Page 43 of Dead Man's Wish
I turned and walked back the way I came. Around the block was a back entrance to the apartment. I couldn’t risk Nicky seeing me and shouting my name, calling attention to my existence. It’d be enough to make the cops curious, and curious cops weren’t my favorite toys. If they dug in the right corners for information, they’d discover too much and I’d lose every future opportunity to have Bexley.
I couldn’t let that happen, so I walked away.
Tonight, the game changed. I narrowed my scope and focused on her—only her.
Twenty
August 18, 2025
Detective Bishop
There wasplenty I could’ve done to stop Jaiden—roadblocks, handcuffing him to the porch, even chasing after him with lights and sirens. The kid had a determination no one could get in between. There was a look when someone was faced with losing everything. I saw it then. It wouldn’t matter what barrier I put up; he’d have broken them all to get to her. The least I could do was flex the badge and privileges to ensure they got there safely.
Bishop: Get me Bexley’s cell phone location and her most recent phone records. Cut whatever tape necessary, it’s an active kidnapping. I need to know what we’re about to walk into.
Eddie: Within the hour
“You’re letting them go?” Andy walked through the front door, but she looked out to where they were just parked moments earlier.
“Are you going to stand between Jaiden and his wife?” She shook her head, a sheepish grin fainting over her mouth. “We need to get evidence from the bodies, locate the missing officers that were also on duty, and then comb through the house. I sent a request to cross state lines with their local authorities, so when that comes through, I’ll be heading out.”
Andy nodded, taking in the front door scene. Camera out, she started planting markers and taking photos. Looking around, I saw the evidence seemed to stop at the threshold. Not a single piece of lint had been out of place when I first arrived. Making my way to the kitchen, I couldn’t even find a dirty dish to look at. I walked down the hall, sighing and dreading the end I feared. A missing person’s chances were higher with successful and abundant evidence collected within the first forty-eight hours. Only, our track record of evidence and answers didn’t prove hopeful.
The first door I came to was open. Peeking in, I could tell it was Jaiden’s office. Industrial furnishings occupied the dark room. The man had an aesthetic he stuck to. His office sat on the front side of the house, and despite the dark nature, there were floor-to-ceiling windows.If someone was watching her, they’d need to be far enough away to not alarm the officers but close enough to watch how she moved through the house.The woods that lined their property would be my next focus after clearing inside. With the weather lately, anything worth collecting would have a high chance of being washed away or affected by the elements. Nothing screamed out of place—Jaiden was a particular sort. He preferred organization and everything had a place, meaning everything here was still where it should be.
Diane and I had been invited over for enough dinners that the layout of their house came like a second nature. Across from Jaiden’s office was a guest bathroom, and the next room was Bexley’s office. Jaiden was adamant she was in there all night. It was where he said goodbye and last saw her. That didn’t mean she was locked in there and confined to the space, but she was working. Which meant, if she left, she’d return here.
Her door was open, too. It had a similar layout to Jaiden’s, floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall but her desk in view of the door. Bexley was his opposite. Papers littered the ground, but I knew her well enough professionally to know that this wasn’t the mess of a surprise attack. Evidence boxes were stacked in front of the window and her desk had several manila file folders stuffed and piled high.Same evidence, new case.It was a sentiment I found almost endearing coming from her, but now it haunted me.
I carefully treaded over the scattered papers to her desk. These were files I’d given her over time. I knew what was in them like I knew what was in my fridge. This case consumed us—both cases had. Standing here, I could see out the window from my periphery. If she was being watched and tracked, they had a perfect vantage point. Decent daylight would let her see into the woods a bit until the density picked up. At night, I could just see to the wooded edge. If someone was watching her on the lawn, it would’ve been obvious if she happened to look out. An officer walking to his patrol car confirmed that much. I pulled out my phone again.
Bishop: Can we have a patrol team search the woods at the edge of the Wells’ property?
Stan: I’ll make the calls.
Pocketing the device, I left the folders where they lay. Nothing in them would tell me where she was.
“What made you answer the door, Bex?” My whispered question was said to no one, the unnatural silence broken by my soft words. A small side table had photo albums precariously placed on top of each other. I picked one up, turning it over in my hand. They were the old leather-bound kind, where you peeled back a plastic film and inserted the photo between it and the paper layer. I’d searched through a couple of them a month or so ago. Brent’s childhood left me depressed. Setting it down, I focused on the scattered papers. Knowing Bexley, this was her mind personified: a mess to most but a system for her, filing away pile after pile as she sorted them mentally.
The largest pile called to me, and I picked up paper after paper, scanning the text and accompanying picture attachments. They were the same we’d filed away years ago, only a few documents from this case mixed in.
Useless then, useless now. I’m so tired of feeling useless.
The second pile was more refined and medium in size. I wagered she sorted what felt like priority information from the larger stack. A shrill ring cut through the quiet, startling me from my trance on figuring out her brain.
“Bishop.”
“I was able to pull some phone records,” Eddie said on the other end. “Looks like Bexley received a phone call just before midnight. It only lasted for a few minutes, but the number was unlisted.” That piqued my interest.
“Unlisted? Who’d call her that late from a private line?”
“I had the same question, which is why I worked some . . .magic.” Magic from Eddie meant don’t question the means and ethics behind the work. “Looks like that number came into service a few months ago and belongs to Jeffrey Peters.”
“Peters? The lawyer?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t understand either. With that little oddity, I wanted to triangulate where it came from.” Eddie’s pause was uncomfortable.
“Yeah?”
