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  “This is Karina Jones. Where have you been?”

  “Working on an art piece. What’s going on?”

  “We tried to extract Logan, but he had a hallucination and ran back into the hospital.”

  “Oh no. That was just a fluke. You can’t give up.” Shay sounded a little buzzed.

  Was she a pot smoker? “We need your help if you want us to try again.”

  “What can I do?” Breathless too.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. I just lifted something heavy and now I’m in pain. How can I help?”

  “Go see Logan. Let him know to cooperate with us next time.”

  “I’ll try, but the hospital told me I had to wait until after the transfer.”

  Rox had forgotten that. “We have to know when he’ll be at Serenity House, and you must get word to Logan so he’s not scared when we show up.”

  “I will. Thank you for everything. Logan doesn’t see the other boy very often and what happened this morning was just bad timing.”

  No kidding. “Call me as soon as you have information.”

  “All right.” She hung up.

  Rox didn’t care that their client hadn’t said goodbye—she often didn’t either—but it surprised her because most people always did. She looked at Marty. “Is Shay a little off?”

  “Yeah, but it’s nothing I’m worried about. She’s just an introvert. She might even be on the autism spectrum. It runs in families.” He cocked his head, waiting for her reaction.

  Rox couldn’t argue. In that context, their client was fine, so she felt better about Shay. “You’re probably right.” Rox finished her beer. “It would be great if Logan got moved right away and we could plan an extraction from the private hospital. I’d like to wrap this up.”

  “Me too.” Marty stood. “For now, I’m going golfing to relax a bit.”

  Rox nodded. “I’ll drive out to Serenity House and do some recon.”

  The trip to the private psychiatric hospital was intriguing. The facility seemed new, with the same well-manicured lawns as shown on its website. But a quick trip inside revealed that it was understaffed. Another bright spot was its lack of lockdown security. People came and went freely during the remaining two hours she spent watching from the back of the parking lot. Some seemed to be patients leaving with their families and returning. Getting Logan out of this place would be easy by comparison, even if he was kept somewhat secure. Rox wondered if there was a way they could trigger Mt. Angel to transfer him ASAP. That would simplify their mission.

  Back home, she ate another PBJ and washed it down with the last cold beer. Marty’s sedan was still gone, so she suspected he was out with his new girlfriend. A pang of jealousy hit her. Kyle had cancelled their standing weekend date because his mother was still in the hospital. But he’d rescheduled for Tuesday, so she wouldn’t have to wait another week to see him… and get laid.

  A chirping tone broke into her thoughts—her work phone. She grabbed her shoulder bag off the counter and reached for the cell. “Katrina Jones. How can I help you?”

  “You’re a private investigator?” A deep male voice.

  “Yes. Who gave you my number?”

  “Sam Kushing. He handles missing-person cases at the Portland police station.”

  She’d worked with Kushing recently on a case that hadn’t turned out well for his files. Rox hoped this one would be local. “What’s your name and your situation?”

  “I’m Ben Jaskilca. My daughter is missing. She had a court date two months ago, then disappeared.” His voice caught on the last word.

  “What do you mean? She walked out of court and hasn’t been seen since?”

  “Sort of. The records show that she was ordered to get a psychiatric evaluation from the county’s mental health unit.” He paused and gulped air. “This is where it gets sketchy. One person in the department says Lacy never showed up. But a doctor, Ellen something, remembers talking to her and recommending she check herself into the Mt. Angel facility.”

  The damn hospital again! “Did you call the administration office?”

  “Several times. They have no record of her.” The man broke down and heaved a few sobs.

  Rox waited him out. She didn’t know how to comfort people, especially over the phone.

  When he was quiet, she asked, “Did you call the jail?”

  “Yes, and the hospitals. And all her friends. I’ve done everything I could. Can you help me find her?”

  “I don’t know. I’m working another case right now that’s taking most of my time, but I can ask about your daughter as I go along.” Rox reached for the grocery list and pen. “What’s her full name and age?”

  “Lacy Anne Jaskilca. She’s twenty-three. Five-seven, red-haired, and pretty.”

  Rox asked about the spelling and took notes. “What did she do to end up in court, and why would a judge recommend a psych evaluation?”

  A deep sigh from a man who sounded like he had a big chest. “She burned her ex-fiancé’s clothes and books.”

  Oh boy. A woman who didn’t know how to let go gracefully. “Does Lacy have a history of excessive behavior or other mental problems?”

  “I think she’s bipolar, but she’s never been officially diagnosed.” He made a noise in his throat Rox didn’t understand, then said, “I was so happy when that one doctor said she’d actually talked to Lacy and recommended treatment.”

  “Let me think about this and make a few inquiries. If I decide I can help, you’ll need to come into my office with a retainer. I’ll call you back in a few days.”

  “Thank you. Bye for now.” The man hung up.

  He hadn’t asked about her fee, so that meant money wasn’t an issue for him. But she didn’t care right now. The big concrete building on the dead-end street flashed in her mind. What was going on in that damn hospital? Intellectually, Rox knew that the missing woman could be anywhere. Maybe she’d even been killed and buried by the guy she’d pissed off. But instinct told Rox that Lacy had been to Mt. Angel.

  What the hell had happened to her?

  Chapter 18

  Sunday, October 14, 11:45 a.m., Salem

  Lexa pulled into her designated parking space, and the joy of the lovely brunch she’d just had disappeared. The small complex needed paint and dried leaves covered the sidewalk. They’d had a nicer place until Kiona lost his job. The move was temporary, she reminded herself. She was lucky to have a home. Many people didn’t.

  She slipped into the apartment, her body tense. She never knew what kind of mood Kiona would be in. He’d been watching TV when she left and had grumped at her for going out to spend money they didn’t have. She’d told him it would be Carly’s treat. Another lie. During their outing, she’d been a good friend and listened to Carly talk about her own family problems and hadn’t mentioned the governor once. She and Carly had met in college, then lost touch for a while, but reconnected when they realized they were both in Salem.

  Noise in the kitchen edged Lexa in that direction. Kiona was putting a store-bought pizza in the oven. She stepped into the tiny, cluttered space. “Hey, babe.”

  He slammed the oven shut and spun toward her. “Hey, did you have a nice meal?” More sarcasm. But the dark circles under his eyes reminded her that he didn’t sleep well anymore.

  Poor guy. “I did, thank you. But that pizza still looks good.” Lexa grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Nope. It’ll be crappy, just like this crappy stove in this crappy apartment.”

  “What’s wrong with the oven?” Lexa stepped forward. Not another bad appliance. The freezer had quit working last week, and the property manager hadn’t done anything about it yet.

  “It won’t get hot enough. How the hell do you make pepperoni crispy in a crappy oven?”

  “Will you please stop saying crappy?” Lexa’s eyes felt hot. “Being negative doesn’t help.” She fought the tears. Crying didn’t either.

  Kiona stared at her so
long she squirmed. “What?”

  “I can’t take any more!” he shouted. “It’s humiliating to have my girlfriend support me. And you’re not helping.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” She raised her voice without meaning to.

  “Stop being so damn cheerful! And move to Alaska with me. I can get work there.”

  Lexa weighed her words carefully. “I don’t have a job there. And I can’t handle the winters. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s selfish! If you loved me, you’d at least give it a try!”

  Not fair! Now she was mad. “You’re the one who’s not trying.” She regretted the words the moment they were out.

  “You think I’m not trying?” His voice was so cold and creepy, it scared her.

  Instinctively, Lexa stepped back.

  “You’re afraid? As though I might hit you?” Contempt oozed from every word.

  Lexa squared her shoulders. “I’m walking away now.” She turned and headed for the door, forcing herself to seem casual.

  “Bitch!”

  She bolted outside and raced to her car. As she cranked the engine and backed up, Kiona stood on the steps, calling her nasty names. Tears rolled down her face when she drove away. Carly would take her in, but Lexa was too ashamed to talk to anyone right now. The one place she could be alone and comfortable at the moment was the newspaper office.

  Lexa sat down at her desk twenty minutes later and instantly felt better. Here, she was a reporter, a professional woman who was liked and respected. She wasn’t giving that up—not even for Kiona. She turned on her computer and opened her notes for the governor’s profile. So many questions were still unanswered. Why had Jill chosen politics? And would she run again? As curious as she was about Jill Palmer’s personal life, the question that bothered her most was whether the governor knew about the abuse at the hospital. Was that part of why she wanted to close it? Or had Roger Strada pressured her? Palmer had issued a public statement saying she was reconsidering, so she might abandon the idea.

  But what about the patients who were suffering?

  If the reports were even true. The problem with uncovering abuse in nursing homes and psychiatric hospitals was that the victims were often mentally incompetent, so no one wanted to take their word against a professional’s. Her editor had made some changes to the story she’d written, but he’d let most of the quotes about abuse stay. Now he wanted her to find a credible patient or ex-patient who was willing to talk to the police. She had followed up with two of the protestors, but so far, the hospital had denied her visiting privileges to see their incarcerated family members.

  Thinking about physical abuse was too close to home at the moment, so Lexa switched over to the governor’s story. She had to get an interview. Hating herself for being a pest, she called Carly.

  “Hey, Lexa. What’s up?” Her friend sounded concerned.

  They’d just had brunch a few hours ago, so it was unusual to be in touch again so soon. Lexa stalled. “I’m at the paper, and it’s weird being here alone.” Press operators were working in a separate part of the building, but she never saw them.

  “On Sunday? You didn’t mention you had to work today.” More concern now.

  Might as well tell her. “Kiona and I got in a fight, so I left.”

  “Oh shit. Same old argument?”

  “Mostly. He’s having a hard time.”

  “I don’t know why. My brother just got out of prison and started a job four days later.” Carly’s tone indicated she had a lot more to say on the subject.

  Lexa sighed. “I know. Kiona’s being too picky, but I can’t say anything about it without pissing him off.”

  “Just kick him out. That’s what he wants—an excuse to run home to Alaska.”

  Lexa knew she was right. But it was mean to dump someone when they were already down, and she didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m working up the nerve.”

  “You can come stay with me anytime.” Carly’s compassion came through.

  “Thanks.” Lexa worked up her nerve. “Can I bother you again about an interview with the governor?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Carly cautioned, “but this may be good news. Jill’s doing a press briefing Friday about her final hospital decision. I can get you into that and maybe a few minutes alone with her afterward.”

  “Awesome!” Lexa’s heart lifted. She needed to be a rockstar on every angle of this assignment. “What time?”

  “Three. But be early.”

  “Thank you!” Lexa wanted to return the favor. “I owe you for this. What can I do? Babysit your dog for a weekend? Run an irritating errand?”

  Carly laughed. “You wouldn’t last five minutes with Duke.”

  “Seriously. Come to me when you need something.”

  A pause. “I need you to do yourself a favor and get free of that relationship.”

  Lexa didn’t want to think about that right now. She was in too good a mood. “I will. But right now, I’m working on Jill Palmer’s profile. Anything gossipy you want to tell me? On or off the record.”

  “Honestly? I’m a little worried about her. She seems distracted and no one can reach her on weekends anymore.”

  “Maybe she’s spending time with her child.” Lexa knew the governor had a son, but didn’t know anything about him and had been told not to ask.

  “I think something else has changed.”

  “Do you think it’s the affair she’s having with the hospital director?”

  “I don’t know.” Carly hesitated. “People usually get happy when they’re having good sex, but Jill seems stressed.”

  “She’s taking a lot of heat about the hospital. People will be mad whatever she decides.” Lexa remembered the anonymous report of abuse. “Have you heard anything about patients being mistreated?”

  “No.” Carly’s response was quick, but also surprised.

  “Will you ask around?”

  “The only person who might have that information is the Healthcare Policy guy, and I don’t know him.” She rushed the words.

  “You sound like you need to get off the phone. I’ll let you go.”

  “Taylor and I are heading out to a movie soon.”

  “Have fun. We’ll talk later.” Lexa hung up before Carly could nag her again about leaving Kiona. How would she do that anyway? The apartment was in her name, and he wasn’t likely to take it well. Don’t think about it now. Focus on the profile.

  Lexa added the press briefing to her schedule Friday, then picked up the phone. Kiona had texted an apology. She ignored it and called Heather Dobbs, the high school friend who’d known both Jill and Shannon. Heather didn’t answer, so Lexa hung up without leaving a message and turned back to her monitor. She had to find Shannon’s current last name, the one she’d taken when she got married.

  A license! Lexa brightened at the thought. People had to apply to get married, and those records were public. Some states charged a fee for the search, but the newspaper had a paid account with a vital records website. She logged in, clicked on Oregon in a dropdown menu, then keyed in Shannon Goyer. The site froze during the load, so she closed the page and started over. The second time, the search engine pulled up a public record and displayed the details in a cluster of rectangular search fields. Seventeen years earlier, Jill’s sister had married Dennis Wilmont, so she was likely Shannon Wilmont now.

  Chapter 19

  Sunday, October 14, 1:05 p.m., Portland

  Rox put away the groceries she’d just bought and regretted going to the store hungry. Cheetos? What the hell? She would eat a few, then give the rest to Marty. No, the old guy had heart disease… but not long to live. So he tended to eat whatever the hell he wanted. She munched a handful, then stuffed the bag into the cupboard over the fridge, knowing she’d find it when she ran out of food next time. For now, she made herself a spinach salad—with lots of bacon bits. Life was all about compromise. Her personal phone beeped as she put the bowl on the table. Another text from
the pharmacy, reminding her to pick up a prescription. Rox shrugged it off. The headaches hadn’t been as bad the last two days, nor had she experienced any more weird episodes.

  She set up her laptop and scanned headlines while she ate. The world was still in chaos, and everything she read depressed her. Maybe local news would be more interesting or at least less devastating. She switched to the Oregonian’s website and her mouth dropped open. The top story claimed the governor was reconsidering the hospital closure. Well hell. That could seriously affect their extraction plans.

  The article speculated that the pressure of the protests had tipped the scales. A quote from Jill Palmer’s chief of staff indicated the decision would be strictly based on budget. Ha! The governor couldn’t handle the heat of making an unpopular decision. Welcome to politics. But what did Palmer’s new thinking mean for Logan? Would he be transferred or not? They needed to know. Rox took her salad bowl to the sink, rinsed it, and shoved it into the dishwasher. It might sit there for five days, but as long as she couldn’t see the dirty thing, she could let it go.

  Why the hell hadn’t Logan’s aunt called?

  Rox took her phone and laptop to the back deck to enjoy the fading Indian summer sun while she called Shay Wilmont. No answer. She left another message: “It’s Karina Jones again. The newspaper says the hospital might not close. Has Logan been transferred? Or will he stay now? Have you gotten in to see him? Please let me know.”

  Shay claimed to be a recluse—which meant she didn’t go anywhere—so not answering her phone didn’t make sense. Unless she was in her art studio and didn’t allow herself to be interrupted. But dammit, this was important. For a moment, Rox considered dropping the case. She couldn’t function effectively without current information. Plus she already had another investigation lined up—the missing-person scenario she’d been offered the night before. She hadn’t made up her mind about taking it, but her fee for the case might easily match the two grand Shay Wilmont had paid. Rox sighed. She didn’t do this for the money, and her heart was still with Logan. But Lacy’s connection to Mt. Angel—and disappearance—probably wasn’t coincidental. The odds against that were likely seven to one. Rox wanted to work on both.