The Vanishing. Jana DeLeon
at her apartment building but gotten only the same story: Anna was a quiet, polite woman whom they rarely saw. The search of her apartment had yielded nothing but more questions. Max hadn’t located a single thread of information that might give a clue as to why the young woman had left. She kept no diary, no notes and, oddly enough, nothing related to her past.
It was as if she’d materialized out of thin air two years ago on the streets of New Orleans. And that, in itself, was very suspicious.
He could tell by Colette’s expression that she was also bothered by the lack of personal items in Anna’s apartment, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. And apparently, it hadn’t changed her mind about accompanying him to the bank to see if they’d part with information on Anna’s bank transactions.
“Don’t you need a warrant or something to get information from the bank?” Colette asked.
“Usually.”
Colette raised one eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation, but he didn’t feel like giving one. He may have to let her along for the ride, but that didn’t mean he had to consult with her on his actions or explain the way he worked. She was paying for an expert to handle the situation, and that’s what she’d get. Teaching wasn’t part of the job description.
She was smart enough not to press the issue, but she still followed right behind him as he parked in front of the bank and went inside. A young woman in a glass office at the front of the lobby jumped up from her chair and beamed as he walked in the door.
“Max,” she said and rushed to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Brandy,” he said, both embarrassed and flattered by the attention.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Max glanced around the lobby and was happy to see all the other employees and customers were out of hearing range. “I need your help,” he said and explained the situation to her.
Brandy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O. When he finished, she nodded and gestured toward the office she’d come out of earlier. Colette and Max stepped inside and took seats across the desk from Brandy, who sat down and immediately started typing.
“There’s been no other activity on the account since the withdrawal last Friday, but there’s only thirty dollars left in the account.”
“What about the month before that?” Max asked. “Is there anything unusual that you can see?”
Brandy scanned the screen, shaking her head. “It all looks like normal stuff—a check for rent, automatic draft for utilities and Netflix, and a couple of small cash withdrawals—never more than twenty dollars at a time.”
“Can you tell where she made the withdrawal on Friday?”
Brandy nodded. “Let me look up the branch number associated with the transaction.” She typed in some numbers and then said, “It’s located on Highway 90 close to Old Spanish Trail, northeast of New Orleans.”
Colette sucked in a breath. “That’s on the way to the village where Anna’s from. But she said she had no family left there.”
“Maybe she lied.”
Colette frowned, and Max knew she wasn’t happy with the thought that the girl she’d invested so much in had been lying to her all along. “Maybe so,” she said finally.
“Can I get a printout of the transactions and the address of that branch?” Max asked.
“Of course,” Brandy said.
Max felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket and pulled it out to check the display. “It’s Holt,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment.”
He left the office and stepped outside onto the sidewalk in front of the bank. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Alex got a call this morning from the morgue at West Side Hospital outside of New Orleans. They have a body that matches Anna’s description.”
Max’s heart sank.
He’d known there was a possibility that Anna had met with foul play, but he’d really been hoping for a happy ending for Anna and Colette.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the worst-case scenario was visiting the investigation before he really got started.
COLETTE WATCHED AS BRANDY stapled the printouts together. The girl was certainly attractive and apparently knew Max well enough to risk being fired for what she was doing, but Colette couldn’t help but think she was a little too young for him. She couldn’t be over twenty at the most.
Whatever the status of Max’s relationship with Brandy, it was none of her business, but that didn’t prevent her from wanting to know. “You’re not really supposed to give out that information, are you?” Colette asked, figuring she couldn’t be faulted for the mostly innocent question, even if Max found out she’d asked.
“No, but you want it for a good reason. Besides, I owe Max.”
Colette wasn’t sure she really wanted to know the answer, but she couldn’t help asking. “Owe him for what?”
“I wasn’t the most respectable teen,” Brandy said, looking a bit sheepish. “Max busted me with the wrong crowd three years ago in Baton Rouge but agreed to let me go if I would go back to school and ditch my troublemaking friends. He lied to his captain and told him I got away while they were rounding up the others. If anyone had found out, he probably would have been fired.”
“Wow. That was really nice of him.” And totally not the answer Colette had expected. So far, she’d seen only the hard-nosed-cop side of him.
Brandy smiled. “You know how he is.”
“No … actually, I just met him this morning.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just that you two looked nice together. I guess I figured you were together.”
“No, we—”
Before she could explain, Max stepped back into the off ice.
“We have to leave,” he said.
Brandy handed him the printouts. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“I hope you find her soon.”
Max nodded and left the office, but not before Colette saw something dark pass over his expression.
“It was nice meeting you,” Colette said to Brandy and hurried out of the office behind Max.
“What’s wrong?” Colette asked as soon as he pulled the car away from the bank.
His jaw flexed and a wave of fear washed over her. Whatever he was about to say, Colette knew it wasn’t going to be something she wanted to hear.
“Alex got a call from the morgue at West Side Hospital.”
Colette felt the blood rush from her face. “Oh, no!”
“I need to take you over there. You’re the only one …”
“Yes, of course.” She stared out the windshield as he made the twenty-minute drive to the hospital, unable to believe it may all be over. That Anna could be inside the morgue on a cold slab of metal.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d known that if things went horribly wrong, she’d have to be the one to identify her friend, but she was completely unprepared for it to happen in a matter of minutes.
She felt as if she was almost out of her body as she walked into the morgue, Max close behind. Feeling numb, she waited while Max spoke with the clerk, who gave her a sad glance, then buzzed them through a secure door. A medical technician met them on the other side. He spoke to them, but Colette didn’t hear his words or Max’s reply.
Anna’s