Missing Read online

  He rarely sees his children now, even though he is supposed to see them every other weekend. His schedule rarely permits him to make a trip, or have them come out to Washington, especially during the summer. He doubts his ex-wife cares whether he sees their children or not. He tries to keep in touch with them with phone calls as often as he can, and then there are the birthday cards and Christmas cards with money inside. Of course, he pays alimony every month. Their oldest son Aaron will be going to college next year, Carol the following year, and Megan two years after that. He will be paying for their education too. He doesn’t mind, though. What bothered him was how Amy nagged him into paying for their entire education, instead of splitting it as they were supposed to do. Oh well, if that was the only way of being a part of his children’s lives, it was the least he could do. So, at forty years old, this was all he had of a family.

  Finally, he got out of the car and closed the door, then walked into the house. The house is a large three story Colonial located in Chevy Chase. The house sits on a hill and has a long driveway. He liked the house because it offered the privacy he liked. Of the two houses they owned, this was the only one he wanted in the divorce settlement. Amy got the house in Denver and she was very happy with the arrangement.

  His house was very spacious inside. Maybe too spacious. There are six bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, but only he and Kim live here. They rarely have overnight company. A dinner party once in a while, with a few people who might stay over if they are too drunk to leave, but that was about it.

  He also had a very spacious office, which he keeps locked. There is also den, a formal sitting room and a couple of rooms upstairs he had no idea what Kim was using them for, nor did he care to know. Lately, Fitzpatrick found himself hiding from her in his locked office. He didn’t bring a lot of work home, but just wanted the privacy.

  Fitzpatrick walked into the kitchen and put his car keys on the counter. The kitchen consisted of chrome appliances, expensive marble countertops, and cherry cabinets. To him, the cabinets made the kitchen look too dark. But, the kitchen was Kim’s doing. When they were married, she wanted the kitchen remodeled, so he paid to remodel it.

  The house was quiet, although he wasn’t surprised. It was midnight. He was sure Kim had finally given up and gone to bed. At least he hoped so. With so much on his mind, he didn’t want to deal with her. Not tonight anyway. He walked through the kitchen into the great room. A single lamp gave a soft amber glow to the room. As he looked around the well-appointed room, he had to admit, overall, Kim had done a good job decorating. It had cost him a lot of money. Because of his money, she had made the house better, more luxurious. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could afford her in the lifestyle he had originally bragged to her about. He was sure that was the only reason she was attracted to him. Since then, she was having too much fun spending what he was making.

  “You’re late,” Kim said from the top of the stairs.

  Fitzpatrick didn’t look at her. “I had a lot to take care of,” he lied, placing his briefcase down next to the couch. He sat down on the couch and stretched his legs out.

  She walked down the stairs. Kim was only five foot five, but she was sleek and slender. Her straight silky blonde hair hung down past her shoulders. She was ten years younger than he was, but looked even younger than that. Kim was beautiful and didn’t wear much make-up. She just didn’t need it. Her bare looks turned the heads of any man she walked passed. Sometimes he wondered why she had ever picked him. Had he struck her as more than he was? She had to have been impressed with the job he had and the hope of how high he would go in the future. Kim liked the Washington society and hit on him the moment she found out where he worked. His ex-wife had ragged on him for years to be more assertive in getting what she wanted him to accomplish. Then, when he went after what he wanted, she divorced him. Amy wanted him to run for Governor, he didn’t. Kim, on the other hand, also wanted him to assert himself, but for a different reason. The higher a position he held, the higher the society she could circulate in, and, of course, the more money he would make that she could spend.

  “I’m sure you did. Have a bad day?” she asked when she had gotten to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Lately, everyday is a bad day.” Especially when he had to deal with Harper. He took off his suit coat, and laid it across the back of the couch. He looked over at her. She was wearing a pale pink sheer short nightgown. He sucked his breath in as he looked at her. The nightgown didn’t hide much. Her body was as perfect as her face.

  “Hungry? I think Hannah fixed you a plate. It’s in the microwave.”

  “Sounds good.” He had mostly drunk his dinner tonight and he was a bit hungry. At least food would help burn off the alcohol. With Kim, he had to be alert.

  Fitzpatrick got up and walked back into the kitchen. He opened the microwave and found a plate sitting inside. He took off the cover, closed the door, and then pressed the reheat button. Then he walked over an upper cabinet and got out a glass. A wine cooler was located in one of the lower cabinets. He opened the door and pulled out a bottle of pinot noir Cheverny. He didn’t care what wine went with what food this was his favorite. And, he didn’t care that he had already drank more than he should have tonight. By the time he opened the bottle, poured himself a glass of wine, the microwave bell went off. He placed the glass on the breakfast table sitting in the corner, then went to the microwave and took out the now hot plate.

  He sat the plate on the table, got a fork out of the drawer, and then sat down. Kim walked into the kitchen, sitting down across from him. She crossed her left leg over her right and the silky nightgown slid higher up on her leg. He glanced at her long legs, and then looked back at his meal. He knew what she was doing, and it wasn’t what most men would think. At best, she was manipulative. He bought into it in the past, but not now. When she did things like this, she didn’t want him; she usually wanted something else. Most of the time she wanted more money.

  “Are you going to be home this weekend?” she asked.

  Fitzpatrick stuffed a piece of lasagna in his mouth. He loved Italian food and was glad when Kim had hired the slightly portly Italian cook, who cooked a lot of Italian meals. He relished the bite before answering.

  “I’m afraid not,” he finally said.

  Kim let out a long sigh, folding her arms across her chest. “Where are you going now?”

  Her voice had an edge to it that make Fitzpatrick cringe. He put down his fork and looked at her.

  “I have to follow up on the hurricane that hit Texas a month ago. I have to make sure needs are being met. I am the head of the Disaster Operations. So, I have to follow-up and make sure everything is going as well as they are telling me. It’s my job, Kim, you know that.”

  “Yes, I know what your job is,” Kim said, her voice raising an octave. “What I don’t like is that you are constantly gone on weekends. I would like to go somewhere for the weekend. Have some fun, instead of sitting here in this big empty house.”

  Fitzpatrick shook his head. She was being manipulative again. She seemed to think that he would fold to her desires every time she raised her voice.

  “I don’t have a choice. When disasters hit, I have to go there and coordinate the relief efforts.”

  “That seems to be happening a lot lately.”

  Fitzpatrick nodded. “Yes, I know. That happens in nature a lot, and we have no control over what or when a natural disaster will occur. But, it’s the end of summer and it will be over soon.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do while you are gone?”

  He looked at her a moment. She was pouting, but this time he was not going to give in. He picked up his fork and took another bite. Then he got an idea and looked up at her.

  “Go somewhere for the weekend. Go stay at a spa, go to a hotel somewhere, do whatever you want to do.” He knew that whatever she did, it would cost him. She would get even with him by charging everything she could to his credit card. New clothes,
makeovers, massages, whatever she could think of. It never failed to amaze him how many things she could charge sometimes.

  She glared at him for a few moments, and then stood up. “All right. That’s what I will do then.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know right now. I will call Susan tomorrow morning and see where she would like to go. Guess I’ll see you whenever you get back.” She stood up and walked out of the kitchen.

  Fitzpatrick nodded. No, it was more like whenever Kim got back, he thought. Susan was Kim’s best friend. They were about the same age, but Susan had higher tastes and she brought Kim along for the ride when they went shopping. Susan was teaching her how to spend money. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to afford either one of them.

  Their relationship had changed too. They had only been married three years, but their intimate life was pretty much over. She often complained she didn’t feel good. At other times, he noticed she seemed far too happy, much too content. He wondered if she was getting her action somewhere else. That was all right with him. He had married a trophy wife and now he was paying for it. Thank goodness, he was going to be gone for a couple of days. Then, when he came back, things were going to change. They had to.

  CHAPTER NINE

  EARLY SATURDAY MORNING

  John Murphy sat on the edge of the twin bed. His head was finally clearing and, as he looked around at his surroundings, he was confused. He remembered the flight leaving London, looking out the window at the English Channel below him and the storm in front of them. The last thing he remembered was some kind of smell. After that, nothing. Right now, he had no idea where he was or what day it was. He looked down at the clothes he was wearing. He was still in his uniform.

  He looked around the room. It was a small room, maybe ten feet square. In one corner was the twin bed he was sitting on. Ahead of him, in the next corner, was a small three-foot square table and one wooden chair. A large pitcher of water and a glass sat on the table. Slowly, he stood up. His legs still felt weak. He stood for a minute until he became steady on his feet. Then he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. It was then that he noticed his rolling suitcase sitting next to the table. He took it over closer to the bed.

  To his right, on the same side of the room, was an enclosed room with a door. He walked over to the door and opened it. It was a very small bathroom, consisting of nothing more than a toilet. But it was just what he needed right now. When he finished, he washed his hands in a basin filled with water that was sitting in the fourth corner on a small round two-foot table. He wiped his hands on the towel that was lying on the table. Underneath the table, he noticed four gallon jugs of water.

  There were no windows in the room. A single light fixture in the center of the ceiling supplied the only light. There was a door. But, it was locked. A light switch was next to the door. He didn’t remember turning the light on, but maybe it had been on when he got here. He just didn’t remember. John looked around the room again. Except for the amenities, the room reminded him of a cell. Walking back to the bed, he sat down again.

  Why am I here, he wondered. He vaguely remembered several men, but no one seemed intent on harming anyone. Where was his crew? Were they alright? He shook his head. Why was all this happening? Suddenly, there was a sound at the door.

  A man opened the door and walked in. He was about five foot eight, had thin light brown hair, combed over the bald spot on his head. He was at least fifty pounds overweight, was wearing a white shirt and dark blue dress pants. In his hands was a white plastic container.

  “Is everything alright in here, Captain Murphy?” the man asked.

  John wondered how the man knew his name. He stood up. “No. I want to know why I am here. And I want to know about my crew.”

  The man sat the container on the table, opened it and took out a plastic plate from inside. He sat it on the table, along with some silverware and a small cup of some liquid. John noticed the gun tucked into the front of his pants. The man picked up the empty container and turned towards him.

  “Your crew members are safe. You are in a house. You have my word none of you will be harmed. I will bring you your meals. If you have any requests, I will do what I can to get whatever you want. Is there anything you would like to read?”

  “How long are we going to be here?”

  “Just a couple more days, then you will be able to go home.”

  John sat down on the bed, hung his head and then nodded. “Yes, I like to fish and camp. If you can find some magazines like that. Also, I’d like to see a New York Times newspaper.”

  “Okay. The magazines I can probably get you. The newspaper, no. Sorry. What about books?”

  He looked at the man and nodded. “Yes. I’ve always wanted to read War and Peace.”

  John knew if was going to have to stay here for a few days, he would need something to keep himself preoccupied and he couldn’t think of better book to accomplish that.

  “War and Peace?” The man pulled a small notebook and pen out of his pants pocket and made a note.

  John nodded. “I would also like a pad of paper and a pen.”

  “Okay, I’ll see if I can get the book and I’ll be back later with the magazines. And, yes, I can also bring you some paper and a pen too.” He paused a moment, looking over at the water underneath the small table. “There is water to wash and drink. If you go through the gallons of water that has been left, I can get you more.”

  John nodded again and thanked him.

  Then the man turned and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. John got up and went to the door, listening for any sounds, but heard nothing. Not even the sound of walking. He looked up and around the walls. They seemed to be normal walls, painted a light grey. Since he could hear no noises outside the door, he wondered if it was a soundproof room.

  Suddenly, he felt helpless. He was here at the mercy of someone else and couldn’t change his situation. Was the man right? Would they be released in two days? He could only hope. What time of the day is it? He looked down at his watch. It was now eight o’clock. But was it morning or night? He looked over at the plate sitting on the table. It was breakfast. Then he wondered where yesterday went.

  He walked over to the table and sat down in the chair. He was hungry. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten. Since it seemed the man was going to take care of them, he might as well eat. As he picked up the fork, he thought of Julie. Did she know he was missing? How was she taking it? The safety of his crew was important, but so was his wife. He had to get home to her. She had been sick lately and he needed to be with her, to take care of her. They had made plans to spend time together. He had to keep up his strength and make it home to her. He just had to.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SATURDAY MORNING

  FBI OFFICE, NEW YORK CITY

  Matt was sitting at his desk, working on the computer. It was now ten o’clock and he had been here for two hours. He was still bothered about the non-existent tour company. Why would someone book a plane flight and then cancel at the last minute? He had tried everything he could think of, but simply couldn’t find anything out about the tour company. Nothing anywhere close to Elite England Tours. Most tours he knew about had a detailed trip schedule, with set times of doing things, including the trip home. It didn’t make sense. Was it a fictitious company?

  Matt wasn’t sure what else he could do. He thought about checking out the six passengers, but at this point, he saw no point in it. Until they found some remnants from the plane, there was nothing to do.

  So far, he hadn’t heard from Boyer, which meant they hadn’t found the plane yet. That bothered him too. It didn’t make sense that the plane would just disappear. If the pilot had flown into a storm and the storm was the cause of the crash, why hadn’t anyone found debris from the plane?

  Just then, Matt’s cell phone rang. When he looked at the screen, he sucked in his breath, and t
hen answered.

  “Agent Palmer? This is Conrad Boyer.”

  “Yes, Mr. Boyer. You work Saturdays?”

  “I did today. I had to come into work.”

  Matt felt a knot beginning in his stomach. “Has something happened?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  Boyer’s voice sounded nervous. Matt knew something was wrong and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.

  “Okay. What happened?” Matt held his breath.

  “They found Flight 3351.”

  He sat up straight in his chair. “They found the plane?”

  “Yes, sir, they did.”

  “Had it crashed?”

  “No, they found it parked in a remote airport in far eastern Quebec, Canada.”

  He narrowed his eyes, looking at nothing. “Canada? Isn’t that a bit off the flight plan?”

  Boyer sighed. “Yes, it is.”

  “Has anyone there boarded the plane?”

  “No. The airport manager there said the plane’s doors are closed and he didn’t try to open them. There were no steps up to the door and the emergency chutes weren’t used. There are steps at the airport, but hadn’t been used. At least as far as he knows. He walked around the outside of the plane but couldn’t hear anything. Nor did he see anyone looking out either. Right now, he is just watching over the plane. The airline is calling in a flight crew to fly the plane back. We want to know what you want to do.”

  “I appreciate you calling me. Let me get back with you in a few minutes. I have to report this. Then I’ll let you know what will be happening.” He already knew what they had to do. They had to get on that plane.