Missing. Jasmine Cresswell
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on Sunday night.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “What time was that, Ellie?”
“I don’t recall exactly. I was reading when the phone rang and I didn’t pay much attention. Maybe nine o’clock my time? Ron mentioned he was about to go to bed.”
“That would make sense. Nine here is already eleven o’clock in Miami.” Harry reached automatically for his pen, then decided this wasn’t the moment to be scratching down notes.
“Ron was fine when we spoke,” Ellie said. “I’m sure he’s still fine.” Her tone of voice dared Harry to contradict her.
Harry cleared his throat, which seemed to have developed a permanent frog. “Apart from you, Ellie, the Miami police haven’t been able to find anyone who spoke to Ron after eight-thirty eastern time on Sunday night.”
“Why is that such a big deal?” Megan’s petite frame vibrated with the force of her frustration. “If there wasn’t an accident—if there’s no body—why do the police believe Dad might be dead? I thought adults could go missing for weeks without law enforcement taking any interest. Dad’s been out of touch for less than thirty-six hours. Why are the cops making a mystery out of something so trivial?”
There was no way to avoid describing the gruesome crime scene, so Harry did his best to lead them there gently. “Your father checked into the Doral Beach Hotel around seven on Sunday night. I guess he called down to room service and ordered breakfast for six-thirty the next morning—”
“That would be for yesterday morning,” Megan clarified. “Monday, right?”
“Right.” Harry nodded. “Ron also made arrangements with the hotel parking valet to bring up his rental car at seven-fifteen on Monday morning. He told the valet he needed to be at the airport by eight because he was taking the ten-thirty flight to Mexico City and security clearance for international flights eats up so much time these days—”
“Did Dad tell you he was going to Mexico City?” Megan asked her mother, cutting across Harry’s painstaking explanation. “You didn’t mention to me that he was leaving the country.”
Ellie blinked. “What? Oh, yes. Ron told me he had important meetings arranged in Mexico City. He expected them to last four or five days. I have the name of his Mexican hotel written down somewhere….” Her gaze wandered around the room, as if she expected the note about Ron’s hotel to materialize out of the ether.
“Did Dad say when he would be coming home from Mexico?” Megan asked.
Ellie focused her attention on her daughter with visible effort. “No, he didn’t specify an exact time. He said he had to stop off in Chicago to report on his meetings and check in with his business partners, but he hoped to get back here by the end of next week and he’d confirm later. I never expected to hear from him yesterday when he was traveling.”
Megan’s forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “Why would Dad go to Mexico on business? He always claims there are so many opportunities within the States that there’s no need for him to go overseas.”
“This was something new,” Ellie said. “He’s looking into an investment opportunity for an old friend from college. Something like that. I don’t know the details.”
“We never know the details,” Megan muttered. “Dad’s great on sticking to the big picture and leaving everyone to guess about the rest.”
I’ll just bet the bastard left them to guess, Harry thought angrily. As for Ron’s excuse that he’d be stopping off in Chicago to brief his business partners—what a load of bullshit. Talk about the wisdom of hindsight! If only people around here had known earlier what the son of a bitch was really up to.
Ellie ignored her daughter’s comment. She turned her gaze toward Harry, but her eyes were blind, as if she looked inward to some unshared memory. “I expect Ron will be calling any minute now. He probably changed his plans at the last minute. You know how he does that.” Ellie subsided into silence again, her finger still tapping against her throat.
Megan bit her lip, visibly choking back the urge to crush her mother’s hope that the two of them could expect to hear from Ron at any minute. “Did my father actually catch the flight to Mexico?” she asked. “Is that why there’s so much confusion? Maybe Dad has gone missing in Mexico and there’s a communications problem with the police there?”
The poor kid looked so damn hopeful. Harry shifted from one foot to the other, easing the stress. None of them had thought to sit down, as if shock had deprived them of the ability to make ordinary movements. “No, that’s not it, I’m afraid. The police down in Florida are sure Ron never left the country. Screening is intense on international flights these days and the cops are one hundred percent confident your dad hasn’t flown out of the country.”
“Then maybe he was delayed in Miami,” Megan suggested. “Or he might have been called to an urgent meeting somewhere in the States—”
“That seems real unlikely. Let me explain why the cops in Miami are worried.” Harry gulped in much-needed air. “Here’s what happened. The room-service waiter arrived with Ron’s breakfast at six-thirty yesterday morning as requested but nobody answered the door. Eventually, the waiter got one of the maids to open up your dad’s room. They immediately realized something was wrong.”
“Why?” Megan demanded.
“One glance was all it took to see that there had been a struggle,” Harry said, deciding they needed to know the unpleasant truth. “The phone was ripped out of the wall and smashed. The TV was damaged. Several pieces of furniture had been overturned and there was blood in several places. Most of it smears near the bed.”
“A…lot of blood?” Megan asked. The hostility had vanished from her voice, replaced by stark fear.
“Enough blood that everyone was immediately worried for your dad’s safety,” Harry admitted. He chose not to tell either of the women that a quick preliminary test showed the blood had come from at least three different people, suggesting a minimum of two attackers and a brutal fight. Or it was possible that the blood might have come from one attacker and two victims, raising the embarrassing possibility that Ron Raven hadn’t been sleeping alone.
That was an avenue Harry definitely didn’t want to explore with Ron’s wife and daughter. He hurried on with his explanation. “Even before the hotel security staff could initiate a search of the premises, they had word from the parking valet that your father’s rental car had gone missing. The valet was afraid the car had been stolen since they still had possession of the keys, but the car itself was nowhere to be found.”
“Why did they assume the car had been stolen?” Megan asked. “My father could easily have had a second set of keys.”
“But he didn’t,” Harry said flatly. “The Miami police have checked with the rental company. They only gave your father one set of keys. Besides, the car has already been found. It was abandoned in a restaurant parking lot close to the ocean, about ten miles from the hotel. There was a set of keys left in the ignition.” Keys that had been polished to a high gloss, obliterating any possibility of fingerprints. Keys that were so shiny it seemed likely they’d been cut within the past twenty-four hours.
“There were more blood traces in the trunk of the car,” Harry said when neither woman spoke. “The evidence suggests pretty clearly that a body had been lying in there.”
“In the trunk of the car?” Megan asked, her voice very small. “Oh my God.”
Harry gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry, Meg. Real sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Except that it clearly wasn’t okay. Struggling to regain control of herself, Megan cast a quick glance toward her mother. Ellie’s face was paler than the first snow in winter, but she met her daughter’s eyes and delivered a ghastly caricature of a smile.
Realizing that her daughter was temporarily