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“She was lonely?” I ask.
“Yeah. She always wanted to have a family, but she was too shy to date anyone. It’s hard finding the right guy, yanno? Scary world we’re in. She didn’t want to have kids with a guy she didn’t trust completely not to turn into a jerk, or worse.”
Yeah. I have no idea what it’s like when the man you think you love turns into a complete ass.
“Do you think she’s okay?” whispers Heather.
“It’s too early in my investigation to say for sure.”
“Oh, bullshit.” Heather sighs at me. “You think she’s dead, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
My turn to fidget. “Speaking strictly in terms of statistics, after the first forty-eight hours, the odds aren’t good. I haven’t seen anything that specifically makes me think Gemma has been killed. I’m only bracing for the worst given the time frame. She could be alive and being held captive somewhere. Or maybe they had an accident on the road and are stranded somewhere together.”
“Ugh. Sorry I asked.” Heather pressed a hand to her throat. “Not sure what’s worse, being killed or kept prisoner by some creep.” She starts to sigh, then stares at me. “If you find this guy, what’s to stop him from doing the same to you?”
“I can handle myself in a fight. I’m also not hunting him down. I’m looking for evidence and signs of where Gemma is. Except for a dire emergency, I’d back off and call the police in to handle the heavy lifting if it comes to that.”
“Oh, okay.”
Of course, I’m saying this purely to calm her down. Plus, I don’t look like an action hero. Then again, I’m not planning to rough the guy up if I find him. If he’s killed or abducted Gemma Fulton, I may drag him physically to the police, but my goal is not to administer ‘frontier justice’ on the spot. Unless, of course, he asks for it.
Speaking of justice, I should probably get out of here before the security team realizes I basically snuck inside while they were all distracted by their fainting boss.
“Thank you for your time,” I say. “I need to get going and figure out where Gemma is.”
“Will you please let me know as soon as you find something?” Heather grabs a stray Post-It pad off the conference room table, on which she scribbles down a phone number and email address. “Please?”
“Sure.” I take the paper. “As soon as I find something concrete, you’ll be the second to know.”
“Thanks.” She wipes at her face. A few tears managed to slip through her attempted restraint.
“Really, stop beating yourself up,” I say.
She shrugs, looks at me. “Do you think that guy was following Gemma or did he just happen to be at Norbert’s?”
“Did she ever mention noticing someone following her around before?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Ever see the guy here? Near her home, or anywhere else?”
Heather shakes her head. “If I did, he had a disguise on or something.”
“If Gemma wasn’t aware that someone was following her, it’s more likely this guy just happened to be there that night. Something about her caught his eye.”
“Weird.”
“Why do you say that?”
Heather picks at a bit of lint on her sleeve. “Gemma’s not exactly the hottest girl in the room. She’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but she looks like the young mom next door… not a vixen.”
I don’t want to say it out loud for fear of upsetting this woman, but some predators are keen observers of body language. A shy woman like Gemma, out of her element in a bar, would appear like an ideal target. Those types of guys want to attack a woman they think won’t fight back or make a scene or be much of a problem to contain. They don’t always go for the ‘prettiest girl in the room.’ They go for the one they think will make for the easiest victim... and susceptible to their charms. Scott showed me a few photos of his sister. The woman’s pretty enough. And yeah, Heather’s comment about her looking like the ‘young mom next door’ is pretty spot on now that I think about it.
Ugh. Does this mean I’m getting old? I look at a woman who’s thirty-two (older than people believe I am) and think of her as a ‘young mom.’
Things are going to get pretty crazy for me when I’m two centuries old. Am I going to start looking at grey-haired people and thinking they’re kids? Heh. Hope not.
I stand, shake hands, and reassure Heather she will know as soon as reasonably possible once I have any good information on Gemma’s whereabouts and condition.
