Chapter Eighteen
Detective Steven Clark was part of a small team inside the Driftwood Police Department that would occasionally be assigned what is commonly known as "Cold Cases." That designation generally meant that the trail of finding the criminal or answers to existing questions in what might be a crime has gone no where in the past. Each month, the Driftwood District Attorney's Office would make a selection of a few cases, and if things were slow, the team would attempt to "warm" a case or two.
Clark had expected the cold case files to arrive, things had been slow. The most heinous crime of the week in the small beach community was the biweekly siphoning of gasoline from someone's motor home. Every two weeks a new coach had been robbed of ten to fifteen gallons of fuel. The odds of actually finding the perpetrator was actually small because it was a "catch in the act" kind of crime. Motor homes make an easy target, they usually are equipped with large tanks and only plastic doors protecting the filler cap. Anyone knowing what they're doing can easily get by the anti-siphoning ball inside the filler neck and steal the fuel.
His attention was drawn to the cold case file his lieutenant dropped on his desk, the disappearance of Mark Waters was approaching its two year anniversary. Steven's partner against crime, LaShay Jones, had a file assigned to her as well, another disappearance case of Robert and Vanessa Garvey.
LaShay opened it up and quietly read the latest news on the missing couple. There was a series of pictures in her file of the couple, individually and together. She thumbed through her assigned report, making notations on her own notepad when the need came up, and when finished closed them both. The last entry into their file was over six years ago. "Want to trade?"
Steven had just finished the same procedure and closed his file. He looked up at the very pretty African-American woman that he'd worked with for just over a year. "Yeah, why not. I've had this case before about eighteen months ago. Maybe fresh eyes will see something."
They swapped files and made new notations on their own paperwork. Before Steven could finish looking at the new pile of papers in front of him his extension began to ring. He answered it, "Detective Clark."
"Steve, the DA just brought you a few more documents for your file. Seems the courts have recently declared him dead and his estate has been transferred. Might be enough to look into," his lieutenant told him.
"I'll be right down."
LaShay looked up at the tall skinny man as he stood, "What's up?"
"That file you're looking at, has some new info coming for it! Looks like we have some work to do."
"Hurry back."
Steven left his desk and hurried to where the papers waited for him. He walked down the flight of stairs and knocked on the window of his bosses office, opened the door and retrieved what was waiting for him.
He began reading the new information as he returned to his desk. LaShay looked up at him and asked, "What do ya got?"
"Just property transfer stuff. Almost all of it goes to a female named Amanda Michelsen. The rest goes to his parents. His estimated net-worth was in the millions! That doesn't sound right," he extended his hand reaching for the file his partner was looking through. Opened it up and found what he was looking for and let out a small whistle.
"Something new?"
"I'd say. This guy vanished and became a millionaire while he's gone! Now that he's gone, his girl, not his wife, he wasn't married, but this Michelsen chick gets it all." He continued reading, set the paperwork down and looked up to LaShay and said, "We need some pictures of this girl for the file."
"I'll go requisition a camera." LaShay stood up and locked the Garvey file in her desk since it wasn't anything pressing at the moment and headed out of their shared cubicle.
"LaShay?"
"Yeah Steve?"
"Get a couple of rolls of film and an extra set of batteries. I don't want the camera dying on us like it did the time before last."
"You got it."
Chapter Nineteen
It had been almost a year since she had been to Mark's house. She hadn't been inside since the police were called to investigate. Way back when, Mark had given her a key, but she never used it, and when she traded off her old Honda before Mark's disappearance, she thinks that his house key went with the car because she hadn't seen it in just about the same amount of time.
She turned right onto the cul-de-sac and parked her black Mustang in the driveway. She was still dressed to the nines, as she got out of the car, she had to again, pull her dress down to cover things. She dug the keys out and tried a few of them until one fit in the door and actually turned. She opened the houses front door and closed it as soon as she was inside. The alarm control panel was behind the door and she keyed in the proper code that was written on the business card of her new attorney.
She put everything in her purse and put her purse on the coffee table in the front room. The house smelled musty, and was stifling hot, so she opened up a window in the kitchen and the back sliding glass door. The view was stunning! The house sat away and above the rolling ocean. Gentle waves were the only thing getting through the small jetties that provided boat access to the private pier and boat slips for the neighborhood homes on each side of her new home. She had trouble thinking of it in that way, but the truth was the truth. Everything she touched was hers!
"Amanda. . . ." a small voice called to her.
Startled she turned around and saw no one. Did she actually hear her name? It actually sounded like it came from behind her! Was it real, but after thinking about it, she decided that she could have been imagining it too! She had been holding her emotions in check since the attorney's office yesterday. But now isn't a great time to let them go and get all blustery either!
"Amanda. . . ." a small voice called to her again. But this time she knew what it was. She walked away from the open glass door and proceeded to the couch. She smiled as she lifted her purse and pulled her cell phone out of it and brought it close to her ear.
"Hello, this is Amanda."
"Girl, I've been calling your name for five minutes!" Sylvia complained.
