"But she regretted her decision?"
Roberta hesitated. "I think so, but she never uttered a bad word about him. I could see what he was like, though. Controlling, demanding, calling her cell phone every five minutes. I swear the only time she ever left the house was when she came to see me."
This fits the pattern of someone being abused, I thought. "Was she afraid to leave home?"
"That was my guess. My practice has brought me in touch with every kind of human behavior—it's not only animals we deal with here, but their owners. I've come to know Kent Dugan's type."
"And you're absolutely positive she didn't leave on her own?" I said.
"Not absolutely sure. Maybe she got brave one day and made a break for it. Maybe I was wrong to think she'd confide in me if she planned on running off. Or at least say good-bye. God knows I would have helped her get away."
Time to ask the obvious. "Any sign of physical abuse?"
"No. I think his abuse was all emotional or mental or whatever the right word is. I dubbed him 'the snake'— to myself, of course. I usually pick an animal counterpart for everyone I get to know. And Elizabeth was no mongoose, unfortunately. More like a pet mouse whose days were limited."
I wondered what my animal counterpart was—and immediately decided not to ask. "Has Dugan said anything about his wife since Elizabeth disappeared?"
"I wouldn't know. I moved out of the neighborhood after I adopted two Dobermans. They needed a bigger yard."
"Can you give me the Dugan address?" I reached in my bag for my BlackBerry.
Roberta's dark eyes grew concerned. "You won't tell him where she is, will you? He doesn't need to know. He doesn't care about her."
"But if they're still married, he has a right to know. He's her next of kin."
Now her eyes flashed with anger. "I don't give a damn about his rights. He certainly never cared about hers."
I took a deep breath and decided to tell her the rest. Roberta cared about Elizabeth or JoLynn or whatever her real name was, cared a lot. "I really need that address. See, the wreck was no accident. Someone tried to kill your friend."
Buttons suddenly sat up, his old eyes focused on Roberta's face. Her beautiful, dark skin lightened a shade, especially around her lips. When she finally spoke, it was a whisper. "It was him. I know it was him." Then Roberta knelt and stroked Buttons, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes.
"I promise you that a policeman will probably inform Dugan, not me," I said quietly. "The husband will know the authorities are on alert. And if it helps, Elizabeth has security and private-duty nurses."
Roberta looked up at me. "Don't let Kent Dugan fool you or the cops." Then she stood and finally gave me the address. I thanked Roberta and gave her my card, then started to leave the way I came in. But before I was out the door to the waiting room, I heard her call, "I don't know what animal you are yet, Abby. I think you're part bloodhound, though, and that's good."
16
After I walked out of Oakdale Veterinary Hospital and into the ninety-degree heat, I took out my phone and called Cooper. Apparently he was dealing with a drunk or a druggie, because I could hear curse-laden shouting in the background. He told me he'd call back after he "straightened out a situation." His attitude—calm and in control—reminded me of Jeff. Jeff, I thought as I slid behind the wheel, I'll see you soon, thank goodness.
I pulled out into traffic, the air-conditioning blasting away the sweat on my forehead created by the thirty-second trip to my car. I headed for home, even though I wanted very much to go straight to Dugan's address or at least find his phone number and call him. But that wasn't my place. Once I gave Cooper the information, he would decide how to proceed.
Cooper didn't call back until after I'd made it home around five o'clock. I'd stopped at Central Market to pick up dinner—a Mediterranean salad, roast beef for sandwiches and a container of Kalamata olives. I was craving salt and since Jeff will eat any olive on the planet, even if it just fell off a tree, I went with the kind that made my mouth water. Diva checked out what was on the menu once I placed the grocery bags on the counter. Smelling no salmon, she left with an angry swish of her tail.
When the phone rang, I'd been hitting the olives hard and was filling a tall glass with ice water.
"What's going on, Abby?" Cooper asked.
"I found out where JoLynn Richter was right before she showed up at the ranch last year."
"Wow. I'm impressed. Tell me."
I did, then said, "But she might still be JoLynn Richter, not Elizabeth Dugan, right?"
"I don't know, Abby." His ragged voice was filled with skepticism. "Cops tend to go straight to the less-than-pleasant aspect of human nature—that tendency people have to lie through their teeth. But tell me what you're thinking."
"I keep going back to the letter she wrote me. Katarina Richter could have given her up for adoption, JoLynn found out and for some reason, she felt like she had to provide proof to Elliott Richter when she arrived at the Richter home. She gave him that missing birth certificate with Katarina's name on it to back up her other ID. As added proof, maybe she even showed Richter the tip sheets I sent her, the ones that help adoptees find their biological parents."
"But if she really is JoLynn Richter, why fake a birth certificate?" Cooper asked.
"Sorry. Guess I should explain. Adoptees have to petition the court for their original birth certificates. That costs money. Maybe all she had was the birth certificate issued after she was adopted with the first name Elizabeth and a last name we don't know."
"Couldn't she have explained this to Elliott Richter?" Cooper sounded exasperated.
"You're right. What she did is way too contrived. There's more we don't know." Disappointment washed over me. I so wanted some part of JoLynn's story to be true—and why, I didn't know.
"What did you pick up on last night?" Cooper asked. "Do any of those Richter folks know something?"
"Oh, for sure. But even Elliott Richter hasn't been all that forthcoming."
"Why do you say that?" Cooper said.
"He knew JoLynn's driver's license was fake before you did. Matthew told me last night. Richter's holding back for some reason—and I can't figure out why. The only thing I know is that he wants JoLynn to be the real deal and hopes I can prove it."
Cooper sighed heavily. "Are all your cases this complicated?"
"Not all, but the tough ones are like trying to dig a ditch in the ocean. Right now I'm grateful I can bring in the heavy equipment like you, Jeff and my sister to make the job easier."
He laughed. "I've never been referred to as heavy equipment. Anyway, tell me about the family."
I took a generous gulp of water and gave him a more complete rundown on last night's interviews, ending with Matthew's confession about using a private eye. "For all we know, the birth certificate might not have even existed."
"True. All we have is Richter's word. But his word has been good in the county for a long time, so I'm still ready to give the man the benefit of the doubt. I've been asking around, and no one in town much likes that family—except for the main man, Elliott Richter. He's well respected. I checked into the financial situation. He's worth megamillions, a lot more than I realized. The relatives have a lot to lose if Elliott rewrote his will in favor of JoLynn. Maybe we should ask Richter if that's what he's done."