Cop Hunch

Part 4

Tom hit the shower as soon as he arrived home. As he was dressing, there was a knock at his door. Looking out the peep hole, he saw Erin.

With a warm smile on his face, he answered the door, "Hi there." He invited her in.

"Hi. I was in the neighborhood and saw your car here. Thought I'd take the chance that you were home for the day," Erin smile matched Tom's. "I really missed you."

Grinning, Tom looked into her eyes, "You realize that we spent the entire morning in bed together."

"But it wasn't nearly long enough." She grabbed him around the waist and gave him a lingering kiss. "You feel so good," she whispered in his ear, following with another kiss.

"You hungry?" Tom breathed when their lips parted.

"Oh yeah…" she had a sinful grin on her face.

"I meant for food." Tom admonished playfully.

"Oh, that…yeah, I could eat."

Tom led her to the kitchenette. She sat at the bar, watching his every move. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. She couldn't help but admire his strong build reflected under the clothing. "You sure got off work early today. I figured that Cassy would keep you late since you didn't come in until noon."

"Cassy had a date," Tom replied. He grabbed fresh vegetables from the refrigerator and began chopping them into bite-sized pieces.

"So I guess you had a pretty easy afternoon."

"We had to work on a missing person's case. I can't really talk about it right now."

"No problem…I understand." Erin hopped off her stool and circled the bar. She reached past him to grab a piece of freshly chopped celery.

"So, how was your day off?" Tom placed the vegetables in a pan.

"I did a little shopping at the mall this afternoon. I can't say it was all that relaxing, though…I kept running into kids from the school." Erin had been a high school English teacher for the past ten years. "Not to mention that my mind wasn't really into it…I kept thinking about last night." Erin's brown eyes met Tom's hazel.

Tom grinned, "Yeah…I know what you mean."

Erin turned Tom towards her and placed her hands on his shoulders, gently massaging them. "Do you think we can top it tonight?"

"I'd love to try…" Tom pulled her into a passionate kiss.

When they parted, Erin was breathless. "You know…I'm not very hungry…for food…all of the sudden," she grinned. She reached past Tom and turned the stove off, pulling him into another kiss.

Tom didn't…couldn't refuse her. He surrendered to his passion and led her into the bedroom.

Erin's head was lying on Tom's chest. She was sleeping peacefully. Tom, while being physically exhausted, was mentally alert. He looked at his watch. It was only 8:30. No wonder he wasn't tired. He grinned to himself; he spent more time in bed today than out of it. Being with Erin had been perfect. He hadn't felt this way about a woman since Cassy. In fact, when he first saw Erin at the high school he felt the same tingling sensation as he had when Cassy walked into the squad room for the first time. Watch it, Ryan. You were burned the last time you felt like this. You're a sucker for this feeling. Tom smiled, thoughtfully, better to be a little more cautious this time.

Erin rolled off his chest and on to the pillow next to him. Her long brown hair remained draped over his body. He reached over with his right hand and ran his fingers through the stands. His mind wondered to other details of the day, specifically, the new case.

It was odd that there was no sign of Derrick Johnson. While not having been in the public eye for a few months, Johnson was still well-known in the community. Someone should know where he is. Tom couldn't get over the feeling that he was missing something. He replayed the conversation with Mrs. Johnson and Pamela Harper in his mind. Nothing.

It was reasonable to assume that Johnson had met with foul play. As Harry had said, he wasn't the type of person to just take off on a whim. He hadn't taken any cash or personal items with him. No one appeared to know of any secret affairs. The fact that there were no signs of a struggle at the house or in the garage would indicate that Johnson left the house voluntarily, sometime between 8:00 Sunday night and 8:00 Monday morning. Other than that there were no clues. If he didn't take his car, then he left with someone."

Tom slowly extricated himself from the bed, trying not to disturb Erin. It didn't work. She woke as he was slipping on his shorts. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

She stifled a yawn. "Hey, it's a little early for me to be sleeping. I'd much rather play," she grinned at her lover.

Tom sat at the edge of the bed. There was a slight frown on his face. "What's wrong?" Her hand touched the side of his face, brushing the loose strands of his hair out of his eyes.

Tom was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry…it's this case that Cass and I were working on this afternoon. I just have this feeling that we're missing something, but I can't figure out what that 'something' is." He was silent again.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"I really shouldn't…but…" Tom looked into her eyes and knew that he could trust her with his confidence. "Derrick Johnson disappeared last night."

"The city councilman?"

"Yeah. His wife said he left for a meeting last night, and no one has seen him since."

Erin raised up to her knees and placed herself behind Tom. She began to message his shoulders. "Do you think he was kidnapped?"

"Don't know...His car was still in the garage. We're not even sure whether he made it to his meeting. It's as if he walked out the front door of the house and just disappeared."

"How do you know that?' Erin stopped messaging.

Tom turned to her with a curious look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you know that he left the house for a meeting? Aren't you relying completely on his wife's word for that?"

Tom was silent for a time, pondering what Erin was implying. "You know…I thought the same thing when this case started. Mrs. Johnson said that her husband left for the meeting at 8:00, but she didn't actually hear his car leave the garage, nor did she hear him return. She didn't hear him getting ready for work in the morning. She assumed he came home, but said that she never heard him.

"I can't believe that she wouldn't have noticed that he wasn't in bed or that she didn't hear him getting ready for work." She paused, then grinned, "Of course, I've never been married."

"Cassy didn't think it was all that strange. She said that when we were married, we would go for days without seeing each other because of our different work schedules."

"But that's different. You were both working. From what you've said, the wife was at home the whole time her husband was supposed to be popping in and out. All I'm saying is that I think she would be a little concerned when she reached over to his side of the bed and found he wasn't there."

"Yeah…" Tom's voice drifted off. "You know what…you're right." He reached for the phone on the nightstand and dialed Cassy's number. Her answering machine picked up. "Cass, it's Tom…you there?" No response. "Cass, it's about 9:00 Monday night. Give me a call when you get home. I have a hunch about Johnson's disappearance I want to check out." Tom hung up.

He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He suddenly stopped and turned to Erin, a look of regret in his eyes. Before he could explain, Erin spoke, "Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about me. I'll keep the bed warm for you."

Without speaking, Tom came back to the bed and kissed her. Not as passionately as before, but lovingly all the same. "Thanks." He quickly returned to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Twenty minutes later, Tom was heading for the door. Erin, who had slipped into Tom's t-shirt, was sitting at the bar drinking a glass of wine. Tom slipped his arms around her, pulling her from the stool. "If Cassy calls, tell her I went back to question Mrs. Johnson again. She can call me on the cell phone if she wants to catch up."

"Will do," Erin pulled his face towards her and gave him a kiss. "You be careful out there."

"No problem. I just want to get some of these questions cleared up. I don't like them interfering with my evenings," Tom grinned as he went out the door.

Forty-five minutes later, he was parking the car on the street in front of Johnson's house. Before going to the door, Tom took his flashlight from the glove compartment and made his way to the garage. All of the doors were closed. He circled the structure and found nothing out of the ordinary. While he was pondering whether to go ahead and talk to Mrs. Johnson, a large truck approached from the back of the property. Tom quickly turned off the flashlight and dropped to the ground, pressing his body against the side of the garage, hoping the headlights hadn't revealed his presence to the visitor. The truck pulled around the garage, within twenty feet of Tom. It drove over the curb, on to the road in front of the house and pulled into the Johnson's driveway. Tom turned his head from the lights until they were shut off so that he wouldn't be temporarily blinded.

A figure got out of the cab of the truck. It was a woman. Tom immediately identified the slim figure of Pamela Harper. The woman approached the front door of the home and walked in, without knocking. Tom quietly approached the living room window and from his vantage point could see into the foyer where Pamela had Carol in an embrace. But it wasn't the type of embrace he would have expected…not one of comfort…but one of passion. The women kissed, with Carol's hands roaming through Pamela's hair.

Tom grimaced, but kept watching with suspicious fascination. Suddenly, Pamela pushed the petite woman away. Tom could tell she was angry, but it was impossible to know what had been the cause. Suddenly, Pamela stormed into the living room and approached the windows Tom was spying through. Tom ducked down, out of sight. The drapes were closed and Tom could see no more.

Tom leaned against the house for a moment. The case had taken a sudden and unexpected turn. Tom left the window and returned to the truck, where he stooped to look at the wheels. The underside of the truck was caked in mud. Tom recalled how muddy the work-site had been and how much mud had been on his car. He then remembered Davis' comment about the mud in the garage…from a large vehicle…like a truck, maybe. Tom grinned as his hunch was starting to come together. He looked at the path that the truck had taken from the back of the Johnson's house and realized now where it led. He ran back to the Mustang and decided to confirm his suspicions. Patting the dashboard of his classic car, he whispered Alright, baby…I know you weren't designed for this, but I know you can handle it. He eased the car up the curb and onto the path. It was rough, but if he went slowly he was pretty sure the Mustang could handle the cross-country trek. After driving for about two miles on the path, Tom saw what he had been looking for…the fence to the construction site. A section of the fence had been pushed back, obviously by Pamela Harper when she took her truck out.

Tom's mind was already putting the pieces together. He drove his car to the entrance at the front of the construction site. The lot was lit with a safety light designed to discourage thieves and protect trespassers from the dangers of the landscape. He pulled out his phone and dialed Cassy's cell phone. No answer. She had obviously decided to turn it off or leave it at home. He dialed her home phone, but the answering machine picked up again. "Cass…I think I know where Johnson is. I'm at the construction site. If you get this message, call me on my cell phone." Tom sat in the car for a moment; Pamela Harper was involved in Johnson's disappearance. He knew it. It was mud from her truck that was in the garage. Davis had said that the mud tracks were from a larger vehicle. It had rained early Sunday morning. Carol Johnson had said herself that there had been no visitors on Sunday and that neither of them had left the house until Johnson departed for his meeting. Someone, though, had been to the house on Sunday…had even parked in the garage and Mrs. Johnson had lied about it. I'd bet a month's pay that the someone was Pamela Harper. It's obvious that Pamela and Carol are more than just friends. I'd also bet that they are both involved in his disappearance.

Tom reached into his glove compartment and pulled out the flashlight. He then left the security of his vehicle. He slid his keys in his back pocket and cell phone into the pocket of his jacket as he surveyed the area, his eyes stopping on the large hole that would soon be a swimming pool. He remembered something that had struck him as odd earlier. After talking with Tom, Pamela Harper had made her way directly to the bulldozer and pushed dirt into the hole. "Why?" Tom said to himself, realizing, once again, there was no logical reason for dirt to be pushed back into the deep end of the hole so recently dug.

Using the flashlight to avoid the mud, Tom made a beeline for the pit which was partially lit with the security light. It looked no different than it had when he had left the site earlier. The bulldozer was parked next to the swimming pool. He looked down into the hole below the bulldozer to see the dirt which had been dumped into the hole that afternoon. The mound was about four feet taller than the rest of the dirt in the hole. He approached the exterior frame of the house, looking for a shovel. There were no tools lying around. Only an aluminum ladder was propped against the frame. He moved to the trailer, the entrance of which was also lit by the security light. His flashlight providing extra light, he spotted a tool bin, secured with a padlock, which was attached to the exterior. He smiled to himself, that I can deal with. Running back to his car, slipping slightly in the mud, he retrieved his lock picks from the glove compartment. Returning to the tool bin, he worked the lock. With little effort, it quickly unsnapped. He found a shovel and dropped it into the hole next to the mound of dirt. He retrieved the ladder from the house and maneuvered it into the hole. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to prove his theory without getting dirty, he removed his jacket, tossing it onto the ground. He carefully found his footing on the ladder and climbed down into the hole. Sighing, he positioned the flashlight so that he could see his progress, picked up the shovel and began digging.

Within forty-five minutes, Tom had dug a deep hole in the loose dirt. He was now working into ground that was deeper than the rest of the swimming pool. A sudden ringing sound startled him. It was his cell phone, which was in his jacket, which was on the ground above the pool. He dropped the shovel and climbed back up the ladder. Unfortunately, it took him too long to answer. No one was there. He returned to the bottom of the hole, knowing that if Johnson was buried there, he would soon find out. He kept digging. Within minutes, the shovel impacted with something that didn't feel like the rest of the dirt. Tom used his hands to scrape away at the dirt, and his fingers came into contact with cloth, which was attached to an arm, attached to a body. Tom kept digging with his hands, dirt imbedding itself under his nails. His hands uncovered a face. Retrieving the flashlight from where it rested, he played the beam upon the body. Not surprisingly, Tom realized that he had found Derrick Johnson.

He tossed the shovel to the side and climbed out of the hole, looking down at his discovery. He reached down to grab the phone from his jacket pocket and began to dial police dispatch for backup.

"Drop it!" A woman's voice surprised him from behind…Pamela Harper. His right hand dropped the phone, while his left quickly reached for his gun. Before he could remove it from the holster, he heard the hammer of a gun being cocked.