Rick Mofina - Into the Dark

“Bartley Green?” Zurn leaned forward at his desk. “With the D.A.’s office? Put him through.”

Tanner held his tongue. Whoever Bartley Green was, he was persistent. Let Harvey deal with him, Tanner thought, collecting his pages.

He started with Leeza Meadows, who’d only flown once in the time period before her death. It was to Boston. The captain listed for her flight was Leon Elliott. Tanner then went to the list for Fay Millwood. She’d flown once to Denver in the period. The captain for her flight was listed as Leon Elliott. Tanner thought, fine, Elliott was a pilot for StarBest . But the name Robert Bowen hadn’t surfaced at all so far.

So much for instincts and hunches .

Shuffling through the pages, he went to the flight for Bonnie Bradford to New York. The captain was Leon Elliott.

This Leon Elliott was everywhere.

Esther Lopez had gone to Las Vegas and Atlantic City to work. Leon Elliott was captain for one of her flights. Tanner flipped to the pages for the most frequent flyer of all five women, Monique Wilson. She’d flown to Chicago, Houston and Philadelphia. According to a note in the file, Wilson’s sister had said that Monique flew often enough to get to know some of the airline crews. On two of her flights, Houston and Philadelphia, Leon Elliott was her captain.

What the hell?

“Hey, Joe.” Zurn had finished his call. “You’re not going to believe this.”

Still contending with the flight lists, Tanner turned to Zurn.

“We got a tip from a source with the D.A.’s office to check out Robert Bowen,” Zurn said. “You know, the husband of Amber Pratt’s psychologist, the guy we met in her office? The freeway hero pilot. Turns out he changed his name in Canada after his wife died in a wilderness accident a few years back. She fell while they were hiking in the mountains. The Mounties up there had nothing to charge him with, but got a bad read on the guy.”

“Robert Bowen changed his name?” Tanner asked.

“Yeah.”

“From what?”

Zurn looked at his notes.

“Used to be Leon Richard Elliott. We’re going to get some paper on him and a Mountie contact in British Columbia- What is it, Joe?”

“It’s him.”

“What?”

“It’s Robert Bowen.”

“How do we know that?” Zurn asked.

Tanner stapled the flight manifests together and tossed them to Zurn.

“Go through those flight lists where I highlighted. I don’t know how it happened-if he fell through the cracks or what, because I thought the TSA vetted pilots and that the airlines helped screen them with security checks and deep background. Look, Elliott is the common denominator. He was captain of the flight for each victim. He must’ve selected and stalked them.”

As Zurn raced through the pages, he started shaking his head.

“And now,” Zurn said, “he’s back, stalking his wife’s patients.”

Tanner grabbed his jacket.

“We need to get warrants now.”

Big Bear Lake, California

Stones pelted the floorboards of Bobby’s old Dodge pickup as he and Claire bumped along the gravel road that was Vista Lane.

“Thanks again for all your help,” Claire said.

“No problem.”

“I meant to ask, how’s the wireless reception out here? I’ve been having trouble with my cell phone and need to work on my computer.”

“It’s mostly good since they put up the new towers, but people down your way without landlines say it’s still really sketchy.”

“Great,” Claire said, sighing.

“Just keep your phone charged and keep trying. Calls seem to get through, eventually.”

“I will, thanks.

At the big granite rock they turned onto the pathway. Branches swept against the doors as the truck bumped along through the short stretch of dense forest before coming to the cabin.

The sight of it stirred memories.

Claire loved the soothing way the sunlight pierced the arching treetops and dappled the property. For a moment she blinked fondly, as if seeing an old friend. But the sentiment was eclipsed as she walked to the door.

It took several tries before she unlocked it.

After Bobby unloaded her bags and groceries from the truck, Claire offered him two twenties but he refused.

“Thank you again.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow sometime,” he said, then drove off.

Claire stood alone in the quiet of the cabin, wishing the tranquility were a sedative. She remained tense, from the trip, the day, everything. She checked her cell phone, the signal was good, but there were no new messages. Is anybody going to tell me what’s going on? She set up her laptop on the kitchen table, logged on and checked her email. No responses to her calls. She reviewed online news sites. Nothing new on Amber’s case.

All right, you’ve got things to do .

She put her groceries away and went to the master bedroom, remembering that Robert had kept an ancient portable TV around somewhere to catch Lakers and Dodgers games. She found it in the closet, took it out, turned it on and adjusted the antenna until she picked up an L.A. news channel.

She left it on to monitor reports on Amber while she unpacked a few things. Claire then undressed and went into the bathroom. It’d been a long, hard day and she wanted to wash off the grime and stress of the drive.

She’d eat something and then start work.

Reaching into the shower to turn on the faucet she stopped.

What’s that on the stall floor?

Claire lowered herself.

A dried stain webbed around the drain, lacy pinkish and with some muddied residue. Claire hesitated, guessing it was from Robert after he’d done some work outside- maybe he’d cut himself? She poured some shampoo over the stain, turned on the hot water. As she washed it away, she thought it had been ages since the cabin had a good cleaning. She considered hiring a cleaning service to scour the place.

While Claire showered, she planned the rest of her day. She’d go over her patient files to ensure she hadn’t overlooked anything in her more difficult cases.

Overlooked anything? Who am I kidding?

Her ever-present guilt over Amber resumed gnawing at her. Claire resurrected Martha Berman’s advice and tried to concentrate on the things she could control. She stepped from the shower and toweled off. As she started dressing, her attention went to the TV and live news coverage of a motel under the graphic Arrest Made in Missing Woman Case .

She turned up the volume.

“…Again, KTKX has breaking news. The AllNews Press Agency is reporting that the LAPD has arrested Eric Larch at the motel behind me, the Palms of Paradise Motor Inn on West Olympic Boulevard in Los Angeles…We now have on the line Mark Harding the ANPA reporter who broke the story.”

A still photo of Mark Harding appeared in a lower corner of the screen.

“Mark, what can you tell us?”

“Eric Larch was identified as a person of interest in the case of his estranged wife, Amber Pratt of Alhambra, who has been reported missing. Police say they have not yet located the woman…the L.A. County Sheriff Department’s Cold Case Task Force has said that the Pratt case is linked to five unsolved murders of women across the L.A. area but so far they’re not confirming if Larch, who I am told is facing questioning, is suspected of being the so-called Dark Wind Killer who has written to the ANPA. Police refuse to discuss any aspect of their investigation into this very gruesome case.”

“Thank you, Mark… Again, an arrest has been made in the case of… KTKX will monitor this breaking development…”

Claire’s heart raced.

Oh, God, please find Amber.