So, here we go...
Summary: Detective Max Caulfield is introduced to a missing person case involving world renowned model and actress, Rachel Amber. Already, there are secrets intertwined with the investigation.
Chapter One: Missing
Max's POV – Seattle – Morning
Morning rush, the streets bustling with activity. Everyone hurried to their individual destinations, prime time for road rage. Many people – both driver and pedestrian – were dazed, zombified. They clutched at their morning coffees like a life raft in a sea of sleep, yawning as they crawled along the pavement. A few souls dashed through the lethargic hoard, late. In return for their shoves, they received mumbled insults and threats.
A light mist of rain hovered in the air, inspiring a collective mood of depression. The gray clouds hung overhead like a negative force of energy, sucking all the color from the world. It was the kind of day you simply wanted to remain curled up in bed, unmoving. Unfortunately, most of the population – myself included – couldn't afford such luxury of time.
Instead, I trudged to work that morning along with the rest of them, same as always. Another weary member of society. My feet splashed in the puddles of water forming in the pavement's dips, shoes repelling the worst of the wetness. In my sleep-dazed state, I almost tripped over a slightly raised section of concrete slab – the very same one that nearly always caught me out – cursing under my breath as I managed to regain my balance. I was so damn clumsy.
C'mon, Max, get it together. With that mini-pep talk, I continued down the path until I reached the all too familiar building. It was an impressive brick structure, looming over the bustling streets: Seattle Police Department, North precinct. This place was perhaps more of a home for me than my actual residence. Honestly, I've probably spent more time here than there.
Shaking myself off, I stepped inside and headed to my seventy-five square feet office on the second floor. And so begins the daily grind.
"Yo, Max," someone called out to me, sounding criminally chipper for it being so early.
I turned as a young man with long, messy brown hair, light stubble and brown eyes approached me. He was a few inches taller than me, as most people were. "Warren, how are you so full of energy right now?"
"Since we're friends, I'll let you in on my secret." He grinned, holding up two huge cups of coffee, passing one my way. "A shit ton of caffeine is the cure all."
I took it from him, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks for sharing."
He shrugged, returning the smile with his own dorky grin. "We've gotta look out for one another, after all. Nobody else will." Those last three words sounded almost sad, the bitter pill we had to swallow.
"Ain't that the unfortunate truth," I agreed sadly, blowing on the steaming large disposable cup of strong, black coffee. The lukewarm liquid oozed down my throat, leaving a pleasant trail as I swallowed. "You are a lifesaver. I can feel my strength returning."
He did a little bow, making me roll my eyes. "I do my best. There's also some donuts in the lunchroom for later, courtesy of Brooke. She sure knows how to deliver."
The future prospect of donuts perked my mood right up. "I'll have to thank her later, too. Can't go wrong with donuts."
"Yeah, livin' up the stereotype," Warren chuckled, taking a mouthful of his own drink, smacking his lips. "Damn, that's some good coffee. Glad they opened that new place down the street."
I nodded in agreement, remembering our old haunt with a less than stellar review. "Yeah, no offense to Sal, but he clearly didn't know what coffee was supposed to taste like."
"And yet, we subjected ourselves to it every morning," he reminded with an amused half-smile, swirling his own coffee.
"Any coffee's better than no coffee. So long as it keeps me awake," I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. "Not that I'm complaining about the improved quality, though."
"I will miss the pizza bagels… that guy had a knack for them," Warren lamented with a sigh.
That was a sentiment I could completely empathize with. "That was about the only redeeming item on the menu."
"I don't even want to take a guess at how many of those this place has seen come through the door," he chuckled, knowing that he'd contributed at least twenty percent of the bagel intake. "And he damn well knew it, kept the store open at night."
"Guess out mass purchasing of pizza bagels wasn't enough to keep him afloat," I mentioned sadly.
Sal was a really good guy, coffee fails aside. Friendly, talkative and loved retelling the tale of his family business. His grandfather moved over to America from Italy, where he later met his wife, Ada. They tirelessly worked that café up from nothing, passing it onto their daughter and her partner – Lexi and Ralph. After Ralph passed and Lexi became ill, Sal took up the mantle. Until recently, he lived in the upper floor of the café with his long-term partner, Sylvester, and a young daughter from a previous relationship.
Warren's head tilted from side to side, contemplating. "I hear he was bought out, prime real-estate over here apparently. With our caffeine intake, no wonder. I think they'll be sticking around in Seattle."
"No doubt he'll pop in at some point if he is planning on staying in the area," I added with a fond smile. "Probably to bring along various weird and wonderful concoctions he's made for testing. I wouldn't be surprised if he opens another café a couple blocks away."
"Oh, I would bet money on it," he snickered, knowing there was a high chance of that actually happening.
"Detective Caulfield," a familiar voice came from behind me interrupting the conversation, gruff and commanding.
Swiveling around, I spotted an older man with dark hair peppered with specks of gray and a thick mustache, expression set to a default stern frown. The man in question was the Chief, David Madsen; an ex-soldier who had risen through the ranks after his military service. He was a tough bastard – I sure as hell wouldn't want to cross him – but fair to those who earned his respect. Fortunately, I was among those select few.
"You're needed in Interrogation Room Three. Missing Person case," he clarified, turning to Warren with a nod of acknowledgment before leaving.
"You get all the fun ones, huh?" Warren muttered just loud enough for me to hear, tone playfully mocking.
Giving him a shrug, I followed David over to the interrogation rooms – small spaces with very little light, only holding a metal desk and two chairs either side. He handed me a manila folder, giving me time to have a look through a summary of the case file. A picture and profile predominantly, alongside various interview summaries from people of interest to the case.
The missing person in question was a woman; Rachel Dawn Amber, twenty-seven. Long blonde hair, hazel eyes, 5'5, 110lbs, two tattoos – a dragon on her right calf and the outline of a star on the inside of her left wrist. Even I knew she was a celebrity, making her breakthrough in modeling when she was nineteen, then transferring into the acting scene. I'd seen a couple of mentions about her in magazines and from TV shows I'd flicked through by chance late at night when I couldn't sleep. No denying she was pretty… and had plenty of rumors surrounding her because of it. She'd gone missing a few days ago, only reported when she didn't turn up to her recent shoot location.
One thing not many people knew, she had been peripherally involved in a case I'd worked several years ago now, one I seriously wanted to forget…
"Got the girlfriend in for interrogation. Only found out about her the other day. Their relationship was supposed to be a secret – she didn't need that media circus – although Ms. Amber's agent let that slip when we had a chat," David explained, giving me an expectant look.
"I'm on it, sir," I reassured, taking a deep breath as I entered the musty cell-like room. Not inviting at all. Then again, that was the point. It was supposed to feel uncomfortable.
Before me sat a woman: tall, pale, blue eyes, faded chin-length blue hair, a colorful tattoo sleeve on her right arm. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept in days. Her head lifted as I entered, the ghost of lightheartedness in her tone. "Was starting to think you'd all forgotten about me."
Sitting down in front of her, I sipped at my coffee, trying to get my necessary daily caffeine intake to function. Last night had been a bad one for sleep; to be fair, it usually was. As a detective, I saw… things that made my skin crawl. There were some truly evil people in the world. Pure nightmare fuel.
As always, I started up the recording for future reference. Introductions first. "I'm Detective Caulfield and I'll be conducting this interview. For the record, can you please state your full name and age, please."
The bluenette seemed reluctant but complied. "Chloe Elizabeth Price. Twenty-seven."
Interlocking my hands on the table, I focused my gaze on the woman in front of me. "Ms. Price, I understand you are Ms. Amber's girlfriend, correct?"
"Yeah, got a problem with that?" she shot back, shifting uncomfortably. Maybe she was just nervous about her relationship with Rachel coming to light… and maybe her anxiety was linked to something else more sinister. It was my job to find out, one way or another.
"Ms. Price, I am not trying to offend or catch you out," I reassured soothingly. For the moment, she was our only unexplored suspect left. There were others currently under suspicion. "I just want answers to help the case. Now, is there any reason you can think of for Ms. Amber's disappearance? Did you have a fight, or is there anyone you can think of who may have a personal vendetta against her?"
"Oh yeah, because it'd make your job so much simpler if I did it, right? Such a fucking cliché," she snapped angrily, frowning.
Running my fingers through my hair, totally not ready for this, I took a few seconds to compose myself. This was not the first hostile witness I'd encountered in my career, nor would it be my last. Honestly, Chloe wasn't that bad, not compared to what I'd already dealt with ever since entering the police force. Still didn't make my job easier, though.
Leaning back in my seat, I crossed my arms. "Ms. Price, if you keep evading my questions, I will hold you overnight until I get answers."
"You do whatever you have to do, Detective. Keep me here forever, for all I care. Only got an empty apartment waiting for me, anyway. One prison's no different from the next." Her rage faltered for a moment, replaced with sad realization.
I'd interrogated a lot of dodgy people in my career, psychos and murderers, but Chloe didn't seem like one of them. If anything, she was a victim of grief. Still, looks could be deceiving. David always told me to never assume anything, no matter how certain or logical. Some people were impressive pretenders, able to manipulate and deceive as naturally as breathing. I trusted his judgment whole heartedly, much more than my own.
Changing tact, I tried to diffuse the situation. "Listen, I can understand your anger…"
She laughed at that, short and sharp. "Can you? Tell me, Detective, has your girlfriend gone missing? Are you worried sick that she might turn up dead? Tortured, mutilated, MURDERED! Buried in a shallow grave, or floating in the river?!" She was shouting now, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her haunting words echoed around the room, hitting us both with full force. Frowning, Chloe averted her gaze, voice now low and mumbled as she angrily swiped at her eyes. "No? Didn't think so…"
The atmosphere awkward, I pushed a box of tissues towards her and took a long sip of my coffee to give her time to calm down. "Please, Ms. Price, I'm only here to help find Ms. Amber. I'm sure you want to find her just as much, no more than we do."
It took a few moments and nearly a whole box of tissues for her to calm down enough to continue. Again, not the first time someone had broken down in front of me. I'd delivered enough bad news over the years, but it never made it any easier to see someone pushed to their emotional limit.
Exhaling shakily, Chloe rubbed her face with her hands. "I… sorry, I just want her back… I miss her so fucking much already. I just want her to come home." That last word was lost to a sniffle.
Looking into her now watery blue eyes, I got back to the task at hand. "We'll do our very best to find her, Ms. Price, but we need your help. Anything you can remember at all could be the key to solving this case."
Clearing her throat, she nodded. "In the past few months, Rachel got involved with a shady crowd. Drugs, mostly. I asked her about it numerous times, but she always brushed me off. The other day, hours before she went missing, we had a fight about it. She stormed out and… that was the last I saw of her." Her bottom lip quivered as she said those last few words.
"Do you know who exactly she was getting involved with?" I asked softly, not wanting to push her too hard but needing more than that to go on.
Swallowing her emotions, she let out a shaky breath and replied. "Some local drug dealer, uh, Frank Bowers I think his name was. Something like that. That's how it started, anyway. Things escalated from there. That's all I can think of now, I'm afraid."
I gave her a gentle smile, genuinely feeling sorry for her. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Price. If you think of anything else, give me a call and we'll arrange a meeting." I handed over a card with my work cell phone number on, just in case. "If there's anything else we need or find out, we'll be in touch."
Pocketing the card, she stood. "I will, and okay."
Escorting her out of the Interrogation Room, I sent her on her way and returned to my office. Boxes were stacked up in precarious piles, papers scattered everywhere. Slouching into my desk chair, I let out a sigh as I closed my eyes. It wasn't even lunchtime yet…
There was a sharp knock at my door, getting my attention. Turning to the sound, I noticed an auburn-haired woman smiling back. "How come you always get to interrogate the cute ones?"
"Figures you'd see it like that, Dana. What would Juliet think?" I poked back, shaking my head.
Dana tapped her cheek, seemingly deep in thought. "Hmm, she doesn't have to know. Besides, I'm only stating the obvious. You gotta admit it, girl."
Despite it being inappropriate, Dana just couldn't help herself from making those kinds of comments. Mostly to lighten the mood and tease me. It was hard to get mad at her for it, and tiring as hell. Better to entertain her for a while.
"No comment," I replied, knowing that lack of a definitive answer would drive her mad.
"I'm taking that as a yes, then," she added with a knowing smirk. "Seriously, you need to get out more, have some no strings attached fun or whatever. I know you're obsessed with work, but once in a while couldn't hurt."
"Or I could just get involved with a snoopy reporter and not be sure if she hooked up with me because I'm a good source of confidential info," I prodded teasingly.
"Ouch, low blow, Max. Alright, I'll drop it for now." Dana held up her hands, chuckling. "But I know I'm right."
Rolling my eyes, I finished up my coffee and pushed it to one side. "Sure you do."
"Seriously though, the whole crew's going out later to the bar. You should come too," she added hopefully, trying to coax me.
However many times she offered, I always declined. "As tempting as it sounds, I'll give it a miss this time."
She sighed over exaggeratedly, hand on her hip. "Girl, you always do. Fine, but next time I am totally going to drag you out of here, kicking and screaming. Mark my words, Caulfield." Waving, she left me to it.
Rolling my shoulders, I typed up the transcript from the interview with Chloe, alongside my own observations while they were fresh in my mind, uploading it to the system. For good measure, I made a shorthand physical version too, putting it aside for later filing. Also, I sent a report to David. The rest of the day passed by slowly, mostly paper work and organizing. Mind numbing stuff. Not every day was full of murder and high-speed car chases.
After what seemed like an eternity, home time came around. Trashing my various coffee cups and food wrappers from the day, I grabbed my jacket and clocked out. Of course, I was always on call but at least I'd be home. A hot bath, proper food and some non-crime related TV. My apartment honestly wasn't much bigger than my office: a small open kitchen, tiny lounge area leading onto a box of a bedroom and claustrophobic bathroom.
Sighing, I heated up some leftovers – Chinese from yesterday, I think – from my bare fridge and slumped down on the beat-up couch, switching on my TV. I flicked through the channels, briefly stopping on the news where Rachel Amber's disappearance seemed to have caused a stir. A handful of people ended up either missing or dead each month. Guess it only matters when celebrities go missing, huh? Normal people don't count as 'newsworthy' unless someone causes a riot.
Someone I recognized was reporting on the case, Dana's girlfriend, Juliet Watson. The pair had been in an on-off thing for months now. Of course, their professional interests had been a concern at first. Now, they seemed to have found a happy medium, where Juliet was kept in the loop without risking confidential information getting leaked.
Curious to see what Juliet had to say, I stuck with the channel. "The illustrious model/actress Rachel Dawn Amber, aged twenty-seven, has been confirmed missing. Many fans flocked to her agency's office, leaving offerings at a shrine dedicated to her safe return. The charismatic Ms. Amber made her breakthrough aged nineteen and has been in our hearts and minds ever since. The Chief of Police, David Madsen, had these words to say."
The scene changed to the press conference earlier today, David standing at a podium in front of what felt like half the world's cameras. "We are working tirelessly to uncover Ms. Amber's fate, putting our best detectives on the case."
Aw, shucks. Thanks, David. I smirked, switching over to another station to take my mind off things. My relaxation only lasted for around thirty minutes – nearly beating my previous record – before my phone started buzzing. Unable to ignore it, I pulled the damn thing out of my pocket, frowning when I didn't recognize the number.
When I put the receiver to my ear, my eyes grew wide and I bolted for the door without even switching the TV off.
Who was the mysterious phone call from? And what did the caller have to say for themselves? Find out next time…