Page 19 of Long Gone

“When was the life insurance policy taken out?” I asked. “And who was the beneficiary?”

He chuckled. “We considered her as a suspect for his potential murder too, but she has an alibi for the entire day.”

“That must mean she’s the beneficiary—no surprise since she’s his wife—but when was it taken out?”

“Two months before his disappearance. For a policy that large he had to have a full physical and he was the picture of health.”

“And for that kind of potential payout, Clarice Burton could afford to pay someone to do the job for her.”

He sat back in his chair and chuckled. “I thought she was your client.”

“She is, but I was hired to find out what happened to Hugo Burton. Clarice wants the information to declare him dead. It would be pretty stupid of her to hire me if she were the one behind it. Also, while she wants proof that he’s dead, my goal is to find out what happened to Hugo Burton. Period. I just need hard evidence. And preferably a body, either dead or alive.”

He laughed. “Dead or alive. That’s cold, Adams.”

I didn’t respond to his comment, getting back to the topic at hand. “What about the three investors in the small property southeast of Wolford? You said there was no crossover between the investors on the two properties?”

“No. I doubt the Sunny Point investors would have given him more money for a second project when they were so frustrated over his lack of progress on the first.”

“Hugo didn’t ask them for more money?”

“No, but I suspect he was planning to before he left. The manufacturer he was in talks with needed more land, so his realtor was in the process of coming up with a list of properties Hugo could purchase to expand. The realtor was still working on the list.”

I took a moment to consider what to ask next. “I know Hugo’s business documents were missing, but did you find anything useful when you searched his office? A planner? Post-it notes?”

“Nope. Like I said, we’re pretty sure Burton took it all with him.”

“So he took his passport and all his legal documents, but no luggage?” My disbelief came through loud and clear.

He gave me a lazy shrug and grin. “As you said, an opportunity presented itself and he took advantage. That was our working theory too.”

“If his car was at the airport and you found no evidence of him in the surveillance footage inside the airport, then how did he get away?”

“We weren’t entirely sure on that part, but our best guess is he had the car dropped at the airport as a decoy. We think maybe he purchased a junker car and used it to drive somewhere else.”

“If he left the country, wouldn’t there be a record? Did he have forged documents?”

“We’re thinking he drove down to Mexico, crossed the border with a fake ID, and then flew to wherever he was going from there.”

It wasn’t a preposterous idea. It was plausible, but it just didn’t feel right. Then again, the only person I’d met with any connection to Hugo was his wife, and she’d deceived me about the state of their marriage.

“I keep hearing how important his kids are to him. I suspect y’all confirmed that.”

“We did. And they were. He coached all their sporting teams, put them to bed when they were little, and did nearly weekly activities with them, both together and one on one.”

“Do you really think he’d walk away from that?” I asked without any hint of accusation. Jones had interviewed countless people on this case. He’d have a better idea than I would.

His face softened, and he sat back in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “If I’m honest, that’s that part that makes me wrestle with him fleeing. By all accounts, that man lived for his kids. It’s hard to marry the idea of him running off forever with the man who was obsessed with his children. A few family members say they think he would have divorced his wife if he could have handled not spending every day with them. I confess, there are times when I wonder if we got it wrong.”

His statement caught me by surprise. “When we started this interview you told me that you were sure he ran off. Now you’re saying you don’t believe that?”

“Oh, the evidence tells me he ran off. But…” Some of the confidence left his eyes as he held my gaze. “I’ve had a daughter since Hugo Burton disappeared.”

I nodded, understanding sinking in. “You’re a father and you’ve experienced that connection.” Now I understood why he was so eager to meet me.

A pang shot through me as I thought of my own father. I suspect the thought of losing me wouldn’t have stopped him from running off if it meant saving himself. I hoped Detective Jones loved his daughter more than my father had loved me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I also suspect,” I continued, grateful that my voice didn’t waver, “you had time to let the case simmer. Given those two factors, you now look at it through different eyes, a different lens.” I held his gaze. “Do you still believe Hugo Burton ran off and abandoned his kids?”

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