Page 9 of The Last Straw

“What about inside the apartments?” Floyd asked.

“That’s strictly up to the residents. I don’t believe Rachel did, but you can check it out.”

“We’ll need a copy of the security footage on the premises from the last twenty-four hours,” Floyd said.

“I’ll get it for you. You can pick it up on your way out,” Wayne said. “Okay...here we are,” he said, and stopped at the door to apartment 210, unlocked it, then led the way in. The moment they entered the apartment, they heard voices.

“Someone’s talking back there,” Mills said, pointing down a hall off the foyer.

“It’s the television in the bedroom,” Wayne said. “It was on when I came in to do the wellness check. I didn’t mess with anything or touch anything. Her purse and briefcase are here at the entry, just as I saw them when I walked in. There’s partially eaten food on the table in the kitchen, but it’s not breakfast food, and it looks like it’s been there for hours. I also checked to see if her car was still on the premises, and it is. It’s the little red Fiat in the parking garage out back. After that I called the secretary at Addison-Tunnell, who’d asked for the wellness check, to report what I’d found, and then you guys called. That’s the extent of my knowledge about this.”

“Does Rachel Dean have a boyfriend?” Detective Floyd asked.

Wayne shrugged. “I couldn’t say, but I’ve never seen her with anyone in particular. She’s really nice and cute, but she seems focused on her career.”

“We’re going to do a walk-through,” Floyd said. “If we need anything else, we’ll call.”

“What about locking up?” Wayne asked.

“Can we lock it from the inside and just pull the door shut?” Mills asked.

“No, sir,” Wayne said. “How about I leave the passkey with you, and when you’ve finished up, just drop it off when you pick up the security footage.”

“Will do,” Mills said, and took the key, then closed the door behind Dyer after he left.

Floyd glanced around the foyer, then into the living room to their right. Nothing was disturbed, or appeared to be out of place.

“Let’s start in the kitchen,” Floyd said. “You know what to look for.”

Mills saw the utility room and checked it first.

“Hey, there’s a load of laundry in the washer that wasn’t ever put in the dryer,” he said as he came back out.

Floyd pointed to the table. “We’ve got a half-eaten bowl of noodle soup, a dead iPad and the cheese on this plate is hard and curling at the edges. This is not breakfast food. This is from last night, for sure.”

Mills nodded. “Looks like she was reading something on her iPad while she ate, and was interrupted.”

“Maybe she got sick and headed to the bathroom?”

“Dyer didn’t mention any signs of that, but we’re about to find out,” Mills said, and followed the sounds of the television all the way down the hall and into her bedroom.

“The bed is made. Doesn’t look like she slept in it last night,” Floyd said.

Mills stood for a moment, eyeing the setup of the room.

“Why would the TV be on, if she was eating her meal in the kitchen? She obviously wasn’t watching TV in bed, because the bed hasn’t been disturbed since it was made, and the remote is all the way across the room by the television. Nobody watches TV like that.”

Floyd’s eyes narrowed. There was no simple explanation for any of this. He stepped into the bathroom, eyeing the perfectly folded towel and washcloth hanging on the towel rack, then felt the soap inside the shower. It was dry. Everything in the room was pristine.

“She didn’t shower in here last night,” he said, and then eyed footsteps in the carpeting that went in and out of the walk-in closet, but there was nothing obvious to be seen in there, either.

“There’s no blood. No sign of a fight. Nothing has been disturbed. But she’s damn sure gone,” Floyd said.

“Maybe that security footage will show something different,” Mills said.

“I want to look at it now,” Floyd said. “Call Dyer and tell him we’re coming down.”

Mills made the call, and was talking to Dyer as they left, locking the door and heading back to the elevator.

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