"That's your next step, then?" I asked.
"Nope. First I get Kent Dugan down to the hospital for an ID—tonight if possible."
I wanted to be there in the worst way, wanted to meet the guy, but I also wanted my alone time with Jeff. "Okay if I bring my HPD investigator friend?"
"Sure. I'd love to meet him."
Though Jeff was tired after his long day at the courthouse—he says court is more tiring than fieldwork— he agreed a trip to the hospital might be interesting. First we'd shared our quiet dinner and engaged in other activities not so quiet before heading to Ben Taub to meet up with Cooper Boyd.
Jeff held my hand a whole lot tighter the minute we walked through the hospital doors. He'd been shot in the chest by a bad guy last year. I understood his reaction without his saying a word. He didn't like being reminded of the day he nearly died and neither did I. It was a very silent elevator ride.
We found Cooper in the neuro ICU waiting room—he'd sent the private security on a break—and since he and Jeff seemed to hit it off immediately, Jeff reverted to his old self. Law-enforcement types seem to quickly discover they know some of the same people. But they both put on their game faces when Kent Dugan arrived.
As Roberta had mentioned, Dugan was a pretty boy— reminded me of a Calvin Klein underwear model, as a matter of fact. He wore jeans with small tears and frayed seams along with a rock group T-shirt—at least I assumed Wilting Wilma was a rock group and not a euphemism for something I didn't want to know about this guy.
"Where is she?" He sounded downright panicked and seemed to be addressing anyone and everyone in the waiting room.
Cooper introduced himself and said, "She's in very capable hands. Let me show you a picture first—see if you recognize the young woman we're talking about."
When we'd first arrived, I gave Cooper the article I'd found under the clock, as well as a copy of the picture I'd scanned and Photoshopped. I'd enlarged JoLynn's face and cropped out the family. I wanted to avoid having anyone ask the questions Roberta had, about who all the other people in the picture were.
Dugan grabbed the photo and stared. "That's her, but where did you get this?"
"Never mind," Cooper said. "We need to talk, Mr. Dugan."
"I have to see her." He started for the ICU doors, but Jeff did a quick side step and blocked his path.
"Who are you?" Dugan asked.
"Sergeant Kline, HPD Homicide." He took out his pack of Big Red and offered a stick to Dugan. "Let's sit over there and chill for a minute."
Dugan didn't even seem to notice the gum. "Is Elizabeth dead? Is that why you're here?" The man couldn't be more than five-nine and had to look up at Jeff, who's six feet tall.
"Not dead—though someone did try to kill her." Cooper gestured at the cluster of waiting-room furniture. "She's not going anywhere and we need to discuss what happened."
Being double-teamed had the desired effect and Dugan walked over and sat on one of the sofas, his eyes focused on the ICU entrance.
We all followed and I held out my hand. "I'm Abby Rose, by the way. I helped identify your wife."
Dugan squeezed my hand briefly and squinted up at me. "I don't know you. How could you identify Elizabeth?"
"That's a long story." I sat on the edge of a faux-leather and chrome chair opposite him, and Cooper sat next to me. Jeff went over to a counter where an industrial-size coffeemaker sat. He started checking cupboards for cups, since none were visible.
"As I told you on the phone," Cooper said, "we pulled your wife from the wreckage of her car. Her brake line had been cut. I understand she's been missing for more than a year."
"Um, yes." Kent Dugan's expression told me he was surprised we knew that piece of information, but he quickly recovered. "Who would want to kill Elizabeth? She'd never hurt a fly."
"Good question. We're hoping you can help, Mr. Dugan," Cooper said. "What about her disappearance?"
"She has been gone, left on her own. She said she needed time away from the relationship. She's ten years younger than me and wasn't as ready to settle down as she thought."
"How young is she?" Cooper asked.
"You don't know?" Dugan said.
Cooper leaned forward, his gravel voice low. "What's her age, Mr. Dugan? Where is the rest of her family?"
Dugan stiffened. "She's twenty and Elizabeth has no family except for me."
"Interesting." Cooper sat back. "When people disappear voluntarily, it's been my experience they head straight for Mom or Dad—or maybe another relative. What you're saying is that she had nowhere to go."
"I—I never looked at it that way." Dugan seemed a little flustered by this assessment.
"What's the story with this nonexistent family?" Cooper asked, taking a Styrofoam cup of coffee from Jeff.
Jeff handed another cup to Dugan and tossed packages of creamers, sugars and stirring sticks onto a table beside the sofa. Jeff raised his eyebrows questioningly at me and I nodded. I was ready to settle in with some much-needed caffeine and watch Cooper work. I was certain I'd learn a lot.
"I don't know what happened to her parents," Dugan said. "I don't believe she knew, either."
I blinked at this answer. What the heck did that mean? "Where did she grow up?" I asked.
Dugan's tongue traveled over his lips and he took a sip of coffee. He then stared into the steaming cup he held with both hands. No wedding ring, I noted. "Elizabeth and I . . . we didn't know each other that good when it came to our pasts. We agreed it wasn't important. We loved each other and that's all that mattered."
Cooper leaned in again. "What kind of bullshit answer is that?"
From the corner of my eye I caught Jeff's expression as he filled cups for the two of us. Small grin. He liked Cooper's style.
Meanwhile, Dugan's magazine-ad face tensed. He avoided Cooper's hard stare by stirring sugar into his coffee. "She wouldn't want me telling you, but I guess you won't let me see her until I do. Elizabeth was adopted and it wasn't a good situation. She wanted to forget. That's all I know."
Cooper smiled. "Thank you. Where'd you meet her?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Dugan looked at me, perhaps to avoid Cooper's unblinking attention.
But Cooper wasn't letting him off the hook. "I ask, you answer. Then it's your turn, okay?" Pleasantly spoken, but no question. Cooper wasn't fooling around.
"At community college. San Jacinto." Dugan's reply was clipped. He was getting impatient now.
Cooper reminded me of a sculptor chipping away at stone. I could recognize the personality now emerging, the one Roberta had described. Dugan had no control here and he hated it.
"Any children?" Cooper asked.
"No." More edginess in his tone now.
"She never contacted you after she left? Not once?" Cooper pressed.
Dugan shook his head, and I decided he was trying to recapture the concern he'd displayed when he arrived. "I would have notified the police if she had. But I always knew she'd come back. And in her own way, she has."
"Not exactly her own way," I said, holding the coffee Jeff had given me. He was settled in the chair next to me now. I was afraid Cooper might be pissed off by me voicing my opinion, but his passive face gave nothing away.
"Can I ask why you're questioning me like this? What have I done wrong?" Dugan said.
"What do you do for a living?" Cooper said, ignoring this request to get off the hot seat.
"I'm a consultant," he replied.
Cooper leaned back, sipped his black coffee. "Really? Sounds important. You have a business card I could have?"
"I didn't bring any with me. I didn't think I'd need one." Testy again. There was a real struggle going on in this guy's head.