Missing A Chroniclers Tale Pt 01

This story is part of a much larger story arc that's been running around in my imagination for a long time. I was writing a different story, but this one kept bugging me, so, I wrote it down to, "clear the baffles" so to speak.

The last time I was in New York City, Nixon was president, so, everything in this story is totally made up fiction. All characters are over 18 and there is little sex in this story. I don't have an editor for this, but I hope to improve my abilities with each story I write.

Some elements of this story are sci-fi, but often, sci-fi is just science we haven't explained yet. Comments are always welcome.

"Excuse me?" a quiet female voice asked. The lobby of the 1st Precinct house on Ericsson Place was oddly quiet for 6pm on a Tuesday night. Usually, the quiet voice would never have been heard over the din of a busy police precinct house in the the most densely populated city in the country. But the weather had been stormy all day. Desk Sargent Devon Fitzpatrick, a twenty-two year veteran of New York's finest, wondered if the rain had kept the stupidity of humanity at bay today.

He sighed, looking up from the monitor he had been intensely concentrating on. Fitzpatrick was trying to finish out the shift log before his evening replacement, Sargent Chariss Shepard, showed up to replace him. She a notorious ball buster with a penchant for eviscerating poorly written shift logs and, he had no desire to put up with her passive aggressive shit in the morning. Typing was a skill he had never really mastered in all his time on the force. Devon still found himself hunting and pecking for letters. While the shift had been slow, he was trying to get the shift log caught up.

The Sargent's desk was elevated over the cracked linoleum lobby floor. The desktop stood five feet off the floor. He never had to look up at anyone, usually, he was looking down at someone approaching his domain. A young blonde, her long hair pulled back in a pony tail and her eyes puffy and red, stood looking up at him. She nervously twisted her hands, her blue eyes puffy and red and distress written all over her face. To his practiced eye, she was probably in her mid to late twenties. Her jeans murmured carefree casual, but her light brown pull over sweater screamed Neiman Marcus or Nordstroms. Her dress, clear skin and clean hair reminded him of the ten's of thousands of young professionals in the financial district. She didn't have the air of a lawyer, so at least he wouldn't have to deal with that.

"Yes miss, what can I help you with?"

"I called about filling out a missing persons report, they told me I had to come in."

"What's your name sis?" he asked, pulling up the NYPD missing persons form on his monitor.

"Sara Anderson" she replied nervously, but with a hint of impatience and sadness.

"Who's missing Sara?" he asked.

"My...my boyfriend, Patrick O'Connell."

"What's his address?"

"5724 Jay Street. Over in Tribeca" she said, trying to stifle a sob.

Fitzpatrick could feel his empathy rising, "It'll be OK Sara. How old is Patrick?"

"Fifty two" Sara replied quickly, looking up at the Sargent. She noted the expression on his face and the twitch of his eyebrows.

"Do you live together?" he asked.

"No, we used to, but I work in Albany now. I'm the Communications Director for Senate Leader Stevenson."

Fitzpatrick became instantly aware that this missing persons case, was beyond his pay grade and, if he wanted to keep his pension intact, he was going to get it turned over to a detective immediately.

Flustered for a moment, Fitzpatrick regained his professionalism, "Just a few more items Miss Anderson and I'll be able to hand you off to a detective. OK?"

She nodded her head, "OK."

"When was the last time you saw or heard from Mr. O'Connell?"

"Last Thursday, so, five days ago. About 6 or so Thursday evening. I've tried to call him every day since then, but his phone goes straight to voice mail."

"Did he say where he was, was he upset?

"He said he was on Long Island meeting some prospective clients. He didn't say where he was...just that the people he was meeting were. Um."

Fitzpatrick noticed her hesitation and her eyes darting around the precinct lobby. Her eyes started to glisten with tears and her lips quivered.

"He said. They were." She paused for a moment and then leaned closer to Fitzpatrick's desk and whispered, "They were...connected."

Now Fitzpatrick was very concerned. He ran his broad hand through his sparse, closely cropped salt and pepper hair, "Did he mention names?"

Sara shook her head no, "We didn't talk long, just a few minutes. Then he said he had to go cause they were coming back." Another sob escaped her lips and tears started to roll down her cheeks, "I didn't even get a chance to say I loved him."

"Give me a moment to get a detective down here, OK Sara?"

Fitzpatrick picked up his phone and scanned a computerized roster for the missing persons detective. He quickly entered the number and waited as it rang, seemingly forever.

A tired voice answered, "Missing persons, Jakubowski."

"Detective? This is Desk Sargent Fitzpatrick. I got someone here that needs to see you ASAP" Fitzpatrick said hurriedly.

The tired voice asked "Is it a special category?"

"A VIP." Fitzpatrick then added quickly, "An Albany connected VIP", emphasizing 'Albany'.

Jakubowski's voice suddenly came alive, "You're shittin? Fuck, I was only going to be here a bit longer. I'm on my way down."

"Detective Jakubowski is on his way down Sara." He forwarded the form he completed with Sara's information to Detective Jakubowski's email. He said a silent prayer that this was out of his hands now. The last think Fitzpatrick wanted was an unpredictable shit show with Albany. He looked forward to retiring in a few years and sincerely wanted his pension intact.

Sara had her right arm wrapped across her stomach and her left bent, resting on her right hand. She nervously chewed on her thumbnail, a nervous habit from childhood. While waiting for the detective she absently wiped a tear from her cheek. She tried to think of any detail, any clue she might have missed that would explain where Patrick could be and why he wouldn't be answering his phone.

In the five and half years she had known Patrick, most of that time exclusively together, he had never deliberately ignored her calls. Five days without any contact had left her distressingly worried. She hadn't liked the way he sounded the last time they spoke. He had sounded nervous and the Patrick she knew, was never nervous.

Sara stifled back a tear thinking back to their last conversation. Patrick had been so rushed, she did not get an opportunity to talk to him about her returning to the city and either going back into reporting or getting another PR job. Albany had not turned out like she had thought and the past weekend had simply reinforced her conviction that she needed to return.

She prayed Patrick would never find out the monumentally stupid shit she had done in the short time she was with David Stevenson, the esteemed Senate Leader of the State of New York. She was terrified of losing Patrick. But now this? Patrick missing had simply thrown her for a loop.

Sara swiveled around when she heard a door burst open behind her. A broad shouldered, athletically built man, a half head taller than her 5' 6'' came bounding though a stairwell doorway. His brown hair, professionally cut short and a bright wide smile, he radiated confidence without even trying.

"Miss Anderson?" he asked

Sara nodded "Yes, I am."

"I'm Detective Jacob Jakubowski. I understand you reported a missing person?"

"Yes. My boyfriend, Patrick O'Connell."

Jakubowski motioned for her to follow, "Please, come with me and we'll get your case going."

The detective led Sara up to the second floor at a quick pace and down a hallway bustling with cops, lawyers and obvious suspects. They passed a bored older homeless looking man, handcuffed to a bench. Sara's sense of smell was assaulted by his overripe odors as they passed.

He yelled out "Yo, dick-tective! Where's my trench coat?"

Jakubowski ignored him as they passed. Sara glanced at the man with a look of disgust on her face and her nose crinkled up.

The patrolman with the unenviable duty of minding him, slapped him on the shoulder "Shut up dickhead! Or I'll gag your ass."

"What? That fine honey wants to see what's under my coat. I can't show her if'n I don't have my coat!" he cackled loudly which brought on a horrible coughing fit.

Detective Jakubowski ushered Sara into an office several doors down from the homeless man, his coughing ringing in her ears. The Missing Persons squad room in the 1st Precinct was small, home to six detectives. Their desks were arranged in two rows, each partner across from each other. Each desk was dominated by two computer monitors. Some desks were organized, others, haphazardly disorganized. Rain pelted against the windows and a flash of lighting, followed by a roll of thunder, announced another storm moving through.

The detective led Sara to two desks against the back wall of the room. He motioned for her to sit in a standard office chair while he sat at his desk. He took a moment to look over a form on his computer. Jacob was ready to move on from the Missing Persons squad. He was wondering if this case would help that happen.

"Sorry about that, but it happens all the time" Jakubowski said.

Sara waved him off, "I've lived in this city for a long time, that's tame."

"Alright Miss Anderson..."

"Please, call me Sara Detective."

"OK, Sara. I know you've told some of this to the desk Sargent, but I'm going to have you go over it again." Jakubowski pulled up the missing persons form the Desk Sargent had sent him. He glanced at Sara several times, getting his first impressions of the young woman. She was quite beautiful, with cool blue eyes and high cheek bones. Jacob thought Sara to be a few years younger than his 33. He noted no ring on her finger, but some of the jewelry she was wearing seemed expensive. Sara's lithe figure showed she regularly worked out and took care of herself. Her breasts filled out her sweater but were by no means detracted from her slim appearance.

"Miss Anderson, you told the Desk Sargent that you last heard from, ah, Mr. O'Connell last Thursday, the um, 17th?"

"Yes. I called him about six or so Thursday evening. We hadn't had many chances to talk this week. It's been busy in Albany" Sara replied.

"Mr. O'Connell lives in Tribeca? Have you been to his house?"

Sara's body started to quiver and shake as tears began to flow down her cheeks again. She held a crumpled up kleenex to her nose as the sobs began.

Jacob patted her shoulder gently, "It'll be OK Miss Anderson. The more you can tell me, the better the chance of finding your boyfriend."

Sara looked up at Jacob and nodded. She sniffled away the tears and wiped her nose, "I'm sorry about all this, I'm just scared." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, attempting to calm herself, "I had a friend go by his townhome yesterday afternoon. She said she knocked, but no one answered. She looked into the windows and she said it looked empty."

Sara cried again, but got herself composed, "I rushed down from Albany this morning. I couldn't get away last night. All I knew was things weren't making sense. I took the first train down this morning. When I opened the door to Patrick's townhome..." Sara started sobbing again.

"You have a key?" Jacob asked.

Sara nodded and moaned, "It was empty! Nothing! Nothing at all! I don't understand!" Sara's tears flowed freely down her face and her body shook with low sobs.

Jacob sat back in his chair and his eyes narrowed down on Sara. To his mind, the boyfriend just up and left. Normally, he would do a little checking, then call it a day. But, and it was a big but, Sara worked for the State Senate leader. That was someone he wouldn't piss off by blowing off this case or Sara. He was going to have to run this to ground in order for the Chief not to get grief from Albany. There was already enough rancor between the City and the Governor. Jacob decided cross every T and dot every I, so Miss Anderson would know the NYPD took her and the case seriously. He wondered if the boyfriend was sitting on a beach somewhere. He was hoping for a nice little tropical vacation to interview Mr. O'Connell, once he found him.

While Sara was quite beautiful, he knew he was just looking at the surface. He wondered what was underneath that would cause an older boyfriend to not only ghost her, but apparently leave the city? There were some things that were beginning to bother him about all this.

"Did you ask the neighbors about who moved the furniture?" a confused Jacob asked.

Sara sniffled and wiped her eyes, "The next door neighbor said some guys showed up Friday afternoon and Saturday. One guy said the owner was moving to Florida. That's bullshit!"

Jacob figured this investigation would end on a beach in Miami, "Did they get the name of the moving company?"

Sara shook her head no, "It was just plain, white vans. She said there were no names on the side, no logos."

"Does he have a cell or a landline? Email? Social media?"

"No, no social media. He hates it. He doesn't post anything and doesn't really like it when I post pictures of us. He allows it every now and then" Sara said with a disappointed sound in her voice.

Sara pulled her phone up and quickly brought up Patrick's contact information. He quickly entered his phone numbers and Email addresses into the computer form.

"Do you have a picture?" he asked.

Sara nodded and brought up her picture gallery on her phone. Jacob watched as she swiped and tapped her way around the phone.

"Here, this is a good one. We took this in July in the Bahamas" she said with a smile.

Jacob got his first look at the missing Mr. O'Connell. It was obviously a selfie taken by Sara. Both were smiling, O'Connell was holding her close as they sat under a beach umbrella. He was shirtless and she wore a rather tiny bikini top that did nothing to hide her rather nice chest.

O'Connell's eyes were bright, he looked happy and loving. He was clean shaven with short, salt and pepper hair. His chest was broad and Jacob could tell Mr. O'Connell was quite fit. He wore a nice tan, but he noticed something on his right shoulder.

"Does Mr. O'Connell have a tattoo?" Jacob asked.

Sara nodded, "Yes. An eagle. It's not big. I should have a picture of it." She tapped and swiped again on her phone. "Here's one" she said, showing the image to Jacob. In Jacobs mind, the tattoo reminded him of something, but he couldn't place it.

"Can you send these to me? Email?"

Jacob handed Sara his card with his email address. She tapped and swiped again. Shortly, Jacobs computer dinged announcing a new email had arrived.

"Can you think of any reason Mr. O'Connell would leave abruptly? Business? Personal?" Jacob caught a hint of fear cross Sara's face when he asked the question. When she replied that she couldn't think of anything, the tone of her voice made Jacob think there was something going on.

"If you know of anything or suspect anything, even something tiny...or embarrassing, you need to let me know."

Sara shook her head no, "I can't think of anything Detective."

"What about friends, acquaintances?" he asked.

Sara thought a minute and replied, "Patrick has only a few close friends, he knows people and they know him, but only ones he's really close to are Sasha Davis and her husband Rob."

"Have you talked to either of them?"

"I did, yesterday. Sasha said she hasn't heard from Patrick in a week or so." Sara pulled up Sasha and Rob's contact's in her phone and showed it to Jacob.

"Does he have an office?"

"No, Patrick works from home. He has as long as I've known him."

That comment left Jacob wondering where O'Connell's business records were.

Just then, the door opened to Jacob's office and a woman came in with several bags of Chinese take out.

"Dinners here" she said.

Jacob motioned her over, "Sara, this is my partner, Detective Angela Capriani. Angie, this is Sara Anderson from Senate Leader Stevenson's office. She's reported her boyfriend, Patrick O'Connell is missing."

Angie pulled up a chair and sat next to Jacob, her eyes on the missing persons form on his monitor, "Keep going, I'll catch up."

"What does Mr. O'Connell do for a living?" Jacob asked.

"Import export. He doesn't make a great deal, but he's OK with it. It lets him travel" She then smiled for the first time, apparently thinking about pleasant memories, "We travel a lot. Sometimes he flies us, other times, we go commercial."

"He's a pilot?" Jacob asked with some astonishment.

Sara looked at him quizzically and replied, "Yeah, he has a Gulfstream he keeps at La Guardia." Sara smiled and said, "We also sail. He has a boat at Chelsea piers."

Sara giggled, "We sailed down to the Bahamas two years ago. And we go to Boston and the Hampton's in the summer. He's a really good sailor."

Angela was taken aback, "Really now. He sounds like an interesting character."

"He is, but very private." she replied with a frown. She sniffled and looked at Jacob with teary, pleading eyes, "Please help me find him."

"Tell me about the last time you talked to him" Jacob asked gently.

"I called him Thursday night, a little after six. I had to be at a reception with the Senator Stevenson. We didn't talk long, he sounded...distracted. I asked him if he was OK. He told me he was waiting for some possible new clients. I told him that I wouldn't be down this past weekend, there were some fundraisers I had to go to, but this weekend I would be down. But he cut me off. He said they were coming back. I asked about them and that's when he told me they were...connected, and he had to go. He just hung up. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye or that I loved him."

"He didn't say where he was?" Angela asked.

"Not specifically, just Long Island" Sara replied.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Jacob asked.

"My parents. I have to go back to Albany tomorrow morning" she replied.

"Ok, why don't we go over to Patrick's and look around. It'll give us a starting point." Jacob said. He stood up and turned to Angela, "Take Miss Anderson down stairs and we'll drive her over. I'll call the boss and fill him in and meet you downstairs."

Angela said to Jacob quietly, "When we get back, I'll start the warrants for phone records and financials." Jacob nodded grimly.

Angela nodded and took Sara by the arm, "Come on sweetie, we'll start figuring out what's going on."

Jacob called their boss, Senior Detective Mark Dwyer at home. Normally, Dwyer would read over reports from the night shift in the morning but, Jacob wouldn't blindside him with a possibly politically connected case.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" was Dwyer's reply, once Jacob filled him in as he was heading down the stairwell. "What's your first read Jacob?" he asked.

"My first thought is he's ghosting her in a big way. When I asked her if she could think of a reason he would leave, she said she couldn't, but, there was something that crossed her face. It was just enough for me to notice. What it is? I dunno, but my hunch is, she's holding back something."

"You think she might be fucking around up in Albany?" Dwyer asked.

"Possible. She's young, hot, bright. I wouldn't put it past her." Jacob replied. "But if he's gonna ghost her, why abandon a place in this city?"

"Well, we're gonna cross every T and dot every fucking I on this one. If our boy is ghosting her, then that's her problem, but until we know, you and Angela are on this one." Dwyer said. He then continued, "I'll see you two tomorrow afternoon. But write up everything so I can get this up the chain. K?"