Chapter 4

"Well, I haven't seen Stephanie since, mmm, I think it was Monday… Mmm, yes, I had a doctor's appointment at three o'clock, and I was just getting home around five. It always takes so long at the doctor's office. They make you wait for an hour in the waiting room, and then another half hour in the examining room, and all that for the doctor to say, you're going to outlive me, Mrs. Orbach, and finally give me my prescriptions. I think we should all band together and demand better service from the medical profession. There's no reason I should have to wait so long just to get my prescriptions. My time is valuable, too."

I jumped in when she paused for breath, trying to get her back on topic. "So Mrs. Orbach, did you see Stephanie on Monday when you got home?"

"Yes, that's what I was just telling you. I got home at five o'clock and the parking lot was almost full and I had to park in the last row, and there was just one spot left right next to the dumpster. And as I was getting out of my car Stephanie pulled in by the dumpster in that little red car she's been driving lately. You know, the one with the different-colored back fender and the crumpled hood?"

"Yes, ma'am, I know the car. Did you talk with Stephanie?"

"Well of course. She's a lovely young woman and she carried my bag of groceries up to my apartment for me. I had to stop at the Seven-Eleven and get some milk and eggs and bread so I could have scrambled eggs for my supper. I always have scrambled eggs and toast on Monday nights."

"And you haven't seen her since Monday?"

"No, I haven't."

"Have you seen anyone going in or out of her apartment since Monday?"

"Well, that nice Officer Morelli was there on Tuesday night. I can see the parking lot from my window," she gestured toward the window next to her chair, "and I saw him arrive around six o'clock with a pizza box and a bag from Pino's. I can tell the Pino's bags by the red chef throwing green pizza dough up into the air. Although why they'd make the pizza dough green is beyond me."

She took a breath. "His car was out in the parking lot all night. I just don't understand young people these days, staying overnight and living together without getting married. Things were different when I was young. I wasn't even allowed to be alone with a young man until I got engaged."

"How do you know Officer Morelli's car was in the lot all night?" I jumped in quickly before she could give me the lecture on why today's young people are going to hell in a handbasket.

"I have a bit of trouble sleeping and I often sit and look out the window during the night. I have my nice comfortable recliner right here," she patted the arm of her chair, "and I put my feet up and watch and then doze on and off. I saw his car still out there at about four in the morning and then I dozed off and when I woke up at six it was gone."

"Mrs. Orbach, how about Wednesday and Thursday night? Did you notice anything unusual out in the parking lot those nights?"

"Well, I didn't see Stephanie or Officer Morelli. There isn't very much traffic in the lot at night. You know, most of the residents here are seniors, and we tend to stay home in the evenings and go to bed early. Of course I know there are others like me who have trouble sleeping and sit up late. Myron Landowski has trouble, and Leo Wolensky watches TV all hours of the day and night. When I go out to get my paper early in the morning I can always hear his TV blasting. My ears are still pretty good, but Leo is as deaf as a post."

"So you didn't see anything happening in the parking lot the last couple of nights?" I was reaching the end of my patience with Mrs. Orbach and I put my hand on the arm of the couch and leaned forward to rise.

"No, nothing except the truck."

My arms and legs gave out and I collapsed back onto the couch. My voice was constricted and I could barely get it to work. "Tell me about the truck."

"It was last night, in the middle of the night. It arrived around one a.m. It backed right up into the loading zone by the door and two large men got out. They got armloads of boxes from the back of the truck and walked into the building. I was wondering what the truck was doing there in the middle of the night. Not a normal time to move furniture, if you know what I mean. I watched for a while and didn't see anything happening, and then I guess I must have dozed off, because when I woke up at six it was gone. Hmph, it's funny, I'd forgotten all about it until you asked."

"Can you describe the truck?"

"Well, as far as I could see in the dark it was a plain white truck, kind of middle sized. The kind of truck people use when they're moving an apartment full of furniture, but not a full-size moving van. I'm pretty sure there was no writing on the side of the truck, because I think I would have noticed if there was."

I leaned forward, willing her to remember. "Could you tell what color the cab was?"

"It looked red. It was parked right by the streetlight that lights the back door. There may have been a small white sign on the cab, but I couldn't tell if it said anything. It was too small, and too dark."

"Did you notice anything in particular about the men that got out of the truck?"

She closed her eyes, obviously doing her best to picture them in her mind. "They were both big, as if they used to be muscular but are now going a bit to fat. They still looked strong, you understand, but just like they enjoyed too many good meals."

"I understand perfectly. Could you tell anything else about them? Their age? Race? Clothing?"

Her eyes popped open when I spoke, but then drifted shut again as she remembered. "They were both wearing workman-type clothes, maybe coveralls, dark colored. It was hard to see more in the dark. They were both white, and they weren't old or young, somewhere in the middle. If I had to take a guess I'd say thirties or forties." She opened her eyes. "That's really all I could tell. And I fell asleep before they came back out, so I just had that one quick look."

"Mrs. Orbach, you've been a huge help. Your powers of observation are commendable. Is there anything else at all you can tell me about the truck or the men?"

"Nothing that I can think of right now. I hope Stephanie isn't in any trouble."

"I hope so, too," I said, handing her a business card as I rose. "If you think of anything else at all about the truck or the men, even if you think it's unimportant, please call me."

"You're a very polite young man, and I'll do anything I can to help Stephanie."

"Thank you, Mrs. Orbach."

oOo

Chapter 5

A week later—Friday, May 9

Tank stuck his head into my office. "Morelli is on his way up."

"I'll be right there."

I pushed the papers scattered over my desk into a pile and used my arms to push myself up from my seat, almost too weary to stand up on my own. A whole week with no word, no leads.

I'd tried everything I could think of, called in every marker, made every connection, and nothing. It was as if Stephanie had vanished from the face of the earth.

My mind told me she was at the bottom of the river, or buried in an unmarked grave somewhere. But my heart wouldn't listen.

Every day, several times, I would call on every meditation technique I'd ever learned, trying to empty myself completely, reaching out for her. I never felt a single twinge, not one solitary indication that she was still alive.

And yet my heart was still beating. I was certain she was out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her.

I entered the conference room and sat down at the head of the table. The seats on each side of me were empty, but the rest of the table was filled. Bobby and Lester, Manny and Zero, Hal and Ram, Vince and Woody were all crowded in, with Alvirez at the foot of the table.

We sat in silence, everyone shuffling papers and refusing to meet my eyes. That was a bad sign, I knew. Nobody would have anything positive to report.

Within a minute Tank entered with Joe Morelli and they took the seats next to me.

"Report," I said tersely, looking first at the cop.

"I tried three different contacts at the FBI, and all three declined. They won't get involved until there's some actual evidence of a kidnapping."

Fuck. I thought as much, but I was hoping Morelli's personal relationship with a couple of the feebs would convince them to open a file.

"Anything new with Steph's family?"

"No."

There had been identical letters to Stephanie's parents and to Vincent Plum's office, exactly the same as the one I found in her apartment, as if someone had printed out the same letter three times. They were in envelopes identical to the one that Dillon's had been in, with a standard-size computer-generated address label bearing the name and address. They were postmarked Trenton, last Friday, and were probably dropped into a mailbox on Thursday night or early Friday morning when Dillon's letter was delivered.

"Anything else to report?" I asked the cop, hoping against hope that the department had turned up some little thing that might give us the break we needed to find Stephanie.

"Nothing."

"Lester?"

"Bobby and I have gone over in detail every distraction and field job Stephanie did with RangeMan. The skips are all accounted for, most of them still in jail. A few are out, but we've found them and checked enough to be almost positive they didn't take her."

I nodded. "Manny? Zero?"

Manny answered for them both. "We've looked into and cleared most of the skips Stephanie has picked up in the past year, and about half of the ones from the two years before that. We haven't found anything, but we'll keep at it until we locate every single one."

I nodded again. "Hal? Ram?"

Hal spoke first. "We've visited every store or business with a security camera within a mile radius of Stephanie's apartment. Most of them have cooperated and let us look through their tapes for the night of the second, but there are a couple that are being hardnosed about it and won't give up the tapes without a court order."

Ram looked at Morelli. "Any chance of getting a judge to sign off?"

Morelli nodded. "Give me the info and I'll do warrants. I've got a judge who knows Steph. He'll sign them."

I looked further down the table. "Vince?"

"I've spent the entire week watching Steph's credit card, cell phone, and e-mail account and there's been no activity on any of them. I'm currently working backwards through every single purchase, phone call, and e-mail, looking for anything or anyone out of the ordinary. I've gotten almost a year back without finding anything, but I'll keep going."

"Woody?"

"I re-interviewed every resident of the apartment building. One other resident, Mr. Landowski, saw the moving truck, and he saw the men taking out furniture and boxes. But he couldn't give any better description of the men or truck than you already got from Mrs. Orbach."

Finally I looked at Alvirez. "Dino?" He'd been updating me daily on the progress of the labwork, so I knew everything he had to report, but I wanted him to summarize it for the team.

"As you know, boss, the apartment was cleaned. There were no fingerprints, no hair, no trace evidence, nothing. All surfaces were wiped down with common household cleaner, and the carpet was vacuumed thoroughly and shampooed. The residue of the shampoo was a standard brand available in every discount store and a lot of grocery stores."

He glanced around the room before continuing. "All the letters, envelopes, and labels were completely clean, no fingerprints, no DNA, no trace whatsoever. The paper and envelopes were ordinary office-supply-store stock, and the ink was from an Epson inkjet printer consistent with the one Stephanie had. The font was also consistent with the type of computer she had."

"Do you believe the letters were written and printed at Stephanie's using her computer and printer before the apartment was cleaned out?"

"Yes sir, I do."

I looked around the room. "Anyone have anything else?" Unanimous negative head shaking. "Okay, you all have your assignments. We'll meet back here Monday morning at 0800."

I stood, and everyone else rose with me, Morelli nodding at me as Tank waited to escort him out. This was our third team meeting, and Morelli looked more and more exhausted as each day passed, with dark circles under sunken eyes. He'd been working his usual vice/homicide detail and spending every free minute investigating Stephanie's disappearance.

I didn't think I looked much better. I hadn't slept more than an hour out of each twenty-four for the past week, or eaten more than a few bites of the delicious meals Ella had been trying to tempt me with. Tank was running RangeMan's normal business and I'd spent an inordinate amount of time out on the streets, talking to contacts, trying to get a whisper, a tiny breath about Stephanie.

But there had been nothing, from anywhere. At this point I was about ninety-nine percent certain she wasn't in Trenton. And that thought brought the low-level nausea I'd been battling since the moment I found Stephanie's empty apartment bubbling to the surface.

Stephanie had been gone seven days.

TBC