“I’m a wireless telecommunication engineer,” Tim said. “My employer, Speed Net, is working with the university on research to develop the next generation Wi-Fi.”
Maybe Tim had a reason to be a little arrogant about his tech skills.
“Must be interesting to work on the cutting edge,” Sharp said.
Tim shrugged. “It is. It’s also demanding.”
“We’ll need your employer’s contact information,” Lance said. “And we’ll want to interview your boss and coworkers.”
“All the information is in here.” Tim slid a file from his diaper bag and set it on the desk.
“I doubt the sheriff will give you her electronics back just yet,” Sharp said. “That’s too bad. I know you’re a computer expert, but we’d still like to look at your wife’s digital history. I’m sure you’re great with computers, but we know what to look for.”
“I’m willing to try anything,” Tim said. “Chelsea’s laptop and phone both backup to a cloud account every twenty-four hours. I can access everything that was on her computer from mine.”
“Perfect. Do you know what kind of initial physical search the sheriff conducted of the area where you found your wife’s car?” Lance asked.
Tim sniffed and reeled in his emotions. “The police searched the neighborhood. They drove along all the roads for a few miles in each direction. They put out some sort of alert to other police departments. They brought in a dog.”
Sharp rubbed his buzz cut with a palm. “The dog didn’t pick up anything?”
Tim shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Do you know what the sheriff is doing now?” Sharp asked.
Tim shook his head. “He doesn’t tell me much.”
“We’ll contact the sheriff and get an update,” Morgan assured him. “Do you know if the sheriff’s department interviewed any of your neighbors?”
“He did,” Tim said. “A few people dropped by to let me know.”
There were up to ninety thousand active missing persons cases in the United States at any given time, but missing adults often took a back seat to missing kids, homicides, robberies, and assaults. Without clear evidence of foul play, it was unlikely Chelsea’s case would take priority.
“Did you check your credit card statements for a train ticket?” she asked. Chelsea’s car had been parked so close to the train station.
“Yes. The last charge on her credit card was at the grocery store last Thursday,” Tim continued. “The police looked at the surveillance tapes from the train station. They said no one who looked like Chelsea got on the train that night. She never carried much cash. If Chelsea wanted to take the train, she would have bought the ticket online. That’s what we usually do.”
Unless she didn’t want anyone to know where she was going.
But Morgan didn’t say it. There wasn’t enough evidence to make assumptions. The sheriff’s office had made the usual ones, and that by-the-book approach hadn’t found Chelsea. It was time for some fresh blood—and brains—on the case. She didn’t want Tim to have to live in limbo for the next twenty years.
Morgan glanced at Lance. His face was a tight mask, but emotion clouded the blue of his eyes. Since his father had gone missing many years ago and had never been found, this case would bring up unpleasant memories for him.
Tim tapped the file on the desk. “I brought copies of everything the police asked for: phone records, a list of her family and friends, our employers, bank and credit card statements, social media account information. I copied everything I gave to the police.”
The baby began to fuss, starting with bleating cries that quickly escalated to wails.
“I’m sorry.” Tim removed a bottle from the diaper bag, unstrapped the infant, and picked him up. He offered the baby the bottle. “But I’m at least grateful that he’s decided bottles are OK. The first two days Chelsea was gone were a nightmare. I thought he was going to starve.”
The baby drank in greedy gulps. Tim sat back, and Morgan’s heart squeezed.
Sharp took the folder and opened it. He thumbed through the papers. “Does Chelsea have an alcohol or drug problem?”
“No,” Tim said. “She hasn’t even had a glass of wine since she got pregnant with William. Friday night would have been her first. She’s fitter than I am. She runs almost every day. She loves to hike. As a couple, we’re about as boring as it gets.”
Sharp made a note on a legal pad on his desk. “How long have you and Chelsea been together?”
“Five years,” Tim said. “We met senior year of college in Colorado.”
“Why did you move to New York?” Sharp asked.
“I was offered a job with Speed Net. The move was a little risky, but the company has enormous growth potential. The payoff could be huge. We only had Bella at the time.” Tim’s gaze dropped to the baby. “In hindsight, leaving Chelsea’s family has been really hard.”
Morgan stared at the baby for a few seconds, empathy tugging at her. “Tell me about Chelsea’s family. Is there any friction there?”
“Not that I know of. Chelsea is an only child. Her father is a chiropractor. Her mother is a teacher.”
“Is your family in Colorado as well?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, but I was glad to leave them behind.” Tim raised his chin, his jaw tightening. “My parents are alcoholics and drug addicts. My father served time for burglary. Mom sold heroin out of our kitchen, and my brother was in prison for armed robbery when I left the state. I don’t want my family anywhere near my wife and kids. That has been the one additional benefit of moving east. Back home, they’d occasionally call or show up at our apartment looking for money. I haven’t had any contact with them since we moved here—though I’m a junior so my father’s records are constantly crisscrossing with mine.”
Morgan made a note to find out if Tim’s parents were still in Colorado. Who knew what kind of schemes three criminals in need of cash could hash out? Especially if they resented the one member of the family who’d successfully navigated the straight and narrow.
“Did you bring a photo of your wife?” Sharp asked.
“Yes.” Shifting the baby around, Tim reached down and produced a photo from the diaper bag. “This is Chelsea.” His hand trembled, just slightly, as he handed it across the desk to Sharp, who studied the picture with a frown.
Tim pushed his hair off his face. Then he squeezed the back of his skull for a few seconds, as if the pressure of his fingers would help hold it together.
Sharp passed the photo to Morgan. Wholesome and fresh-faced, Chelsea was a pretty young woman with long blonde hair, even white teeth, and big blue eyes. In the photo, she stood on a mountaintop. The background was pure blue sky and more mountains rolling into the distance.
“That was taken last year. We were hiking in the Catskills.”
Morgan handed the picture to Lance. He took the photo by its edges and studied it.