Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

“As I understand it, you didn’t report her missing until Sunday.”

“She texted me on Friday. Said she was going to see her parents.”

“You think that was odd?” Rick asked.

“No. She’s close to home and her mom has been after her to visit.

“We were supposed to see a movie on Sunday. When I called her that morning, she didn’t pick up. I started asking friends if they’d seen her. No one had, so I called her mom. They hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks. That’s when I got scared. When all of us got scared.”

“What’s Elisa’s cell phone number?”

Cheryl rattled off the number, which Jake wrote down. He’d have the number searched immediately and see if it could be pinged off a cell tower.

Jake moved to a tall chest of drawers painted an off white. On top were a mirror and a collection of lipsticks. Several were a pale pink and one or two were clear glosses but there was one tube that was a bright red. The label on the end dubbed it “Siren Red.” There was also a bottle of purple nail polish. It matched the color worn by the victim.

He set the lipstick back down and opened the top drawer. To his surprise he found a collection of very lacy and sexy undergarments. “How did she dress?”

“She liked khakis and sweaters. Very preppy.”

He noted the black thongs and sheer bras. “And these belong to her?”

Cheryl peeked in the drawer. Her face blossomed into a bright red. “She just bought those a week ago. She said she liked the way they made her feel. I was sure she had a thing for a guy, but she said no.”

“And you believed her?”

“Like I said, I never saw a guy around here or with her. My guess is she had a crush on someone and was working out a fantasy.”

“She do that a lot?”

“She liked guys. But as I said, she wasn’t exactly the sexy type. I figured it was a phase and whoever she had a secret crush on would pass.”

“No odd behavior?”

“No. None. She was a solid science student, but she was young and she didn’t want to feel like a grandma before her time.”

“So she slipped on the undergarments to make her feel sexy and attractive for some guy who might not even know she existed?”

She swiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “That would be my guess. And you know, a lot of young girls wear undergarments like that.”

“What else did she do to make herself feel young and pretty?” Rick asked as he closed the door.

“She liked to drink and party like any other woman her age. Not a lot, mind you, but once in a while.”

“What about drugs?” Jake had seen straight-laced kids like Elisa do stupid things to get noticed. All thought they’d take a quick walk on the wild side only to discover that the wild side came with fun and also its share of risk and danger. Crossing the line always had a price.

“She smoked a little pot but none of the hard stuff. She understood moderation. She wasn’t like an addict or anything. She just had fun once in a while.”

“You left her in the coffee shop on Friday?” The question came from Rick who stood by a sheer curtained window. He wasn’t looking at her but outside toward the trees and the cars parked on the street.

“Yeah. She was working on a presentation for this week and wanted to finish polishing it.”

Jake moved to the small closet. He opened the door and found a collection of conservative skirts, pants, and button-down shirts. Several pairs of worn brown loafers lined the bottom of the closet.

He pulled on latex gloves. “Mind if I have a look in her closet?”

She bit her top lip and shivered. “No, go ahead.”

He pushed aside the clothes and discovered way in the back a sleek black dress. Judging by the length, it would have hit the average woman several inches above the knee. “This hers?”

“Yes. I have a similar one.”

“I don’t see shoes to match.”

“I borrowed them. They’re still in my closet if you want me to get them.”

“No, that’s okay for now.” He glanced at his near empty notepad. “There was no one that was bothering her? No one that she liked or talked about? No one paying attention in any way.”

“I mean, she mentioned she saw a cute guy at the coffee shop last week. He said hi. She said hi. But that was the end of it as far as I know.”

“What’s the name of the coffee shop again?” Jake asked.

“Blue Note Java. It’s in the West End on Maple Avenue.”

Jake circled Blue Note Java in his notes. Amber had worked at the café five years ago. He tucked the notebook back in his breast pocket and then pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”

She accepted the card, flicking the edge with her index finger. “Sure. Of course.”

He felt for Cheryl. She called in a missing person’s report likely thinking her friend would be found alive and well. “Do you mind if we have a look around while we’re here?”

“No. Take as much time as you need. I’ll be in the living room if you have questions.”

Jake and Rick nodded as she turned and left the room. Both stood in the center of the girl’s room, canvassing everything. Four days ago, the woman lying dead in that cave had been in this room, full of hopes and dreams. She’d been laughing. Maybe crying. Studying. Alive. And now gone.

Rick moved toward the desk and opened the center drawer where he found her checkbook, banking statements, pens, gum, a single earring, and paperclips. All things that belonged in a desk drawer. Lifting the banking statements, he scanned the list of her most recent transactions. “She spends most of her money at the campus bookstore, the grocery, and Blue Note Java. Judging by the list of expenses charged to Blue Note Java, I’d say it was her home away from home.”

“I’ve not been there,” Jake said.

“Neither have I.” Rick closed the drawer and moved to the neatly made bed. He knelt down and pushed up the quilt so that he could see under the bed. He found one storage box and a neatly vacuumed floor. Pulling out the box, he found it layered with a collection of summer clothes. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, a complete search of the room revealed nothing that didn’t fit the profile of a hardworking, very intelligent young woman. Well, nothing except the undergarments.

“Let’s visit Blue Note Java and see if they remember Elisa,” Rick said.

They arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes later, and after circling the block, found a parking spot close to the entrance. The front had a large picture window reminiscent of an old bakery or perhaps a butcher shop. The words Blue Note Java were painted in a vibrant blue arched over the window’s center, and below it the image of a coffee cup filled with steaming musical notes dangled. Lining the bottom of the window was a flowerbox filled with red geraniums that had begun to drop their petals.

Inside the shop, long industrial lights cast a warm glow on walls painted a faint yellow and wide-paneled hardwood floor. On the far wall of the shop stood a coffee and pastry bar and in front of it a couple dozen tables that could seat three or four people each. Nearly every table was filled with young students, some huddled close in conversation and others chatting and laughing.

“Place is hopping,” Rick said.

He glanced at the store hours painted on the door. “Sign says they’re open until midnight.”

Jake and Rick pushed open the door, the bells above it jingling. The instant they entered, the scents of coffee and cinnamon swirled around them as the hum of conversation dimmed. Jake and Rick were plainclothes officers, but both looked like cops. Dark suits could have tipped everyone off or it could have been a combination of swagger mixed with assessing gazes always searching for threats or counting exits. The silence confirmed they would now be the official topic of conversation.

Reaching for his badge, Jake moved up to the register where a young girl stood. She had coal black hair, a firebrand tattoo on

her right arm, and wore a purple shapeless dress that sparkled a little when she moved. Her shorn nails were painted black and a ring glistened from each of her index fingers and thumbs. She looked up at Jake, mild surprise registering in her hazel eyes as she studied his badge and smiled. “Five-O. What can I do for ya?”

He grinned, liking the girl’s familiarity. “My name is Detective Jake Bishop and this is my partner, Detective Rick Morgan.”

“I’m Cleo.”

Slowly, he tucked the badge back in his breast pocket and then dug out his phone. He pulled up the picture of Elisa that missing persons had sent him. “Cleo, can you do me a favor and tell me if you’ve seen this gal before in Blue Note Java.”

For an instant she simply stared at him, a bit stunned, before she bought her focus to the picture. “Yeah, that’s Elisa Spence. She comes in here all the time. I heard she was missing or something. Her roommate, Cheryl, was here looking for her midday Sunday and then I heard cops came by on Monday.”

“How often would you say Elisa Spence comes in here?” Rick asked.

“Almost every day. But I didn’t work Sunday evening or Monday so I can’t say for sure.” Cleo turned to a large billboard covered with flyers and reached for one featuring Elisa’s smiling face. At the bottom was a phone number he recognized as Nashville Police Missing Person’s Department. “Is she okay?”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“I think it was last Friday. She was in here working on a paper.”