Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [73]
Martin began on the first page of the book and started thumbing through the dozens of names that each page contained. Justine Ashley knew a great many people and appeared to save addresses and phone numbers for years. Because he did not know Laura’s last name, he would have to flip through the entire address book, hopeful that the couple had only one Laura in their life. If more than one Laura were listed in the book, there would be no way of determining which one had called the house that afternoon.
On the page containing surnames starting with G, Martin found a listing for a Laura Green, including an address and telephone number. The number was the third of more than twenty names listed on the page, indicating that the Ashleys had known this woman for some time. Less than ten minutes later, Martin completed his search of the WXYZ page, finding no other Laura in the book. He returned to the page containing Laura Green’s name and photographed it, recording the address and phone number on his digital camera but committing the information to memory as well. He then returned the address book to the drawer and made his way back to the kitchen.
Lifting the telephone off its cradle (the first time Martin had ever touched a clients’ phone), he activated the caller ID feature by pressing a button imprinted with an arrow pointing down, bringing up the incoming calls on the phone’s digital readout and allowing the user to scroll through them. He noted the first number to appear on the listing and confirmed by the time stamp that it had been Laura Green’s call. In place of a name, the words “Wireless Caller” appeared, indicating that she had called from her cell phone. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disappointed. Had Laura Green called from home, Martin’s course of action would have been difficult, but at least it would have been clear. Adding her unknown locale to the equation added a great deal of uncertainty.
Nevertheless, Martin felt as though he had found the right person, and the first task in his plan was complete.
Before exiting the house, Martin completed a meticulous survey of each room that he had entered. In all, he had spent more than two hours in the Ashley home, a record for him (and one he had never intended on setting), and though he had spent the majority of that time at the kitchen table (purposely, so as to avoid leaving any accidental trace of his presence), he still wanted to be sure that he had left everything in its place. The disturbance to his routine worried him, and demanded an extra degree of vigilance.
Satisfied that everything was in order, Martin exited through the back door and cut across the Ashleys’ backyard and into a line of trees along the northern border of the property. Less than five minutes later he emerged onto the baseball field of Southington High School, empty on this warm and bright day, and five minutes after that Martin was on the road and heading for Manchester, a town about thirty minutes north of Southington, and the one that Laura Green called home.
Laura Green’s home was a nightmare. Located on West Middle Turnpike, a busy two-lane road running through the center of Manchester, number 280 was a white and tan Colonial adjacent to similar houses on three sides and all set less than fifty feet apart. A narrow driveway winded beside the house and into a single-car garage at the rear of the property, a building so small that Martin wondered if a large lawnmower would fit inside. Though a tall wooden fence ran along the rear of the property, no fencing or shrubbery protected the front or side doors from the view of the neighbors. Accessing this house would be difficult, if not impossible.
Insane, Martin thought as he examined it further.
Adding to the insanity was a driveway marked by chalk drawings of flowers, cats, tic-tac-toe boards, and several large, shining yellow balls (presumably the suns of some multistarred solar system). Laura Green appeared to have children, and though