Rick Mofina - Into the Dark

“I should be going.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” Robert said.

“I should be going.”

“I’ll see you out,” Claire said.

She walked with Julie outside to the driveway.

“That seemed sudden,” Claire said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Julie got behind the wheel of her car and started it. “I’m sorry, Claire, we’ve both got a lot going on.”

“Is there something more you wanted to tell me?”

Julie shook her head.

“We’ll say a prayer for Amber,” Julie said. “I’ll let you know if I hear any news and you promise me you’ll do the same.”

Julie took a long look at Claire’s house. Lights went on in different rooms as Robert moved through it.

“Promise me, Claire.”

“I promise.” Claire lowered herself and hugged Julie, thanking her again.

As Julie Glidden drove off through Claire’s San Marino neighborhood she called a number on her cell phone.

“Thorsen,” the man answered.

“Milt, Julie in California. Do you have anything more on Bowen for me?”

“A little-his real name is Leon Richard Elliott.”

Julie’s stomach tightened.

Alhambra and Downey, California

Tanner and Zurn left Camarillo where the death doll had been placed and drove to Alhambra for an emergency briefing with detectives there.

It started in the afternoon and lasted into the early evening.

Ed Belinski had led the meeting. He and his partner, Norm Seeton, were running the investigation into Amber Pratt’s disappearance. While Tanner was hopeful about the break, he was careful to protect the integrity of his case when Belinski asked him for an update summary.

“Key fact evidence found at our scene in Camarillo is linked directly to Amber Pratt and our five cold cases,” Tanner said.

“And what’s the evidence?” Belinski asked.

“That’s holdback, Ed.”

Belinski snapped his gum.

“We’re all trying to catch the same guy, Joe.”

“You know how it goes, Ed.”

“I know you’re friendly with the press.”

“We had a strategy and it worked. We got a killer to go public.”

Belinski stared at Tanner for one cool moment.

“If that’s how you want to play it,” Belinski said. “Let’s get to work.”

Belinski said Amber’s psychologist, Claire Bowen, had reported her missing after she’d failed to make an appointment or respond to calls. Alhambra police had not yet detected any activity on Amber’s cell phone, bank, credit cards or personal email account.

“She’s made no contact with relatives, friends or her employer,” he said, adding that her car had not been moved. The residential alarm system had been defeated and there was a lot of blood in her bedroom. They were still processing the property.

“Looks like foul play and Eric Larch is a good place to start,” Belinski said.

After reviewing the history of the case to date, the group agreed all the signs pointed to Larch. Belinski then summarized the canvass and tip reports. Finally, before wrapping up, he agreed to Tanner’s request for Alhambra to join the task force.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Tanner got home.

He’d stopped off at his office first to collect files.

As soon as he got to the kitchen, his cell phone started ringing with a call from his lieutenant.

“We’re getting squeezed by the politicians, Joe. People are scared. How did it go with Alhambra, is Larch our guy?”

“He looks good for it.”

“Get some sleep. The captain’s talking about a news conference tomorrow to blast Larch’s face and that of his missing wife.”

Tanner got a box of cold pizza from the fridge and a beer. Piling his files on top of the pizza box, he settled at his sofa to eat and read. The files were thick with court records, transcripts, complaint histories, statements and reports about Larch. In a short time, Tanner became very familiar with Larch’s life.

Eric Fenlon Larch, aged thirty-six, was born in Daly City, south of San Francisco. His father, Chet, was a trucker who’d abandoned Eric’s mother, Lana, an alcoholic heroin addict, and their sons. Eric’s mother frequently beat Eric and his older brother before giving them up to be raised by Eric’s aunt and uncle across the bay in Oakland.

Eric had wanted to be a police officer. But he had a drug problem and anger issues which he seemed to overcome with the help of his aunt’s church group. He studied electronics in community college and worked at installing industrial and residential security systems, finding work in the L.A. area.

But his drug problem returned and he started drinking heavily.

Women Larch had known complained that he had a violent temper and had abused them. Several made 9-1-1 calls, a few pressed charges, which were usually withdrawn because he was skilled at talking the women out of pursuing them. Larch cleaned up, got counseling. Eventually he married Amber and moved to Long Beach. After he’d abused her, she sought a divorce, underwent therapy and started a new life.

But Larch couldn’t let her go.

So here we are, Tanner thought, before turning to statements from Amber’s psychologist, Claire Bowen. Again, he’d read how she’d pepper-sprayed Larch in the parking lot of her office when he’d attacked both women.

Tanner liked how Bowen had gone to war with this guy.

Bowen knew Amber’s state of mind before she’d disappeared and she’d had recent dealings with Larch’s rage.

We need to talk to her tomorrow.

Tanner finished the last of his beer and dragged himself to bed. As he passed Sam’s empty room, he felt a sudden longing to hold her. It seemed like a lifetime ago they were at the dentist’s office.

He reached down for one of her stuffed toys, a lion, and touched it to his cheek.

San Marino, California

The next morning, Claire’s eyes flicked open from a troubled sleep to see Robert standing over her at the foot of their bed.

She struggled to focus on him in the diffused light, motionless in his sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Robert? Is there news on Amber?”

“No, nothing, I’m sorry.”

“What’re you doing standing there like that? Is everything okay?”

“It’s the time change, I couldn’t sleep. How about you?”

“I had to take a pill.” Claire sat up, ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Robert sat on the bed near her.

“When I was watching you, I kept thinking how beautiful you are when you’re sleeping.”

She looked at him.

“Please don’t,” she said. “This isn’t the time. I need to get to the office.”

“I’m sorry, listen, I have an idea. Before you go to the office, let me take you for breakfast at the old diner, like we used to. It’ll help take your mind off this for a bit.”

She cupped her hands over her face. She was tired.

“I know this is a bad time, Claire,” he continued. “But when I was away I got to thinking about everything, about being a father, selling the cabin, us, our future, everything. God, I miss you.”

She took several moments to consider his offer.

“All right. Let me get ready.”

Before they left their house, Claire went online to check for emails from detectives and news reports on Amber. In the living room she switched on the TV and surfed channels for any local reports. She flipped through Robert’s newspapers in the kitchen.

She found nothing new.

The stories reported the same facts. Police were searching for Amber Pratt, who’d recently been assaulted by her estranged husband, a “person of interest,” they were attempting to locate.