Close Call

“I have to tell you, this was a tough one,” Dara said, sitting down at her desk. “This guy’s really good. Too good, in fact.”

“How do you mean?” Jack asked.

“Well, this guy’s way beyond the techniques of your average Joe. It was clear from the start that he’d either hired a professional to help him—someone like me—or he’d had some sort of job that gave him special knowledge. Turned out, it was the latter.”

“The call center.” Jack looked at Rowan. “When he lived here, he was working at a twenty-four-hour call center for a credit card company.”

“Precisely,” Dara said. “Part of his job included taking calls from people who had been victims of credit card fraud and identity theft. I’m sure he heard every possible story from people whose purses or wallets had been stolen. I think he used that knowledge to help him execute his plan.”

Rowan’s stomach filled with dread.

“Also, he’s very smart.” Dara looked at Jack. “But I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

Jack didn’t comment, but Rowan could see the tension in his face.

“It’s not easy to disappear successfully,” Dara said. “Assuming a new identity is difficult, and most people who try to do it have some compelling motivation. Often, they’re on the run from the law or a spouse or someone they owe money to. But a key step that many people overlook is disinformation. It works best to lay a false trail so that when someone goes looking, they waste a lot of time and resources.” She sighed. “I spent two full days following his bogus trail.”

Rowan glanced at Jack, who looked impatient, and she knew he was eager for Dara to get to the bottom line.

“But let’s back up,” Dara said. “You mentioned his last known point of contact in town was his sister four years ago, so I started with her.”

Jack’s eyebrows arched. “You talked to her?”

“Of course.”

“What did you—”

“Relax, I used a pretext,” Dara said. “I said I was a friend of Will’s from UT. I told her I’d just moved back to town and was looking to get in touch with some college friends.”

“Did she buy it?” Rowan asked.

Dara shrugged. “Seemed to. She talked to me over the phone for a while. She said she hadn’t heard from Will in four years and that they didn’t keep up. She told me he moved west after their parents died.”

“That’s what she told me, too,” Jack said. “She said the last time she saw him in person was when they went to the bank and deposited a check from the insurance claim.”

“What insurance claim?” Rowan asked.

“The fire. The house was the bulk of their parents’ estate, and Will got half,” Jack said. “He was making regular withdrawals from his bank account for a while, but then he stopped. The last withdrawal from the account was three and a half years ago at an ATM machine in Bozeman, Montana.”

“That fits with what she told me,” Dara said. “She said Will called her from Montana four Christmases ago, and that was the last time she heard from him. And that’s not the only clue that points to Montana.” Dara turned to her computer and tapped the mouse. Her screen came to life, displaying a background image of a beach at sunset.

“Will Anderson filled out a lease application for an apartment in Missoula.” Dara tapped the mouse and opened a document. It was a form filled with messy block print.

Jack leaned closer to see the screen. “How’d you get hold of this?”

“Another little pretext.” Dara smiled. “But we don’t need to talk about that. You can see he lists an employer here, University of Montana. He said he worked in food services on campus.”

“So... he’s been living in Missoula all this time?” Rowan asked. “Looks like he filled out this form in person.”

“He did. I talked to the leasing office,” Dara said. “He was up there. But he never occupied the apartment. And this employer—the university—says they never heard of him.”

“Then why—”

“Disinformation,” Dara told her. “The lease application generated a credit check in Missoula. He was laying groundwork here. Really, he put a lot of thought into this plan.”

Rowan heard the admiration in Dara’s voice.

“Missoula’s not far from the border,” Rowan said, looking at Jack, who seemed to be transfixed by the handwritten responses on the form.

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