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  Rox couldn’t argue. Her client had been flaky from the beginning. “Maybe Shay was protecting her sister. My understanding is that Jill supported her.” Another reason their client might have lied about her sister’s name. Cat! Maybe it was a nickname. Not that it mattered. The real concern was Logan. If his aunt was a killer and his mother didn’t want him, his life looked pretty bleak. Wherever the hell he was.

  Kyle shifted in his chair. “I shouldn’t be talking about any of this. So I should probably go.” He started to get up.

  She grabbed his arm, not wanting him to walk out with the case file in his briefcase. She had to see the reporter’s notes. “Please don’t. I’ve had a rough few days and I’d like you to stay over.” Also true.

  “Okay, but let’s watch a movie and not discuss work.”

  “And have sex again?” Rox smiled seductively.

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Before drifting off to sleep, she set her mental alarm to wake up in two hours. She’d trained herself to do that when she worked intense cases at the CIA. Rox woke earlier than she’d planned, but Kyle was snoring softly when she climbed out of bed. On her tiptoes, she moved to the living room where he’d left his leather case. She sat on the couch, turned on a soft lamp, and pulled out a binder.

  The first few pages of notes about Lexa Robbins’ murder covered the crime scene, or secondary crime scene, as the task force had labeled it. Robbins’ car had been pulled from a pond off Markham Road and her body discovered in the trunk. A gunshot wound to her head had been “fired from a close range of less than four feet.” The primary crime scene had not been determined, but blood spatter in the driver’s area indicated Lexa had been shot at the wheel.

  Kyle had told her most of that already. Rox skimmed over the trace evidence, looking for a summary of the reporter’s investigative notes. She found them in the second section, which held photocopies of Lexa’s articles and background information. Rox read eagerly, learning that the governor’s sister had been divorced because she couldn’t have a child and that Shay and Jill had both been to the same Hopewell fertility clinic in Salem.

  Interesting, but probably not relevant. Rox kept reading and learned that Jill and Shay’s family name was Goyer, the sisters had gone to high school in Crescent City and Shay had a LinkedIn profile that was only partially filled out. The next line in the file gave her a glimmer of hope. An address in Canby. The numbers locked into place in Rox’s memory. She read the parenthetical note: Jill Palmer owns the property, but Shay Wilmont lives here.

  That meshed with Shay’s admission that her sister supported her for taking care of Logan. That must be where the boy had spent most of his life before his mother had him locked away. What if Logan had gone to the Canby house looking for his aunt? Rox decided that she and Marty should drive up there, first thing in the morning.

  The last line of Lexa’s research was the most intriguing: Gov’s childhood nickname is Cat. Check birth records. Check Hopewell fertility clinic. Get JKS to hack records? Had the reporter followed through with the hacker? Rox intended to track him down and find out. She slipped the binder back into Kyle’s briefcase and realized he had another notebook in there. She reached for it and discovered it was a high school yearbook. From Crescent City. Had Lexa Robbins found this somewhere? Or had Shay given it to her?

  Rox flipped through the pages, looking for images of either Jill or Shay out of curiosity. She found Jill’s photo under the heading Most Likely to Succeed. Rox barely recognized the governor’s younger self, but the label said Jillian Skylar Goyer. She skimmed a few more class sections and spotted a face that looked nearly the same. The photo was labeled Shannon Adrian Goyer.

  Footsteps gave Rox a jolt. She closed the yearbook and tried to shove it back in the briefcase. But Kyle was suddenly in the room. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Chapter 31

  Friday, October 19, 7:25 a.m., Portland

  Rox heard a loud engine and sat up. Tires screeched as the vehicle raced down the street. Just her neighbor late for work again. She glanced at the empty space beside her in bed. Kyle had said a lot of angry things after finding her reading his files, then he’d abruptly left. She had tried to explain why the case was so important, but he hadn’t listened or cared. She suspected he was gone for good, and the thought depressed her. But he was right; she’d blown it.

  After brewing coffee, she sent Kyle a heartfelt apology text, then decided to skip her dance workout and get back on the job. Logan and Shay were both still AWOL, and the Mt. Angel staff was still abusing patients.

  An optimistic thought cheered her up. Maybe Logan had found Shay. The boy had borrowed twenty dollars from Marty for bus money, leaving a note promising to pay it back. Maybe Logan and his aunt were driving out of state right now. Rox knew better though. The journalist had gone to interview Shay, then soon after had been shot in the head. It seemed likely that one of the sisters Lexa had been investigating had done it. Even though Jill Palmer might have more to lose, Shay had been in the vicinity and might have killed Lexa Robbins to protect her sister from exposure. Shay was probably on the run and hadn’t likely waited around for Logan.

  Where the hell was the boy? Rox couldn’t live with the guilt of Logan ending up on the streets. She had to do whatever she could to find him. The reporter had considered asking a hacker for help, and Rox had toyed with the idea earlier too. It seemed like the logical next step, and she wanted to get it done before Marty showed up, ready for the drive to Canby.

  After dressing in jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt, Rox sat down with her laptop. All she had were initials but with a little guesswork, she hoped to find Lexa’s hacker friend. She opened an email from her anonymous account and addressed it to JKS@google.com, then added three blind recipients: JKS@hotmail.com, JKS@yahoo.com and JKS@iCloud.com. Next she composed a message that she hoped would win the hacker over:

  First, let me say I’m sorry for your loss. Lexa Robbins’ life was brutally cut short. As a private investigator, I’m trying to help solve her murder. I know she was investigating the governor, and I found your contact information in her notes. She had planned to ask you to “look into” some files for her. Did you get that request? Do you have the information she wanted? If so, I’d like to buy it from you. Or hire you to get it. Please contact me ASAP. Other lives may be at stake.

  —K. Jones

  The last part sounded melodramatic, but she had said may, so it was theoretically true. The patients at Mt. Angel were at risk from abuse and punitive shock treatments, which could affect their stability and could lead to suicide. Rox read through the message again and pushed Send, hoping she wouldn’t hear from four different people.

  A minute later, Marty knocked so softly, it made her smile. Her stepdad was being tender with her and thought she might be sleeping. “Clear.”

  Marty hustled in. “Are you really up for this?”

  “I’m already on it.” She pushed aside her computer and headed for the kitchen and more coffee.

  When they were seated at the table, she said, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  His eyes flashed with alarm.

  “Okay, bad news first. Kyle broke up with me.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s the good news. Sort of.” She ran her finger around the top of her cup. How to make her behavior seem acceptable? “I read Kyle’s case notes on the journalist’s murder. Without permission. And he caught me.” Her bluntness had overridden her intentions. Again.

  “Damn.” Marty rubbed his head. “That’s regrettable, but maybe he’ll get over it.”

  “Unlikely.”

  He peered over his glasses. “So how is that good news?”

  “I learned a few things from Lexa’s notes, including a hacker’s initials. Making some guesses, I just sent an email that I hope will get to him. Or her.” Rox gulped coffee, then shared the other details she’d read.

  Marty’s brow furrowed. “What’s the interes
t in the birth records?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll ask the hacker to check them out. We could probably do the work ourselves, but it could take too long the legal way and may not even be important.”

  “Then we should start searching for Logan again.” Marty scooted back his chair, ready to go.

  “I found Shay’s address, so we’ll start there.” Rox stood. “But let’s wait a few minutes to see if I hear from the hacker. I offered to pay.” She hurried to her laptop, which was still on the couch.

  An email from JKS@iCloud.com sat in the top of her in-box. Rox clicked it open, eager to see the response: Your news about Lexa is depresso. I can’t even! But I’m intrigued by your request. Send details of what you want and how much $. Jason

  The hacker was on board—unless his fee was outrageous. “He got back to me,” Rox yelled across the room.

  Marty hurried over, sat next to her, and read the email. “Depresso? He can’t type a few more letters? Millennials are so lazy.”

  “Not important. He’s going to get us the intel we need.”

  “Maybe.” Marty stood again and started to pace. “It’s interesting that he’s asking you to make an offer of money. He doesn’t want to cheat himself by asking too little.”

  “I’m prepared to give him Shay’s whole payment if he comes through.”

  “Two grand?” Marty spun toward her with wild eyes. “Are you crazy? Offer him $400. It’s probably only a couple hours of work.”

  Rox wrote back: I’ll give you $200 up front plus $300 more if you come through with data. This is what I need: 1) Jill Palmer’s patient file at the Hopewell fertility clinic. 2) Birth record for her child. 3) Logan Wilmont’s file at Mt. Angel Psychiatric Hospital. 4) Any record of Lacy Jaskilca at that same hospital.

  Rox sent the email, as Marty asked, “Who is Lacy Jaskilca?”

  “A missing young woman. Her father called a few days ago and asked me to take her case.” Rox caught Marty’s eye. “Sorry I didn’t tell you about it. That wasn’t intentional. We were just busy with Logan, and I wasn’t sure we could take it on.”

  “But you’re working on it. Why?”

  “Because Lacy may have checked into Mt. Angel, then disappeared completely.”

  “Are you serious?” He stopped and stared, incredulous. “What makes you think that?”

  “A shrink recommended the state hospital at a hearing, then Lacy went missing. So it’s only a possibility, but the connection makes it intriguing.”

  Marty sat on the coffee table and shook his head. “You know what else is intriguing? Shay Wilmont was once reported missing too. I found out when I did the ridealong with Bowman. But Shay had turned up in Seattle, so it didn’t seem like a big deal.”

  Still, it was odd. Maybe Shay and Logan were both in Seattle. Lacy Jaskilca could have left town too. Rox jumped up. “I need to go see Detective Kushing. He’s working the Missing Persons desk at PPB.”

  “Let me go,” Marty said. “You stay here and chat with the hacker. When I get back, we’ll drive to Canby.”

  Rox remembered her conversation with Kyle. “Homicide detectives have already been to that house—because Lexa Robbins went there before she died. They didn’t find Shay. Or Logan.”

  “Logan would have showed up after that. He could be hiding somewhere on the property. He has nowhere else to go.” Her stepdad made a face. “If what we know about his mother is true, he can’t go to Mahonia Hall to be with her.” Marty headed for the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Rox paced the living room, waiting for the hacker to respond. Five minutes later, he sent a short message: LOL! I want $1000 up front and $1000 when I deliver.

  She’d expected it to cost that much. Undaunted, Rox responded: Deal, if you can get the info today. Especially the fertility clinic and birth record. PayPal OK? Send info to this number. Rox keyed in the burner number she’d been using.

  Jason quickly got back to her: Send $ to this PP email now and I’ll get on it.

  Chapter 32

  Friday, October 19, 9:05 a.m., Portland

  Marty walked into the Portland Police Bureau and was hit with a tidal wave of feelings—familiarity, nostalgia, and anxiety all mixed in a jumbled mess. He’d loved his job for thirty years. But it had been stressful too, and he’d breathed a major sigh of relief the day he walked out of here for the last time.

  He crossed the circular foyer, and the sound of his shoes on the marble floor brought back more memories. As he approached the front desk, he recognized one of the officers behind the plexiglass, a woman who’d worked there for years. “Hey, Perkins. How’s the chaos?”

  She looked up. “Marty MacFarlane! Nice to see you. What the heck have you been doing with yourself?” She was fifty-something, thick in the middle, and likeable.

  “Golfing, dating, a little private-eye work.”

  “Sounds terrific.”

  No one in the bureau but Bowman knew about his heart attack or diagnosis. “It’s a good life. And you?”

  “Counting the days to retirement.” She grinned. “Are you just here to visit? Or can I help you with something?”

  “I’d like to see Sam Kushing. I’ve got a missing person to discuss.”

  “One of your PI cases?”

  “Yes, a young woman.”

  “I’ll see if Sam’s at his desk.” She made the call, had a quick chat, and gave Marty a thumbs-up. “Go on back.”

  When the security buzzer went quiet, Marty opened the door and strode down a familiar hall. After a few zigzags, he ended up in an alcove with only two desks. Kushing, a skinny guy with silver hair, sat at one. He glanced up at Marty and smiled. “Old Mac!”

  “Hey, Kushing. Good to see you.”

  “It’s about time you stopped in.” Kushing gestured for him to sit. “I saw Rox a while back, and she said you were golfing quite a bit.”

  “Why not?” Marty grinned. “I’m retired. Sort of.” He eased onto a hard chair. Another good reason to be done here—crappy furniture.

  “You’re working private cases with Rox?”

  “I am. It keeps me from getting dull.”

  “What can I help you with?”

  “Two missing-person reports that may or may not be related.”

  The detective tapped his keyboard to wake up his monitor. “Give me the first name.”

  “Shay Wilmont, possibly spelled with an E.”

  After a moment, the detective announced, “Wilmont comes up with an E like you said. The report was filed just over two years and closed out in a few days.” Kushing peeked around the monitor at Marty. “The file says we checked Wilmont’s credit card and discovered that she’d bought a train ticket to Seattle. The officer talked with her sister, who said Shay had called to say goodbye and that she might not come back.” Kushing paused. “Her sister is Jill Palmer, by the way, who’s now governor.”

  Marty snorted. “I found that out the hard way.” Their client was still a mystery to him. “Apparently, Shay changed her mind and came back.”

  “It was a stressful time for Jill Palmer. Her husband was the governor then, and he’d just died in an accident.”

  Marty remembered. Blake Palmer had been popular, and the whole state had grieved. “Who filed the report?”

  “Heather Dobbs, a friend who said Wilmont had stopped responding to email.”

  “That all seems harmless.”

  “Most reports turn out that way.” Kushing shrugged. “Give me the second name.”

  “Lacy Jaskilca.” Marty took out his note pad and spelled it.

  “I handled that one. It’s still open.” The detective pushed the monitor aside so they could make eye contact. “Here’s the summary. Lacy Jaskilca had a hearing last month related to charges of trespassing and vandalism. A county psychiatrist testified that she’d assessed the defendant and recommended treatment at the Mt. Angel hospital. The judge gave Lacy the option of treatment or jail. She said she would sign herself in.”

  Marty had b
een scribbling notes, and Kushing paused to let him catch up. “This one troubles me.”

  “Why?”

  “A friend reported dropping Lacy off at the Mt. Angel facility, but the hospital has no record of her ever being a patient.” Kushing paused again, his voice uncertain. “Apparently she changed her mind about getting mental help. A warrant was issued for her arrest, but they never found Lacy. Her father filed a missing-person report two weeks ago.”

  Marty jotted down the key words, his mind racing. A witness had seen Lacy Jaskilca at the hospital. That was new information and somewhat significant—considering what they suspected. “Anything else?”

  “I looked into her financials, as well as public transportation records. No sign of her anywhere.”

  “Did you talk to anyone at Mt. Angel?”

  “It was the first call I made, but she wasn’t in their system.”

  “Any reason to doubt the hospital?”

  “No.” Kushing gave him a look. “Should I doubt them?”

  “Maybe.” Marty stood to leave. “When I have something concrete, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Please do. And good luck.”

  Marty figured he would need more than that.

  Chapter 33

  Friday, October 19, 10:15 a.m., Portland

  Knowing it could be a long day, Rox packed sandwiches, chips, and sodas in a lightweight cooler. She wanted to throw in a six-pack of beer too, but they would be on the road, and she wasn’t stupid. While she waited for Marty to get back, she tried calling Shay Wilmont. Still no response. Rox tried to think like Logan. Where would he go besides his aunt’s house? He probably wanted to see his mother, even knowing she would reject him.

  With nothing to lose, she called the governor’s staff on a burner phone. “Jill Palmer’s office.” The voice was female and middle-aged.

  “This is Kay Smith, and I’m doing research for a book. I’d like to speak with the governor please.” Her strategy was to ask for something big and settle for something small.