Page 4 of She Didn't See It Coming
Detective Jayne Salter, of the Albany Police Department, is at dinner at home in her apartment near Washington Park when the call comes in. She picks her cell phone up off the table, glances apologetically over the flickering candle at the man across from her, swallows her mouthful down, and says, “Jayne Salter.”
“Sorry to bother you at home, Detective, but we’ve just had a report of a woman going missing. Failed to pick her child up from day care. The husband called it in. Uniforms are on the way to the home now.”
She glances at her watch. It’s 6:51 p.m. “I’ll be right there. What’s the address?”
“It’s a condominium building—Constitution Drive, unit 804. In Buckingham Lake.”
She writes it down and disconnects the call. She looks at her boyfriend, Michael Fraser, who has stopped eating and put down his knife and fork. He’s observing her with dismay. It’s March 7, the one-year anniversary of their first date, and he wanted it to be special. He’dmade her favorite meal, linguine with seafood, and bought champagne. She’s only had half a glass, she’ll be fine to drive, she thinks to herself. And then she realizes that she is doing it again—she’s putting her job first. Her first thought should have been for Michael, who’d made all this effort.
And then she thinks,but should it?Should she be more worried about his disappointment than about finding this missing woman? She realizes that she feels defensive already, because she can tell that he’s not happy about it. Well, he knew when he met her what she did for a living.
She rises from the table. He stands too. “I’m really sorry about this, Michael, you know I am. But a woman is missing, a woman with a child.”
He nods, resigned. He kisses her goodbye.
She gathers her coat and bag. “You eat, I’ll warm mine up when I get back.” She adds, “I’ll try not to be late.”
“Sure,” he says, with a rueful smile. “I’ll eat in front of the TV. I’m sure there’s something good on Netflix.”
•••
Jayne arrives inless than ten minutes. A police cruiser is parked on the street outside the luxury condo building, and she pulls up behind it. The condo is a large, sandstone-colored building of about ten to twelve stories. It looks like most units have balconies. There’s a curved drive leading into it from the street. The front entrance is rather grand, with an arch with100 Constitution Driveemblazoned on it. It’s an attractive building, in a good neighborhood. Jayne enters through the glass doors, quickly taking in the concierge desk to the left; the bored-looking young man sitting behind it doesn’t even lift his head. The floors are glossy and the interior appears to be well maintained. The bank of elevators is on the right. She makes her way to the desk and holds up her badge. “Is the building manager here?”
He looks at her badge with alarm and says, “No.”
“Get him here urgently, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s reaching for the telephone as she turns from the desk, walks across the lobby, and takes the elevator to the eighth floor. She glances up for cameras but doesn’t see any. The elevator pings as she arrives. The doors slide open and she walks down the corridor, the soft carpet deadening her footsteps. She greets a female uniformed officer standing outside unit 804, then opens the door and enters the foyer. At first glance, she can see that the apartment is spacious and decorated in light, neutral tones. She can see beyond the foyer and short hall into the living room, which is carpeted in a tasteful beige. A man and a woman are sitting side by side on a large, plush sofa and look up quickly as she enters. She’s met by Officer Hernandez, who steps away from the couple and speaks to her quietly.
“We just got here. The husband’s pretty upset,” he tells her. “The missing woman’s sister is here too.”
Jayne makes her way into the living room and sits down. Officer Hernandez stands beside her. “I’m Detective Jayne Salter,” she says. She studies the man sitting across from her, his knees apart, hands clasped tightly. The husband. She knows that when a woman is missing, it’s often because of the husband, one way or another, but she tries to keep an open mind. He looks distraught. He’s attractive and well dressed, although a little disheveled; he’s thrown off his suit jacket, loosened his collar, and removed his tie—the jacket and tie are on the arm of the sofa, the tie a splash of red—and he’s obviously been running his hands through his hair. She notes that his hands are trembling slightly; he clasps them in an attempt to hide it. The woman beside him is average looking, petite, with medium-brown, chin-length hair. Her blue eyes are alert.
“I’m Sam Frost,” the man says, “Bryden’s husband.”
“I’m her sister, Lizzie Houser,” the woman says.
“We’ll do everything we can to find her,” Jayne says, leaning in. She focuses on Sam. “When did you first realize your wife was missing?”
He swallows nervously and says, “I got a call from the day care. Bryden hadn’t picked up Clara. That was about five thirty. She usually picks her up at five. They’d been calling and texting her without any answer. I tried to reach her then too, but she didn’t answer. I picked up our daughter and got home at about six thirty. I left Clara with a neighbor and called the police. Bryden’s phone is here, on the dining room table. And her purse is here. I just can’t imagine her leaving home without her purse and phone—”
“What about her car?”
“It’s here, parked in the underground parking lot.”
“Okay. Excuse me a moment,” she says to Sam. She walks into the kitchen beyond the living room and makes a call to Detective Tom Kilgour, who she knows has already been apprised of the situation and is on his way to the police station. “I need you to get a team here at 100 Constitution Drive to do a full search of the entire building.”
“Got it,” Kilgour responds.
“It’s a condominium. The missing woman’s car is here, and she’s left her phone and purse behind, so she might still be in the building somewhere. Have them check all the common areas—the exercise room, the storage facilities, the parking garages, the roof, everything.”
“Maybe she’s fainted somewhere or fallen in one of the stairwells,” Kilgour suggests.
“Maybe. If she doesn’t turn up in any of the common areas, we’ll need to go to every unit, see if anyone saw her. I’ll get you a full description and a photo.”
“I’ll let you know when I arrive with the search team.”
“When you do, I’ll come down and we’ll speak to the property manager. He’s on his way. We’ll want access to all CCTV in and around the building.”
