Rick Mofina - Into the Dark

Amber should have been in the reception area by this time, Claire thought, settling in at her desk, turning her computer on and waiting for Alice to bring her the agenda and patient list. Claire took her first sip of coffee when she heard Alice hang up and enter with the day’s list. Amber’s name had been crossed off. Claire looked at her for an answer.

“She didn’t confirm,” Alice said. “I just tried reaching her at home and on her cell and work numbers.”

“That’s unusual. Amber never cancels without telling us.”

“I know. What should we do?”

Claire tapped her pen to her chin.

“Let’s play it safe.” Claire got her wallet and a business card. “I’ll give Officer Freeman a call and let her know, just as a precaution.”

Claire got Freeman’s voice mail and left a message, but it was enough to put her and Alice somewhat at ease as they carried on with the morning.

Throughout the day, Claire’s concern grew as the Amber question remained unresolved. They’d heard nothing from her and, after a few hours with no response from Officer Freeman, Claire called San Marino P.D. She was put through to a duty sergeant and explained her unease.

“Freeman’s on a course in San Diego, but let me look up that case file.” Claire heard the sergeant typing on his keyboard, taking a moment to read the most recent summary. “All right, I’m up to speed. So basically given her circumstances and because she’s missed an appointment, you’re requesting we check on her welfare?”

“Right.”

“Okay, that address is in Alhambra, I’ll flag this with the Alhambra P.D., but I have to tell you, they’ve got a major apartment complex fire going. They’ve put a lot of traffic units on it. In fact, we’re supporting with some of our units. So it might be a while.”

In the back of her mind Claire clung to the hope that Amber would return Alice’s messages. At least the police had been alerted, Claire assured herself throughout the afternoon. After her last patient session of the day had ended, Claire gathered her things, instructed Alice to call her with any word on Amber, then headed home.

Claire got as far as the parking lot when she remembered she had to pick up a lamp. The antiques shop was in Alhambra and not far from her office. After paying for her lamp and putting it in her car, Claire’s thoughts returned to Amber.

Since she was in Alhambra, she should go to Amber’s house.

In the car she turned on her laptop and inserted her flash drive to review the file for Amber’s address. Was she crossing an ethical line? Visiting patients outside of the office was frowned upon. Claire stared at the address.

Am I going too far?

She reached for her cell phone and tried Amber’s numbers without reaching her.

Claire then tried the San Marino P.D. again and got a different sergeant this time. Like the previous one, he had to look up the status.

“No, apparently Alhambra P.D. did not get to it yet,” the sergeant said, “but they indicate here that it’s moved up the call list. I know they’ve had their hands full all day with the fire, and now they’ve had a bomb scare at a school. Meantime, maybe you could have a friend or relative check?”

Claire thanked the sergeant and hung up.

She had to make a decision.

Given everything that had happened with Amber’s case: Eric’s attack, the rage in his face, his attempt to drag Amber back into the relationship, the fact she was considering it- and now I can’t reach her- it was time to do something.

Claire keyed Amber’s address into her GPS, then started her car.

Alhambra, California

As Claire guided her Corolla onto Amber’s street, reality eclipsed her reasoning for being there.

This could be a dumb thing to do .

Battling her growing embarrassment, Claire challenged her instincts, asking herself over and over with each house number she counted: Was coming here the right thing to do?

Yes, damn it, yes!

It was the only thing to do to allay the fears that were twisting in her stomach. Those images from the worst times of her life that had recently flashed in her mind were like harbingers. She knew what happened when people did nothing in the face of looming trouble.

My mother, brother and father died because no one got involved. I can’t let this go. I can’t ignore everything that’s happened with Amber .

She stopped in front of Amber’s address, shifted into Park, turned off the engine, got out and took a quick read of the house.

It was a sprawling ranch-style bungalow that sat back from the street on a large lot. The lush landscaping with shade trees and thriving flower beds gave the property the sedate air of a well-maintained park, she thought as she took the winding cobblestone walk. Noting the small yard sign for the security company she came to the door and rang the bell.

Claire remembered how Amber had said she was fortunate to be house-sitting for friends, the generous owners of such a beautiful home.

A long moment passed without a response.

She rang the bell again, then knocked, hard.

Nothing.

A neglected newspaper jutting from the mailbox offered her a glimpse of the headline about the Dark Wind Killer stalking L.A. The reality of a monster out there pricked at her anxiety.

Claire took out her cell phone and called Amber’s number. She heard it ringing inside before it went to voice mail. Claire hung up, stepped carefully into the shrubs under the nearest window, pressed her face to the glass, cupped her hands near her eyes and looked into the house. She saw the dim forms of a sofa, a table, a chair, then heard a soft noise from inside.

Oh, no, I could have triggered the alarm system or something. Goodness, if someone reports me, I’ll be arrested.

Claire stepped out of the shrub and pressed her ear to the door and held her breath.

She heard voices inside.

Someone’s in there. Why won’t they answer?

She knocked hard on the door but no one responded.

She went around to the side of the house, along the knee-high hedge that bordered the driveway where Amber’s small Chevy was parked. As she neared the back of the house she saw a metal gate with a lockbox.

“Hello!” she called.

Nothing. No dog, no movement of any sort.

She tested the latch, and to her surprise the steel door swung open. She walked along the patio stones and knocked on the back door. No response, yet she heard voices.

Someone’s in there .

Once more, Claire peered through a window that gave her a clear view. She saw the tiled floor of the kitchen, the granite counters, wood cabinets, a cooktop, but no people. Yet she heard sounds and they were louder now. Frustrated, she knocked again and tried the door handle.

It was unlocked.

This is weird.

Claire inched inside, her eyes scanning the kitchen. The mild, pleasant smell of dish soap lingered.

“Hello, Amber! It’s Claire Bowen!”

“…I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” A man’s deep voice stopped Claire’s pulse for the seconds it took her to realize his voice and the voices she’d been hearing were coming from the radio on the kitchen counter. It was tuned to a talk radio show. “…damn straight I’d tell those fat cats in Sacramento that I would not even consider a tax for…”

Claire took a small breath.

The kitchen table was clear, the counters gleamed, the sink held one glass that had been rinsed. Otherwise, it was empty of dishes, and tea towels were hung neatly. Nothing seemed amiss as she moved to the living room.

“Hello, Amber, it’s Claire Bowen. Are you home?”