Missing Like You

THIRTEEN

DETECTIVE GABE GIBBONS
SUNDAY JUNE 19, 2022

It's now Sunday: Day Three. I have a team canvasing Isabelle's neighborhood, doing door-to-door inquiries. I have Jason and the tech team checking CCTV footage and all security cameras from local establishments. All I need is a glimpse, her walking by for a split-second, anything to help me narrow down where she could be. So far we're coming up blank.

A little while later, Marissa pages me to the front, telling me we have someone who's come in that claims to have vital information about the investigation. I head down to Room Two and peer through the crack in the door. A man sits there, roughly early 30's, dark hair, mild facial hair. I open the door and walk in.

He looks up at me and I take a seat at the table across from him. "Detective Gibbons," I say to him, sticking out my hand.
"Hi," he meets my grip. "Justin Greenwood."
I retract my hand and get comfortable in the chair. "I'm told you have some vital information?"
"Yes," he sits up straighter and folds his hands in front of him, preparing for what he has to say. He clears his throat. "The police lieutenant on the news said they're looking for the person that Isabelle was supposed to be meeting with on Thursday night."
"Yes."
"I'm that person."
I stare at him. "You were going on a date with Isabelle Donovan?"
"Yes, that was the plan. Although, she never showed up."
"How do you know Mrs. Donovan?"
"She goes to the same coffee shop as me on her lunch break. We got acquainted after seeing each other on a regular basis. I asked if she'd like to go out for dinner sometime and she happily obliged."
"And that was the plan for Thursday – to go out for dinner?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Milestones. Seven o'clock. But when I arrived, she wasn't there. I waited and waited, she never showed. I called her cell and it rang through to voicemail. I figured she wasn't interested and was standing me up. It wasn't until I saw the news last night that I realized what had happened. And if the timeline is correct, she disappeared right before our dinner plans."
I sit there and stare at him. "Have you gone out with Mrs. Donovan before?"
"No, Thursday was supposed to be the first time. I've only met with her a handful of times, at the coffee shop. And I do just want to make it clear that I had no idea she was married."
"They're separated," I tell him. "No need to worry."
"Oh," he seems surprised by this. "Well that's a bit of a relief I guess."
"Do you have anyone who can account for your whereabouts that night? Before you went to the restaurant?"
He stares at me, blinks once. "Am I a suspect?"
"Do you have an alibi or not?"
"Yes, of course. I was at work until five. Then I went to the grocery store after that, there's probably security footage there. Then I got home around six."
"So that leaves an unaccounted hour between the time you got home and the time you got to the restaurant. A lot can happen in one hour."
His face pales. "I did not do anything to that girl. I barely knew her."
"That will be all for today," I stand. "Thanks for coming in. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon."

______

I really like Greenwood for it. He fits the bill and would have been the last person to see Isabelle before she vanished. So far, his alibi checks out, but I'm currently working on getting a warrant for his place. He served himself to us on a silver platter by walking in here the way he did. Is that actions of the innocent, or the guilty?

But if Greenwood didn't take her, then who did?

Abductions in this country aren't as common if you're above the age of eighteen. Rare, but not impossible. I guess whoever took her had their eye on her for a while. It was calculated and pre-meditated. They watched her, studied her. They knew where she lived, where she worked, when the best time to strike was. They waited until she was home from work on a Thursday evening, about to go out for the evening. Then they took her. Now she's gone, without a trace.

It's aggravating to me how a citizen in this country can simply disappear like that. If it were up to me, everyone would have tracking devices injected into their skin at birth. I think that goes against some kind of ethical code, as well as breaks every single privacy law there is, but still. It's a good idea, especially in a missing person's investigation. Because a good majority of the time, the girl ends up dead, disposed of in a park or a river. I really don't want to have to be the one to find a body and deliver the news to the parents that we didn't find their daughter in time. I wish there was more I could do.

Why do people abduct other people? It's quite simple, really. Desire, lust, need. Sick-minded people who want what they can't have. Maybe the guy has a fetish. Maybe Isabelle was the object of his attention and he knew he could never get her in a regular situation. Maybe he's a serial killer and Isabelle was simply another target for him. She fits the basic criteria. Auburn hair, green eyes, 5'6, twenty-seven, caucasian. She could be locked up in a basement somewhere. She could be handcuffed, chained up, being tortured. And worst possible scenario? She could be dead. He could have killed her the night he took her and is just waiting for a good time to dispose of the body.

When I talk in hypotheticals, it's hard for me to determine whether I'm envisioning some stranger doing these things, or if I'm envisioning the husband. Because at this point, I truly don't know.

______

Later that day I meet with Jason to go over everything he has thus far. I pull up a chair next to him and he clicks around his computer as he nurses his fourth coffee of the day.

"We've got CCTV of Isabelle coming down Fourth Street at one p.m. on the Thursday she disappeared," he tells me between sips. "Co-workers said she often went out for lunch, so I presume that's where she's headed when we see her here," he nods towards the screen.
I watch the grainy image of Isabelle Donovan walking down the street, her head tilted upwards as she surveys the buildings around her. People pass by as though it's the most mundane thing in the world, which at the time, it was. Little did they know that the woman they passed on the street would soon be missing.
"What else?"
He takes another sip from his cup then places it on the desk beside his keyboard. "Nothing substantial. We only see her twice more after this, but the cameras only pick up so much before she's out of range. Nothing at the coffee shop that day.
"We also checked security footage from Milestones and can confirm that Greenwood was there for 7 p.m. He waited for about thirty minutes – a generous amount of time – and then he left."
"You check out his alibi at work?"
"Yep, he was there right until five. Even found him at the grocery store," Jason clicks another screen and then we're watching Greenwood wander around buying groceries.
I sit back in my chair. "There's something off about him," I say. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but he's hiding something."
Jason turns to face me. "You really think he did something to her?"
"Too soon to tell at this point. He could be telling the truth, but I'm keeping a close eye on him." I sit there for a moment thinking. Then I say, "What about her laptop? Find anything on there?"
"Not much, just the usual. Work stuff, pictures, documents. All very organized, but nothing too telling. And nothing about a date or any other mystery men."
"Anything about the husband?"
"Tons, but all typical marriage stuff. Wedding photos, shared bank statements, a Word doc with baby names."
I raise an eyebrow. "Think she could be pregnant?"
He shakes his head. "It was created two years ago. Probably just eager brainstorming."
I nod and scratch my chin.
"Phone records should hopefully be in this week," he tells me. "Once I get those, I can see everyone she was in contact with."
"But no trace on the phone as of this moment?"
"Nothing. The last cell tower it pinged off of was the one closest to her work. After that, nothing. It's either shut off or disconnected now."
"Car in the driveway, phone with her," I say, talking to myself. "Where the hell did she go once she left the house? Was she on her way to the restaurant to meet Greenwood? Or did she decide to bail on him?"
"She could have been taken on the way?"
I think about this. Did Isabelle even make it home from work after 5 p.m.? "Was there any CCTV of her after 5 p.m.? Leaving Bee Hive or walking down the street?"
"No, there's nothing after 1:45 p.m."
"Fuck," I sit back in my chair again, staring at the screen. Just like Alexandra Chambers, Isabelle left her house one evening and vanished into thin air.