“Before we get started, I’m not sure you know Kenneth Myers,” the commander said, indicating the man Jake hadn’t recognized. “He’s the PLEA representative.” PLEA was the Phoenix Law Enforcement Association, the local officers’ version of a union.
Jake exchanged a quick nod with the man.
“We’ve had several discussions since we talked with you yesterday,” the commander began. “And in light of new information, we’ve come to a decision.”
“What new information?” Jake asked.
“Jake Oliver, we are here to inform you that as of…” Pausing, the commander glanced at the clock on the wall. “Four minutes past noon, Wednesday, May 22nd, your services are no longer required by the Phoenix Police Department.”
“What?” Jake couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Oliver, that you’re only terminated and not arrested.”
“But…but I didn’t—”
“You can appeal the decision through PLEA.” The commander looked over at Myers, who’d been nodding throughout the conversation.
“You can do that, yes,” Myers said. “But my advice would be to just move on, son. Some people just aren’t meant for this line of work. No shame in that.”
Fired? Not meant for this line of work?
Forget all that. Forget it! Berit. Remember Berit.
Jake halted his slide into a numbness that threatened to consume him, and said, “Sir.”
“What is it?” the commander asked, sounding like he’d been hoping Jake would meekly accept the circumstances and leave.
“I have reason to believe another officer is in danger.”
Suddenly he had everyone’s attention.
“What are you talking about?” Sergeant Stroop asked. “Who?”
“Officer Davies, ma’am. Berit Davies. I believe she’s missing. I found her—”
“Mr. Oliver,” the sergeant said. “Officer Davies has asked for and been granted a leave of absence to deal with a death in her family.”
“A death in her family? But—”
“I think this meeting is over,” Commander Ashworth said. “Mr. Oliver, I’m told your things have been boxed up and will be waiting for you at the desk on your way out.”
He barely heard the commander’s words. “Officer Davies doesn’t have any fam—”
“That’s enough, Mr. Oliver,” the commander said, standing. “If you feel the need to make more of this, talk to Mr. Myers. But as far as I’m concerned we’re finished here.”
Ashworth walked around the table, followed by Stroop and Myers. Jake watched in disbelief as the commander walked out the door. Before Sergeant Stroop could do the same, Jake said, “Wait!”
The sergeant looked over. “Yes?”
“Sergeant Stroop, did you personally talk to Berit?”
“That’s department business, and you are no longer a member of this department.”
He could see the answer in her eyes, though. She hadn’t talked directly to Berit. He was willing to bet no one had.
The sergeant’s face softened a bit. “You’re young, Jake. You’ll find something else.”
She left.
Myers, who had been waiting behind her, stopped in the doorway. “I trust there won’t be an appeal.”
“No,” Jake said, knowing there was no future for him in the Phoenix PD even if he should somehow win.
“I thought not.”
22
Jake did everything he could to find Berit. He tracked down what friends she had, and learned in the process that he was probably the one who knew her best. As for family, what he’d been trying to say at the meeting was that she had none, not close anyway. She was an only child whose parents had died in a private plane crash somewhere back east. There might have been aunts or uncles or cousins, but Berit had never talked about them.
She had been from Atlanta, a big city where the name Davies wasn’t exactly unusual. When he checked an Atlanta phone book at the Phoenix public library, he’d found over forty listings. Dutifully, he had called them all, but none of those who answered had ever heard of Berit.
For two days he staked out her townhouse, finally breaking in through the back patio door when he began to worry that she might be inside and hurt. He’d been smart enough to use gloves, but the instructions he’d found on the Internet on how to pick a lock had not accurately described how hard it was. It took him nearly thirty minutes to get the door open, and when he was through, he’d made enough scratches on the locks to leave no doubt what he’d done.
What he found inside confused him even more. Though her place was nearly as neat as it always was, it was evident that some things were missing. Clothes and toiletries, mainly — things someone would take if they had to leave in a hurry. There were even indentations on the bedspread that could have been created by a suitcase or a bag.
Had she really left? Had Sergeant Stroop been right?
As much as Jake had thought not, he couldn’t refute what his eyes were seeing. Someone had been here, and taken the things Berit would have taken with her. Even her running gear was gone.
But if he was wrong, then why was her phone under a car at the impound yard? That aside, why hadn’t she tried to get a hold of him at some point? She knew he was on thin ice. She would have wanted to know what happened, at the very least.
For the next several days he kept searching and calling people, but nothing brought him any closer to knowing where she was. Even the few contacts on the force who would still talk to him knew nothing more than that she was on extended leave.
By the second week he’d run out of leads, and was left with visiting the places he knew she liked to go. By the start of the third week, he stopped doing even that, and began to accept that she had indeed left town. Why, he couldn’t even begin to imagine, but apparently, given her lack of communication, it wasn’t his business. She was probably distancing herself from his problems, and there was no way he could blame her for that.
For the first time since he’d been fired, he started to think about what he was going to do now about his life. He’d been away from his home in northern Minnesota for five years now, and while Phoenix had been the place he’d spent the most time, it was no longer home. In fact, it probably never had been.
He needed a fresh start. A new place. New people.
California, he thought. He’d always wanted to live on the coast.
He called his landlord and gave his thirty-day notice. As for where in California he’d end up and what he would do when he got there, he could figure that out later. For now, it was just good to know he was moving on.
But then the next day his phone rang, changing his plans.
“Am I speaking with Jake Oliver?” a male voice asked. In Jake’s estimation the man was probably middle-aged, and sounded like he was used to being in control.
“Who’s this?” Jake asked.
“Robert Usher,” the man said. “Are you Jake?”
“Yeah. Why?” Jake had a sinking suspicion this was some sort of sales call. He poised his thumb above the disconnect button, ready to hang up.
“I got your number from one of the officers at your old job.”
Unconsciously, Jake moved his thumb away from the phone. “Who?”
“Officer Haywood.”
His former partner? They hadn’t exchanged a word since Jake’s suspension.
“What is it you want, Mr. Usher?”
“I have a potential job opportunity for you. That is, if you’re looking for work.”
Usher’s words surprised him. “What kind of job?”
“I’m recruiting investigators for my firm, Usher International.”
Jake was taken aback. “I’m…not an investigator.”