Creep - Jennifer Hillier [74]
“According to him, all the way. But I’m thinking he wouldn’t have suggested you if something more couldn’t be done.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Jerry’s face was neutral. “Sometimes the case is closed but you have this inkling there’s more to it. Sometimes Mike recommends me just to put the client’s mind at ease. What was his official conclusion?”
Morris cleared his throat. “That Sheila—that’s my fiancée—left town voluntarily. She’s been gone over a week now. He thinks she’ll be back when she’s ready.”
Jerry reached for a notepad and pen. “And you don’t think this is normal behavior for her?”
“Blowing off our wedding? No, I don’t. She’s a meticulous person. Every hour of her day is planned. Even if she changed her mind about getting married, I can’t imagine she’d take off the way she did. She’s a tenured professor at PSSU. It’s hard to imagine her leaving before the end of the term.” Morris described the phone message Sheila had left. “Her therapist said she didn’t check into any of the better-known treatment centers. I’m worried about her. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“Puget Sound State professor? What did you say her name was?”
“Sheila Tao. She teaches psychology.”
“Huh. I took a behavioral psych course through PSSU about seven, eight years back. But the professor’s name was Sheila Chancellor, I think.”
Morris nodded. “That’s her. She was married then.”
“Get the hell out.” Genuine shock spread over Jerry’s features. “The world just gets smaller and smaller. She was a helluva lecturer. She even gave me some one-on-one help with my final paper. She’s your fiancée?”
Morris nodded again.
Jerry was quiet, clearly perturbed. “Well, shit, this puts it all in a different light, knowing who she is and all. I was upgrading to a bachelor’s degree in criminology back then, through night school, which wasn’t exactly easy, being a cop and keeping crazy hours. She helped me write a paper that focused on criminal behavior patterns. Nice lady.” Jerry was thoughtful for another moment, then jotted something down on the notepad. “How old is she now?”
“Thirty-nine.”
The private investigator looked up. “I hate to suggest it, but maybe she’s going through some kind of midlife crisis. I went through it with my wife when she turned forty a few years back.”
“That’s what your former partner said.”
“It does happen.” Jerry saw the look on Morris’s face. “But you don’t think that’s it.”
“She was having an affair. She admitted it.”
Jerry didn’t blink. “She say who?”
Morris shook his head. “And there . . . might have been others. I’m not sure.” He couldn’t bring himself to say she was a sex addict. The words were too ugly. And this guy was a former student—Sheila wouldn’t have wanted someone like him knowing her secret.
Jerry’s expression was hard to read. “Did Mike explain to you that most of the time adults go missing because they want to? Forget what you see on TV. The majority of people who disappear do so on purpose. Considering she left you a message, it sounds like this is the case here.”
“Torrance made a point to tell me all that, yes. Twice, actually.” Morris didn’t bother to mention that he also thought Torrance was a jackass. “But I need answers, Jerry. Isn’t that why people hire you? Because, unlike the police, you can find people who don’t want to be found?”
Jerry smiled.
“I can’t force her to come home, but I need to see for myself that she’s all right. I’ve invested too much of . . . my time to let it go like this.” Morris had almost said of myself.
Jerry didn’t look happy. For a moment Morris thought he might have offended the former cop. Or maybe he had second thoughts about investigating someone he knew.
But then the PI reached into his drawer and pulled out a stack of yellow forms. He peeled one off the top. “All right then. These are my fees. I need two thousand as a nonrefundable retainer up front, and then I bill a hundred per hour plus