#SampleSunday:"Nobody's that good at disappearing, Payne." -Missing Persons
If you’re on my newsletter list, you saw the timeline and checklist of our process to publication. Just in case you’re not on my list, check it out HERE. We are one week closer to ARCS opening and some readers getting a big taste of Wesley and Yvette!
You know what time it is, though. SUNDAY SAMPLE TIME!
WESLEY
Ten floors above the Beltline trail, the law offices of Courtney & Payne were dark. Save my office, which was lit for the long night ahead, the silence broken only by the sounds of my fingers pounding the keyboard and the low hum of the beverage cooler under the credenza.
The door swung open without a knock. I didn't look up, but I recognized the sound of familiar footsteps crossing my office.
“Don't even think about it,” I said without looking up.
“I'm not gonna break it. If it worked like a normal coffee maker—"
“There's nothing wrong with that machine except your inability to use it." I glanced up as Nick ignored me and prepared to do battle with my espresso machine. Rolling my wrist, I glanced at my watch, then at Nick. “What are you still doing here?"
He poked at the touchscreen, waited, then tapped again when nothing lit up. Muttering to himself, he pulled open the reservoir lid and peered inside.
"My wife set up some dinner," he said. "The restaurant over at Ponce — Nine Mile Station? I'm killing time." He turned just enough for me to see his suit jacket slung over one arm, his tie still knotted as if it were 9 AM. "I heard the Simeons are going to settle."
"That's the hope. Can't beat the cheating allegations. Surveillance must've hit harder than we thought."
Nick grabbed a mug from the shelf, pushed it under the spout with too much force, then twisted the brew dial the wrong way. The machine beeped in protest. Undeterred, he crouched to open the cooler, grabbed a carton of milk, and sloshed some into the frothing pitcher.
"I mean…" He shrugged, leaning in to read the button labels while steam hissed faintly from the frothier. "We can put it in 4K if he needs to see it more clearly."
I stared at Nick's back. "Did you just compliment Yvette's work? You have a fever or something?"
"I'm feeling generous. Don't get used to it." Nick glanced toward the desk while the machine went through its machinations. "How's that albatross around your neck coming? Yvette find anything in those boxes?"
"Still sorting through them," I said. "Photos, letters, junk from his high school days. Could be nothing. Could be the thread we need."
A tinny clang cut me off. Nick had knocked over the milk frothier.
"Fuck, man. What are you doing over there?"
"This is why normal offices have break rooms with normal coffee makers," he muttered, pulling out a handkerchief to clean up the spill.
"We have a break room with a normal coffeemaker."
"That one sucks. I like yours."
I picked up a pen and clicked it repeatedly. "The workshop tells a story. Everything's organized. Tools arranged by size, no half-finished projects. This is not the space of a guy who snapped and walked out."
"So he planned it," Nick said.
"Yvette thinks so. And she's usually right."
Nick dropped into one of my guest chairs, the cup looking ridiculous in his large hands. "James says his sister called Edward lazy. Impulsive. Not the planning type."
I opened Yvette's preliminary report. "The way he did this says something different. He wants it to look like he just up and disappeared, but he was actually calculated about it. He seemed to know what he was doing."
"I don't know," said Nick before taking a sip of his brew. "No prints. No credit activity. No traffic cams. Nobody's that good at disappearing, Payne. That man is dead."
"Or someone is helping him appear to be dead. It's not like CIA is the only agency that knows a thing or two about disappearing a person."
Nick's brow hiked. "You think he's a witness?"
"Don't know. Vette might be onto something, though, looking for someone he's connected to."
My phone sent a buzz-buzz-buzz into the air. I picked it up from the charging pad and frowned at the screen. "Speaking of connections," I said, tapping the speaker icon. "James. Nick's here with me. We were just talking about your brother-in-law. What's going on?"
"Hey. Uh... I might have something?" James's voice had an edge I hadn't heard before. He hesitated before speaking again. "I ran into Eddie's old supervisor from the Miller Creek development. It was the last real job he had."
"The condos that never got built," I said. "What'd he say?"
"There was a woman in the office—Carmela Verona. She worked in finance. Bernie said she mysteriously quit, packed up, moved away. Left no forwarding address...right around the time Ed vanished. Thought it was weird but never put the two together."
I sat up, grabbing a pen. "How close to Ed's disappearance?"
"A few weeks, maybe a month before. They weren't in the same department. He didn't think they knew each other, but they both worked there."
"Nobody quits a steady job for no reason," Nick said.
"Yeah," said James. "Especially when you work for the developer or the investor. That's not the only job they've got going on."
"Had to be something with the Miller Creek project in particular," I said.
James sighed. "It's probably nothing. Bernie mentioned it and the more I think about it, the less it seems like a coincidence. Just... sounds funny to me."
"Funny's enough to check out," I said. "Thanks, James. We'll dig into it and keep you posted."
I pressed the button to end the call. Nick had shifted his posture: elbows on his knees, his fingertips steepled under his chin. "Interesting," he mused, his eyes narrowed.
"Very," I muttered, already pulling up Yvette's number. If James was right, if there really was a second disappearance wrapped inside the first one, then either Edward Foster wasn't alone in running, or someone else had vanished and we had more than one missing persons case.
She picked up on the third ring. "You better have a damn good reason for pulling me from the dinner table," she said, voice rising above the clatter of plates and background hum of familial chaos.
"I would apologize, but frankly, Yvette, I wasn't invited to dinner, so you'll have to deal."
"Talk fast, Payne. Mama's pasta bake and garlic toast wait for no one."
"I need Stelle to look into a woman from Edward's past. James ran into Edward's old supervisor at the Miller Creek job, the development that flamed out. Supervisor says a woman named Carmela Verona worked in finance there. She quit, packed up, disappeared maybe a month before Edward did."
"Two people connected to the same failed development project disappearing within weeks of each other? That's not coincidence."
"Yeah. That's what we're thinking."
"I'll let you know what we dig up. Anything else?"
I checked the time, squinting at the hour. "You working tonight?"
"Nope," she popped back right away. "I will be in a food coma, planted between my mama and my daddy. It's NCIS night."
I cringed, as did Nick. "How do you even watch that show? They invent procedure, fuck up chain of custody, get jurisdiction wrong, and don't even get me started on the courtroom scenes—"
"It's comfort TV, Payne."
Nick and I rolled our eyes at each other, mostly because Yvette couldn't see us.
"Fine. Enjoy your unrealistic military entertainment television."
"I will. Stelle's with her grandkids. I'll have her dig into Carmela in the morning."
"Appreciate it, Vette. Enjoy your pasta bake and say hey to the family."
Yvette hung up without saying goodbye.
