Max tries to get hold of you, instead of finding me directly. Then a mysterious person videotapes Linda the night she vanished. Next, someone associated with Max begins stalking me and leaving packages at my back door.” Simply recounting these details gave me the chills. “And finally, Max referenced you and Linda, implying something terrible would happen if I didn’t take his case.”
“But you are taking his case,” Maria said, “so his threat is an empty one.” As I pondered the logic of this, she added, “Do you really think Linda disappeared, Steve? Isn’t it possible she decided you two were through and cut the cord? Is there any evidence she was taken against her will?”
“No, it’s just a feeling I have.”
“When you were a cop, did you ever get a feeling about someone you knew for certain was guilty, only to find out later they had nothing to do with the crime?”
“Yeah, sure, but—”
“Maybe all these interlocking coincidences are just that. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I know what you’re trying to say, Maria. Still—”
“When you came home to find Linda gone, was your first thought that she had been kidnapped? Of course not.”
“That was before all these other incidents occurred,” I interrupted her. “At first glance every crime scene appears to be a random act, until you learn the culprit had a connection to the victim. In my heart I believe Linda left me of her own free will, but until I see her again my mind believes there’s a connection to Max and, by extension, you.”
“I get the whole Max-Linda connection. She was your fiancée. What I don’t understand is how you think Max could get you to do anything because of me. Until six months ago, we hadn’t spoken in years—a fact I seriously doubt Max even knew. What kind of leverage am I? Why not threaten some other girls from school like Shari Taylor or Lauren McCain? It really doesn’t make sense.”
I am losing her, I thought. “I think it’s because of something I told Max the day before I left Delta. The day of my mother’s funeral.”
The silence on the phone line was deafening. Even though we had talked about our feelings for each other during the Barry Jones investigation, I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to my confession to Max, so many years ago.
“Which was?” she asked slowly.
I took a deep breath and began to unburden myself.
“Prior to the start of the service, I had told Max of my plans to leave town. When asked if you knew, I said you didn’t and swore him to secrecy. He told me the idea was dumb and that I shouldn’t do such a thing to you.” I hesitated, hoping Maria would say something. Greeted by sustained silence, I continued. “We looked over at you crying in the front pew and at that moment you gave me one of your angelic smiles of encouragement. Even with this sign, I told Max I believed I was doing the right thing. Then I said if anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, because I would always love you, no matter where our paths would lead.”
Maria’s response was quick and brutal.
“I’m utterly stunned, Steve,” she said coldly. “First, I think you’re delusional to believe that little speech registered in Max’s mind. And secondly, I’m having a hard time believing you made that statement.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I think you’re trying to manipulate me into going on this human scavenger hunt.” She let out an angry sigh and added, “My heart is telling me you did say that to Max, because you followed through with your escape plan. Still—”
“I swear it’s true.”
“—my head is screaming, It’s a trick! That you’re toying with my emotions due to our past. It’s all very confusing.”
I didn’t reply immediately. I was guilty of her last charge and we both knew it.
“You asked me why I thought Max would use our relationship against me and I told you,” I said. “But regardless of his motivations, the fact remains he brought up your name in a menacing manner and I think you’re at risk.”
“I can’t do this right now. I have to think about it and talk it over with someone,” Maria replied, her voice agitated.
“With Trudy?” I inquired, knowing Wayne’s insufferable wife would certainly talk her out of coming with me.
“With someone,” came the short retort. “It’s complicated.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“When are you leaving?”
“I was thinking Tuesday.”
“I’ll call you Monday afternoon.”
“Maria,” I implored, “you might be in real—”
“I can take care of myself,” Maria interrupted me. “Max isn’t going to harm me or Linda before your investigation starts. Like most of the events of the last few days, that doesn’t make any sense.” Her tone softened a bit. “I promise I’ll call Monday.”
The line went dead.
I placed the phone in its base and realized I had lost Maria for good. The only thing we really shared was our idyllic few years of high school together. In the decade-and-a-half since, I had ignored her, frustrated her, angered her and confused her. Who was I to think I had any control over her? I knew she would call Monday but figured I should start making solo plans, as there was no way she would be accompanying me anywhere, anytime soon.
***
With only time to kill, I decided I might as well start looking through Max’s box of investigative fun, hoping to uncover some buried clues I could use to shortcut this strange assignment.
I took the various folders out one at a time, carefully removing every piece of paper to make sure there were no hidden bugs, bombs, or surprises attached to them. After inspecting the box’s inner walls, I replaced all the folders, except the one marked POLICE REPORTS, which I set on the kitchen table. Finally, I put the box in a corner, not wanting to be reminded of it—out of sight, out of mind.
The contents of the box formed the prosecution’s case against Max, plus a few items he felt supported his case. I knew from experience the arrival of this cardboard container often meant the end of the line for a defendant. After seeing the evidence collected against them, many criminals swiftly embraced the plea-bargain route. Obviously, this did not happen with Max, who probably fought this charge tooth and nail using his ill-gotten funds to buy his own legal dream team.
I cracked open the POLICE REPORTS file, somewhat fascinated to learn how the jury came to its Guilty verdict. Max was right when he suggested I look at this as a cold case. I was disgraced off the police force before I made Detective, a rank I knew I could have achieved in time. Maybe now I could use my skills from my bad old days as a copper to bring peace to my present convoluted life.
“Good luck with that, pal,” I said to the kitchen appliances.
I began to read Officer David Morse’s
