Page 19 of Facing the Enemy
“Haven’t discovered a thing until tonight. My involvement in investigation is in the past. I’ll leave it to the pros.”
Risa had her game on. She wouldn’t admit a thing that I might question. Why? Was I reading more into her avoidance of my questions and lack of eye contact? “Just checking.”
“Do you think the killer is passing out kudos?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault.”
“Neither is it yours, but you’re not convinced. Before we get to the Mercurys’, what’s my role?”
“A friend who’s accompanying me.”
“All right. No need to alert them of my FBI ID. I’ve recorded questions on my phone.” I nodded at my device. “Send them to your burner.” Saying “like old times” nearly fell from my mouth.
She handled the transfer. “What are you and Jack working on, or can’t you say?”
The kidnapping case had been all over the media. “The Addingtons’ baby kidnapping.”
“The baby could have died without routine care for CF. When I read about it, I thought the biological parents and the adoptive parents were both victims. Any leads?”
I swung her a grin. “Really, Risa?”
She laughed, the musical delight I’d longed to hear. “It’s hard to give up old habits. I’m sure you and Jack will make solid arrests.”
I parked in front of the Mercurys’ home. The man was worth millions. Lived in an upper-class neighborhood but not elite like I expected. Two-story home, modern architecture, and lots of windows as though the owners had nothing to hide. Caroling angels and a manger scene decorated the front yard, and white lights lined the roof.
While many people encouraged goodwill toward men during the Christmas season, others seized the opportunity to rob and destroy. Somewhere in my Christianity, a bit of cynicism had taken residence about this time of year. Need to shred doubts about God caring for His people, but first I needed to make peace with what happened nineteen years ago on Christmas Eve.
The clock moved toward 8p.m. when Risa and I approached theMercurys’ wreathed front door. Risa rang the doorbell, our routine only months ago. A middle-aged man, average height, with fiery-red hair and a matching trimmed beard, answered the door.
“Mr. Mercury?” Risa said. “I’m Professor Risa Jacobs, Carson’s creative writing prof.”
“Yes.” He startled. “Is Carson all right?”
“I believe so. Do you and your wife have a moment to talk?”
“What’s wrong that our son’s college professor shows up on our doorstep?”
Risa waved away the question. “He requested to turn in his project early due to a road trip. I have questions about it and thought you could answer them. He’s not picking up on his phone, and I don’t have your numbers. I want to make sure his grade is accurate.” She pointed to me. “This is Gage Patterson, a friend.”
Ethan Mercury studied us a moment. “Carson is on a road trip in the Colorado Rockies with his buds.”
“I’m sure he’s enjoying every minute,” Risa said.
Mercury shook my hand and gestured us inside. Gorgeous home. High ceilings. Open space. Neutral and gray colors. Huge plants, probably not real. We were seated in a living area with a white-stone fireplace that hit the two-story mark. Four stockings hung from the mantel, and a nine-foot Christmas tree stood in the corner. Welcoming. Homey.
Mrs. Mercury, a blue-eyed blonde, entered the room with a chubby baby and introduced herself as Lynn. “And this is Caleb. He insists bedtime is somewhere in the future.” The woman eased onto a sofa beside her husband.
“Lynn, this is Carson’s English professor, Risa Jacobs, and her friend Gage Patterson. The professor is trying to locate Carson about his final paper.” Ethan swung his attention to Risa. “I’ll get him for you.” He pulled his phone from his jean pocket and pressed in numbers. After a moment he spoke. “Carson, this is Dad. Give us a call. Your English professor wants to talk to you.” He set the phone on his knee. “Who knows what those guys are doing, and they could be out of range.”
“Can I have his number?” Risa pulled a notepad from her purse and jotted down Ethan’s response. “Thanks. He told me about the road trip.”
Lynn patted the baby’s back. “It was a last-minute thing. He’ll be gone until Christmas Eve, so if you aren’t able to talk to him sooner, I’ll have him contact you then. When I peeked in his room earlier, I saw he took his laptop, or we’d pull up his assignment.”
The Cloud would have his project, but I wouldn’t mention it.
Risa handed her a business card from the college. “Appreciate this. Do you expect to hear from him?”
“We’re trying to give him space and let him mature. Knowing Carson, he’ll call us with all he and the guys are doing.” Lynn wound a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. “And nothing’s wrong? He raves about your class.”
A smile spread over Risa’s face. “Your son is a gifted writer. I see he’s an English major.”
