Page 27 of Inevitable Dream

“Who wants to start?” Falcon asks.

“I’ll go. Wire and I split up Mitchell’s life into home and work. I’m looking into his family, friends, and neighborhood. I’m saving family for last. If this guy is on the run, his family isn’t going to give him up. Mitchell is not tight with his neighbors. Mainly keeps to himself. They see him come home late most nights, up until the night he disappeared. His neighbor Pete owns the house across the street from him, said that the next morning, his wife reported him missing, Mitchell came home but didn’t go inside. He made it all the way to the front porch, took a phone call, and got back in his car,” I say, pointing to the page with Pete’s interview.

Falcon scans the page. “Just got in his car and left, huh?”

“Not quite. He went into the garage first. He didn’t open it like you normally would. He went in through the side door. I think to keep his wife from hearing him come in. Pete says Mitchell was in and out within minutes and gone,” I report. “I want to get in that garage to take a look around.”

Falcon nods. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Mitchell’s wife, Mary, hasn’t left the house since reporting him missing. Her neighbor Emmanuela goes in to check on her, makes sure she eats, but says Mary is worried sick about her husband. It’s not this guy’s MO. Mitchell’s a ‘good guy.’” I use air quotes.

He raises his brows. “You don’t think he is?”

“I’ve seen enough to reserve judgment until I know more,” I say, and Wire makes a sound that says he agrees.

“So, the guy goes to work, like always. Comes home at the same time every night. Except that night, when he gets a mysterious phone call, which puts Mitchell back in his car, and he goes MIA,” Falcon sums up.

“One more thing. Mitchell and Mary have a daughter. She’s in her midtwenties, and no one seems to be able to get hold of her, but her mother hasn’t reported her missing,” I tell them, making Falcon perk up and tap his pen on the table.

I shuffle through the papers in the file and pick out the photo of Remmi Anne Fontaine. She’s a looker. Totally the girl next door, with long, shiny, chestnut hair that’s straight as an arrow, parted in the middle, with sun-kissed skin and a dusting of barely noticeable freckles on her nose. In the photo, she’s wearing jeans and a plaid shirt and is nuzzling a puppy that seems to adore her.

“What the fuck!” Wire swears. “Why the fuck didn’t her own mother get in touch with the cops?” He’s annoyed, and I get it. You get riled when you discover a mother losing her mind over her husband but not their kid. Doesn’t make a lot of sense.

“What do we know about Remmi?” Falcon asks calmly.

“Not a lot. Graduated top of her class. She’s an art major who prefers the country life and moved out to a cottage an hour away from her parents, where she makes and sells her own pottery and shit. She’s popular in the county and makes a decent living for herself. Sings at a bar every now and again, more for fun than for the money. She’s well-liked. No one had a bad word to say about her,” I say with a shrug.

“What? So, Remmi goes missing and no one gives a shit?” Wire is raising his voice and becoming more heated. “Anyone heard from her?”

“I asked around. Her voicemail says she’s taking some time off and would be in touch when she returns. The owner of the bar says he got an email saying she was taking a break. No close friends to speak of. The woman’s a loner, mostly,” I reply.

“They got his daughter. That’s why Mitchell went willingly,” Falcon says.

“Who is ‘they’?” I ask.

“That’s a good question.” Falcon glances from Wire to me. “We’ve got to get to the mother.”

“She won’t leave her house and she refuses to see anyone but Emmanuela. She hardly returns calls from the cops,” I say.

“I’ll do a background check on Emmanuela,” Wire states. He’s about to leave when Falcon grabs his arm.

“Tell me about the company he worked for and what Mitchell’s job entailed,” Falcon orders.

Wire tosses out a hand toward the file. “It’s all in there. You can read it while?—”

“Stop,” Falcon says. “You’re losing focus, and that’s not going to work out well for anyone. You did the research. I want to hear it from you. Then we decide next steps. Understood?”

Begrudgingly, Wire sits down, scraping his chair against the floor. “The company gathers information from the stock exchange and other worldwide financial organizations for research only. They’re looking at developing a method of predicting future financial growth opportunities. Mitchell is an analyst and a damn good one. He has a genius IQ and sees patterns that no one else seems to be able to. He was hired by GWO International over ten years ago. Valued employee, likes to work alone, has a set schedule, and they let him have whatever he needs to get the job done because he gets the job done. He’s been working on their new venture for the past two years, then poof, he’s gone.”

“The company’s reaction?” Falcon asks.

“They want him back at any cost. They’re the ones who hired us, and the CEO will open any door he can to make it happen. The entire company will give us anything we need,” Wire responds.

“Right. Then Wire, do your background check on Emmanuela. Then I want you to find a way to get to the wife, Mary. You’ve got to do it so that if anyone is watching the house, it doesn’t look like she snitched. Come up with a plan, then pull me in,” Falcon decides. “In the meantime, Rebel, go to GWO and copy all the employee files. Speak only to the CEO and get that info back to our office. Wire’s going to write a code to see if anything weird sticks out.”

“On my way,” I say, getting to my feet. Falcon does the same and leaves. Wire gathers up papers before tossing them back into the file, except for Remmi’s photo. He lays that carefully on top. “Are you okay?” I ask Wire.

“Yeah,” he replies curtly.

---