Carla pulled the two-page form from the printer and handed it to Lauren with a pen. “I’ll make sure Deputy Vork comes by as soon as he gets a break in that murder case.” Carla rose and moved toward the door. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee, tea, portable heater?”
Lauren looked up, unsure if the woman had made a joke.
“You are tense,” Carla said, a smile spreading across her cherubic face.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Lauren said.
Lauren sat for thirty-five minutes alone in the interview room, the cold penetrating to the bone. A shiver rumbled through her body. She glanced over at the one-way glass in the door and wondered if she was being watched.
It took her less than five minutes to complete the form Carla had given her. It consisted primarily of questions regarding Michael’s physical description, schools he had attended, date of birth, and social security number.
She put the form aside and gripped the arms of the chair. In front of her was a metal and wood-laminate desk that appeared to be from the early seventies. The room itself was finished with the same dark paneling she had seen in the hallway. Duty clipboards marked WARNINGS and NOTICES were hanging from nails haphazardly slammed into the wall. Binders expounding rules and procedures were stacked on a small desk to her right, and a baseball cap hung from the pull tag that was attached to a gray metal fuse box.
She turned her body slightly and noticed a small corkboard behind her, with bulletins and employee memos pinned to it. The familiar “DARE” bumper sticker was affixed to the side of a metal file cabinet but after her initial glance, she realized the slogan “DARE to keep kids off drugs” was replaced by “DARE to keep cops off donuts.” She wrapped her arms around her torso and closed her eyes. The room was starting to feel very small.
Just then, a tall, thick man with a full mustache and a hard brow entered the room dressed in an olive and tan uniform. A handgun, baton, flashlight, and an assortment of communications paraphernalia dangled from his utility belt. He leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “I’m Deputy Vork. I was told you’ve got a problem, ma’am.”
Lauren straightened up. “Yes… my husband was on a cross-country ski trip in Colorado and was supposed to be home day before yesterday. When he didn’t show up, I called here to report it. They told me I had to wait forty-eight hours before he was considered missing.”
Vork looked down at the form and scanned Lauren’s answers. “Six-one, one-ninety, brown hair, and hazel eyes. Thirty-eight years old?”
“Thirty-nine in two weeks.”
“Uh-huh, yup. Got that right here.” He turned the form over and hiked his eyebrows. “You’re a doctor?”
“Psychologist.”
Vork nodded, then put the form down and looked at Lauren. “So… Colorado, you said?”
“An old college frat buddy of his was starting some kind of cross-country-skiing tour company somewhere near Vail. This was supposed to be their first big trip, and he invited a bunch of his buddies to help him out, kind of like the maiden voyage or something.”
The deputy nodded. “Then you knew—”
“Excuse me, sir,” a young man said, poking his head through the door. “We’ve got a Channel Ten reporter here, he wants to ask you some questions about the Ellis case.”
“Tell him I’ll be out as soon as I can.” Vork turned back to Lauren. “It’s a big case, people are all bent out of shape over that computer tycoon’s murder. Sorry about the interruption, ma’am.” The deputy reached over and picked up a pad and pen from the desk. “So you know where he went, then.”
“Somewhere near Vail, that’s all I remember. They were going to be camping in the back country.”
Vork nodded. “Okay. Did you know these people, these frat buddies he was going with?”
“I never met them. And I don’t remember Michael talking about them much.”
“Do you know which fraternity it was?”
Lauren shook her head. “All I remember is that it was one I’d never heard of.”
“What college did your husband go to? We can get a list of their fraternities and take it from there.”
“It was some place back east. New York or New Jersey, I think.”
“You don’t know where your husband went to college?”
Lauren shifted in her chair. “We talked about it when we first met. It came up a couple other times when he told me how much he hated the humid summers. We’ve had a lot going on in our lives. The school he went to twenty years ago just wasn’t that important.”
“What about the names of the people he went skiing with? Maybe a phone number?”
“Michael said he was leaving me a note with everything on it. He called my office and said there was an accident on the freeway; and that he needed to leave right away so he didn’t miss his flight. He said he was writing it all down — his friend’s name and number, the flight number, everything. But I can’t find where he left it.”
“So he never actually told you where he was going?”
“He did, he gave me all the details, but when he called, I was rushing to go into an appointment with a patient who was late. I had patients scheduled back-to-back so I had to get the session started. I scribbled his information down somewhere, but I can’t remember where.” She looked down at her lap. “I must sound like a complete idiot.”
“Not at all, Doctor. I’m sure if it was something you felt was important at the time, you’d remember where you wrote it. But he said he was leaving you all the information, right?”
Lauren nodded, then looked at Vork. “I got home late that night and was exhausted. I looked for his note, but I couldn’t find it. I figured he’d be home in a few days, I never thought—” She put a hand up to her mouth and stifled a cry.
“Here,” Vork said, handing her a tissue. “Take a minute to get yourself together.”
Lauren wiped her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, I understand.” The deputy scratched at his ear for a second. “I have to be honest with you, though. A lot of these missing husband cases are just some straying from the hive, if you follow my meaning…”
“Straying… you mean another woman?”
“An affair, yes, ma’am. We get a lot of missing persons around these parts, and other than the occasional skier or backpacker in the mountains getting lost over the side of the road in a snowdrift or some such problem like that, it’s a man doing something with a woman on the side.”
Lauren sat there, trying to decide if she should be angry with the deputy or give serious credence to what he was saying. “Michael wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Is it possible he just up and left, walked away from some kind of stressful situation? ‘Cause that’s also a major reason—”
“No,” she said tersely.
“Well, then. Let’s take this from another perspective. Do you know—”
A loud buzz on his phone interrupted him. “Deputy Vork, line three, please,” the voice on the intercom said.
“Excuse me a second.” Vork punched the line button, then listened for a moment. “Well, tell Detective Jimenez I’ll be out soon as I can. And have the people from Channel Thirteen wait with the good people from Channel Ten. I’m in the middle of an interview here.” He nodded another couple of times, then sighed. “Look, LuAnne, do me a favor and set up a press conference. Do it in the break room and give me fifteen minutes, okay? I’ll talk to all them reporters together. I’d rather not go through the same story five times.” He slammed the phone down and looked at Lauren. “Sorry again, Dr…. Chambers. As I was saying… do you remember what it was that I was sayin’?”