Adverse Events, page 17
Mattingly looked at her like he expected her to run down the list of other possibilities. Kate crossed her arms and mashed her lips together.
“What if she was looking for drugs in that bar? What if one of the crew members killed her? What if she got the drugs, took some the night she disappeared, and overdosed in the water? And let’s not forget that this all started because the man charged with killing her claims she’s not really dead. You’re not dealing with any solid evidence here.”
Kate’s face burned. Her watertight theory was full of holes and sinking fast. Mattingly leaned forward on his elbows and sighed.
“Look, kiddo, I know how badly you want this story. And I haven’t forgotten what that feels like, believe it or not. But I cannot afford to send you to Cuba. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s not safe. In case you’ve forgotten, Americans aren’t exactly welcome in Havana.”
Tears of frustration pricked the back of Kate’s eyes. She stood abruptly, heart pounding.
“So that’s it? End of story?”
Mattingly glared up at her. “As far as I’m concerned, yes. End of story.”
Without saying another word, Kate spun around and strode out of her boss’s office.
Johnson drained the last of the coffee from his cup and set it down with a thump on his desk. He’d tossed and turned half the night thinking about Emily Gibson. If she was clever enough to attempt to frame Newhouse for murder, how likely was it that she had left any obvious clues about where she was headed? Financial records would be a good place to start. She would need money no matter where she planned to go. Assuming, of course, that she had gone somewhere and wasn’t lying in a shallow grave on the West End.
Johnson sighed. It wasn’t the first unlikely lead he’d ever chased down. But it was definitely the most unusual.
Before he started filling out the paperwork for a bank account subpoena, Johnson popped his cell phone out of the clip on his belt. He pulled up his favorites list and tapped the name at the top. The phone rang so long he was about to hang up when Kate finally picked up. He heard her take a deep breath as she raised the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” she said on the exhale. He hadn’t heard her sound that dejected in months.
“Hey back. What’s up? You sound like you need more coffee.”
Kate huffed. “I’m not sure that will help.”
“Rough morning?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Not something a latte could fix?”
“Doubtful.”
Johnson frowned. “Well, let’s give it a try. My treat. Can you meet me on the seawall in 20 minutes?”
She hesitated so long he was sure she would say no.
“I guess,” she finally said. “Make it a double.”
“You got it. I’ll meet you around 19th Street.”
He spotted Kate’s car as soon as he turned on Seawall Boulevard. The wide sidewalk atop the wall that ran for 17 miles along the island’s gulf side was nearly empty. The early morning walkers had gone home. And the tourists hadn’t flocked to the beach yet. Kate sat on one of the concrete benches facing the water, her face turned toward the sun as though trying to draw encouragement from its warmth.
He sat down and handed her a coffee cup without saying anything. For several minutes, he watched the waves roll in and listened to the seagulls wheeling overhead. A few times, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The steady breeze blew her hair back from her face, adding to the wildness of the fierce scowl that left deep furrows across her forehead. Although she looked out over the water, all of her concentration focused inward.
“Is it helping?”
She looked sideways at him. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as her frown relaxed just slightly.
“Is what helping?”
“The coffee. I ordered an extra shot of enthusiasm, just for you.”
She smirked. “Is that an off-menu item?”
“Law enforcement special. You know, we need all the enthusiasm we can get.”
That finally produced a laugh, and the last of her brooding mask crumbled. He smiled down at her as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head and looked at him with her clear grey eyes.
“Thanks.” She sounded so sincere he had to squash the urge to put his arm around her and give her a comforting squeeze. He took a swig of his coffee instead.
“Aren’t you even curious about why I called you?”
“Now that you mention it, I am. You never call me unless you need something.”
“Hey! That’s not the least bit true. I even bought you coffee!”
“Okay, okay. Now I’m dying to know. Why did you call?”
He grinned at her. If this didn’t cheer her up, nothing would.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other night about Emily Gibson. And you’re right. I don’t want her to get away with murder any more than I want Newhouse to.”
Kate’s eyes lit up, and she leaned toward him. “You think she’s still alive?”
“Now that enthusiasm’s kicking in,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. But if it’s possible, it’s worth investigating. Now I just have to figure out where to start.”
A huge grin split her face from ear to ear. “Maybe I can help with that.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Have you ever been to the Broadside?”
He frowned. “Not voluntarily. Why?”
“Emily Gibson started hanging out there about six weeks before she disappeared. Coincidentally, most of the people who frequent the bar are cargo ship crew members.”
His pulse started to skip. “And how do you know this?”
“I did a little reconnaissance last night,” she said, shrugging. But her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes ruined any attempt to feign nonchalance.
“What in the world made you go there?”
“Yesterday morning, I met David Knowles at Emily’s apartment. I noticed a box of Spanish language learning software in one of her desk drawers. David said he had no idea she was trying to learn and couldn’t think of any reason why she would need to. So that got me thinking maybe she knew she was going to need it wherever she was going. But if she was headed somewhere they speak Spanish, how would she get there?”
His mind raced with the possibilities. “You think she was trying to get a berth on a cargo ship?”
“Well, she couldn’t fly without identification. And she’d be easy to track that way. But if she found a cargo ship captain willing to take her, no questions asked, she could probably skip town pretty easily.”
“What made you think of the Broadside?”
She smiled a little sheepishly. “Delilah Peters. She checked with some of her sources at the port and confirmed three ships sailed out the morning Emily disappeared. All of them had Spanish-speaking destinations. Delilah said if she wanted to make discreet inquiries about getting an off-the-books cabin on one of those ships, she would start by cozying up to the crew members. And she said the Broadside was the best place to do that.”
Johnson shook his head in amazement. In the time he’d spent debating what to do, Kate had found enough evidence to give her theory legs.
“So, what did you find?”
“The bartender said a woman who sounded a lot like Emily Gibson had started coming into the bar. She began hanging out with a crew from a ship going back and forth to Cuba.”
“Cuba!”
“They’re pretty proud of their medical training program, so I’m told.” She took a swig of her coffee, her eyes locked on his over the top of her cup.
“So you think she went to Cuba to continue her training?”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t really know. Maybe? It would also be a great place to continue her vaccine research, if she wanted to. Maybe she offered her knowledge and research to get her foot in the door. It would be a major coup for Cuba to get a working vaccine before the United States.”
Johnson gave a low whistle. “Medical espionage?”
“It’s the best bargaining chip she has. And Cuba is the perfect place to hide out. If U.S. officials ever decided to file charges over the vaccine fraud, she’d be totally safe from extradition.”
For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. Kate was dragging him into the plot of an international spy thriller. He wanted to dismiss her theory like he had the other night. But he had that solid feeling in his chest he always got when he was on the right track.
“So, what’s your next move?”
Storm clouds rolled over Kate’s face again. Her eyes narrowed into determined slits.
“Mattingly refused to send me to Cuba. He said there were too many ifs, and he didn’t have the budget for it. He also claims Cuba’s dangerous, but I don’t know how much he really believes that. He’s probably just trying to scare me.”
Johnson chuckled. “Clearly he doesn’t know you that well.”
Kate glanced sideways at him out of the corner of her eyes and flashed a grin.
“I’ve been trying to decide what to do. I just can’t let this go. If I’m right, it’s a huge story.”
A tingle of apprehension pricked the back of Johnson’s neck. “What are you thinking?”
“I told him I would pay for the trip myself, but that didn’t make a difference. He won’t give me his blessing. So I guess I’ll have to go without it.”
The tingle roared into a fire of fear in his belly. “Kate, Mattingly’s not wrong about Cuba being dangerous. My parents have friends there. The government keeps a tight rein on everything. You wouldn’t be able to go busting in and ask a bunch of questions.”
She humphed indignantly. “I know that. I’ll go as a tourist. That’s possible, right? I’ll have to fly to Mexico or something. Then I can just wander around Havana for a week and see what I can find out.”
“But if they suspect you’re up to something, they’d have no problem arresting you. Or just making you disappear. Kate, it happens. The Cuban government isn’t accountable to anyone.”
A savage frown creased her face. “Then that’s all the more reason to go. I’ll never find out what happened otherwise.”
Johnson took a deep breath and tried to ignore the alarm bells blaring in his head. Kate was a grown woman and could make her own decisions. Before he could say anything else, her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her purse and cursed softly.
“I’m supposed to be at City Hall right now. I forgot all about this profile I’m supposed to be working on.” She stood and pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Thanks for the coffee. And for listening.”
Reluctantly, he stood, too. “Keep me posted, ok? Maybe Mattingly will change his mind.”
She snorted. “I doubt it. I think I’m on my own on this one.”
“Kate,” he called out as she turned to go. “Don’t say that. You’re never alone.”
For the rest of the afternoon, he wrestled with what to do. After he left the station for the day, he took the dogs for a long run on the beach. The setting sun cast an amber glow across the waves and sand. His feet pounded rhythmically, beating down his anxiety, solidifying his resolve. He hadn’t felt such a strong conviction about a case in years. He knew exactly what he had to do.
When he got home, he took a long, hot shower, and changed into jeans and a casual long-sleeved shirt. It was just long and baggy enough to cover the gun he clipped to his belt.
Stars dotted the night sky when he pulled up outside the Broadside. But it was still early for the regular crowd. The bar was mostly empty when he pushed open the door. The bartender nodded to him, a hint of suspicion tightening his shoulders. It was almost imperceptible, but Johnson knew he’d been made. No surprise there. He couldn’t deny he looked every inch a cop.
The bartender ambled over. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ll take a Corona,” he said, perching on one of the well-worn stools.
The bartender disappeared through a side curtain and returned a moment later with the bottle. He popped it open and put it in front of Johnson.
“That all?” he asked as Johnson took a swig of the golden liquid.
Johnson smiled ruefully. Clearly, the guy wasn’t a fan of cat and mouse.
“I’m looking for someone,” Johnson said. He unclipped his cellphone and laid it face down on the bar.
“Not many people here right now,” the bartender said evasively, casting a glance around the room as if to prove his point.
“Someone who might have been here recently.”
“What makes you think that?”
“A friend of mine told me I should look here.”
The bartender leaned back against the opposite counter and crossed his arms.
“I’ve got a photo on my phone,” Johnson continued. “I just want to know if you recognize her.”
He turned the phone over and swiped the screen open. Emily Gibson’s smiling face glowed in the dimly lit room. The bartender glanced at it and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. A surge of excitement made Johnson catch his breath.
“You do recognize her,” he said.
The bartender shrugged. “Pretty girl.”
Johnson nodded. “Pretty hard to miss. When was the last time you saw her?”
Another shrug. Johnson waited. The bartender pursed his lips like he might not answer.
“Few weeks ago,” he finally said. “What’s she done?”
“Nothing, that I know of. She’s missing.”
The bartender’s eyes widened, and he uncrossed his arms. “I don’t know nothing about that.”
Johnson raised his hands soothingly. “I’m not saying you do. I’m just trying to trace her last steps before she disappeared. How long has she been coming here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a month. She seemed to like hanging out with the crews from the port.”
“Any one in particular?”
The man hesitated. “You think someone did something to her?”
“No, I don’t,” Johnson said. “I’m just looking for someone who might know where she went.”
He seemed to relax just slightly. “She spent the most time with a crew from Cuba. They sailed out of here about two weeks ago. I don’t think I saw her after that.”
Johnson’s heart pounded. Just like Kate had said.
“They haven’t been back in port since then?”
He shook his head.
“She must have stood out in here. You never wondered who she was or what she was doing here?”
The bartender shrugged again. “I keep my thoughts to myself. Asking too many questions is bad for business. Know what I mean?”
Johnson chuckled and drained the last of his beer. He stood and pulled his wallet from his back pocket, tossing a $20 onto the counter.
“Thanks for your help.”
“So, who is this girl, anyway?”
“She’s a researcher working on the big vaccine project at UTMB.”
The bartender’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then his eyes narrowed.“ You know, this is the second day in a row she’s come up in conversation. You said a friend told you to come in here?”
Johnson nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Is your friend a killer tease with a really sexy smile?”
Johnson laughed. “I’ve never thought of her quite that way, but yeah, that was probably her.”
The bartender groaned his disappointment. “Guess that means she’s not coming back to hang out.”
“Sorry, man. I think that’s highly unlikely,” Johnson said over his shoulder as he pushed the door open and strode out into the night.
Chapter 17
Johnson headed for the chief’s office as soon as he got to the station the next morning. Sam Lugar waved him in with a grunt.
“It’s pretty early, even for you, detective,” he said by way of greeting.
“I have some new information in the Emily Gibson case. I wanted to run it by you and hopefully get the green light to keep looking.”
Lugar raised an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to ask for something that’s going to give me a huge headache and create a PR nightmare?”
Johnson grinned and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Not me! I’m just trying to make the department look good and maybe save the DA some trouble.”
The chief gave a skeptical huff and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure the DA wants you to save him any trouble. What’s this new information?”
“About six weeks before she disappeared, Emily Gibson started making regular appearances at the Broadside.”
“That dive on the East End?”
“That’s the one. The bartender confirmed it when I showed him a photo of her. But he didn’t know who she was or that she was missing.”
“She clearly had bad taste in entertainment. But what does that have to do with her murder?”
“Most of the Broadside’s patrons are dock workers and container ship crews. She evidently spent quite a bit of time with men from the ships sailing back and forth from Cuba.”
The chief frowned and Johnson rushed on before he could interrupt again.
“Newhouse told the newspaper he thinks Emily ran away to avoid the potential uproar over the failed vaccine. I know that sounds crazy, especially coming from the man charged with killing her. But since we don’t have solid evidence to show that a crime was even committed, I figured I should at least think about how she might disappear, if that was her plan.”
This was probably the time to admit the idea first came from Kate, but he didn’t want to give the chief any more reason to dismiss it.
“The biggest challenge would be getting off the island,” he said. “How could she do it undetected, with no ID, leaving no trace? Getting a berth on a cargo ship seems like a good possibility.”
Lugar shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. You think she wanted off the island and decided getting on a cargo ship was the best option? How many people even know you can get a cabin on a cargo ship?”
“I don’t think she started with the cargo ship. I think she started with the destination.”
“What if she was looking for drugs in that bar? What if one of the crew members killed her? What if she got the drugs, took some the night she disappeared, and overdosed in the water? And let’s not forget that this all started because the man charged with killing her claims she’s not really dead. You’re not dealing with any solid evidence here.”
Kate’s face burned. Her watertight theory was full of holes and sinking fast. Mattingly leaned forward on his elbows and sighed.
“Look, kiddo, I know how badly you want this story. And I haven’t forgotten what that feels like, believe it or not. But I cannot afford to send you to Cuba. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s not safe. In case you’ve forgotten, Americans aren’t exactly welcome in Havana.”
Tears of frustration pricked the back of Kate’s eyes. She stood abruptly, heart pounding.
“So that’s it? End of story?”
Mattingly glared up at her. “As far as I’m concerned, yes. End of story.”
Without saying another word, Kate spun around and strode out of her boss’s office.
Johnson drained the last of the coffee from his cup and set it down with a thump on his desk. He’d tossed and turned half the night thinking about Emily Gibson. If she was clever enough to attempt to frame Newhouse for murder, how likely was it that she had left any obvious clues about where she was headed? Financial records would be a good place to start. She would need money no matter where she planned to go. Assuming, of course, that she had gone somewhere and wasn’t lying in a shallow grave on the West End.
Johnson sighed. It wasn’t the first unlikely lead he’d ever chased down. But it was definitely the most unusual.
Before he started filling out the paperwork for a bank account subpoena, Johnson popped his cell phone out of the clip on his belt. He pulled up his favorites list and tapped the name at the top. The phone rang so long he was about to hang up when Kate finally picked up. He heard her take a deep breath as she raised the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” she said on the exhale. He hadn’t heard her sound that dejected in months.
“Hey back. What’s up? You sound like you need more coffee.”
Kate huffed. “I’m not sure that will help.”
“Rough morning?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Not something a latte could fix?”
“Doubtful.”
Johnson frowned. “Well, let’s give it a try. My treat. Can you meet me on the seawall in 20 minutes?”
She hesitated so long he was sure she would say no.
“I guess,” she finally said. “Make it a double.”
“You got it. I’ll meet you around 19th Street.”
He spotted Kate’s car as soon as he turned on Seawall Boulevard. The wide sidewalk atop the wall that ran for 17 miles along the island’s gulf side was nearly empty. The early morning walkers had gone home. And the tourists hadn’t flocked to the beach yet. Kate sat on one of the concrete benches facing the water, her face turned toward the sun as though trying to draw encouragement from its warmth.
He sat down and handed her a coffee cup without saying anything. For several minutes, he watched the waves roll in and listened to the seagulls wheeling overhead. A few times, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The steady breeze blew her hair back from her face, adding to the wildness of the fierce scowl that left deep furrows across her forehead. Although she looked out over the water, all of her concentration focused inward.
“Is it helping?”
She looked sideways at him. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as her frown relaxed just slightly.
“Is what helping?”
“The coffee. I ordered an extra shot of enthusiasm, just for you.”
She smirked. “Is that an off-menu item?”
“Law enforcement special. You know, we need all the enthusiasm we can get.”
That finally produced a laugh, and the last of her brooding mask crumbled. He smiled down at her as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head and looked at him with her clear grey eyes.
“Thanks.” She sounded so sincere he had to squash the urge to put his arm around her and give her a comforting squeeze. He took a swig of his coffee instead.
“Aren’t you even curious about why I called you?”
“Now that you mention it, I am. You never call me unless you need something.”
“Hey! That’s not the least bit true. I even bought you coffee!”
“Okay, okay. Now I’m dying to know. Why did you call?”
He grinned at her. If this didn’t cheer her up, nothing would.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other night about Emily Gibson. And you’re right. I don’t want her to get away with murder any more than I want Newhouse to.”
Kate’s eyes lit up, and she leaned toward him. “You think she’s still alive?”
“Now that enthusiasm’s kicking in,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. But if it’s possible, it’s worth investigating. Now I just have to figure out where to start.”
A huge grin split her face from ear to ear. “Maybe I can help with that.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Have you ever been to the Broadside?”
He frowned. “Not voluntarily. Why?”
“Emily Gibson started hanging out there about six weeks before she disappeared. Coincidentally, most of the people who frequent the bar are cargo ship crew members.”
His pulse started to skip. “And how do you know this?”
“I did a little reconnaissance last night,” she said, shrugging. But her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes ruined any attempt to feign nonchalance.
“What in the world made you go there?”
“Yesterday morning, I met David Knowles at Emily’s apartment. I noticed a box of Spanish language learning software in one of her desk drawers. David said he had no idea she was trying to learn and couldn’t think of any reason why she would need to. So that got me thinking maybe she knew she was going to need it wherever she was going. But if she was headed somewhere they speak Spanish, how would she get there?”
His mind raced with the possibilities. “You think she was trying to get a berth on a cargo ship?”
“Well, she couldn’t fly without identification. And she’d be easy to track that way. But if she found a cargo ship captain willing to take her, no questions asked, she could probably skip town pretty easily.”
“What made you think of the Broadside?”
She smiled a little sheepishly. “Delilah Peters. She checked with some of her sources at the port and confirmed three ships sailed out the morning Emily disappeared. All of them had Spanish-speaking destinations. Delilah said if she wanted to make discreet inquiries about getting an off-the-books cabin on one of those ships, she would start by cozying up to the crew members. And she said the Broadside was the best place to do that.”
Johnson shook his head in amazement. In the time he’d spent debating what to do, Kate had found enough evidence to give her theory legs.
“So, what did you find?”
“The bartender said a woman who sounded a lot like Emily Gibson had started coming into the bar. She began hanging out with a crew from a ship going back and forth to Cuba.”
“Cuba!”
“They’re pretty proud of their medical training program, so I’m told.” She took a swig of her coffee, her eyes locked on his over the top of her cup.
“So you think she went to Cuba to continue her training?”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t really know. Maybe? It would also be a great place to continue her vaccine research, if she wanted to. Maybe she offered her knowledge and research to get her foot in the door. It would be a major coup for Cuba to get a working vaccine before the United States.”
Johnson gave a low whistle. “Medical espionage?”
“It’s the best bargaining chip she has. And Cuba is the perfect place to hide out. If U.S. officials ever decided to file charges over the vaccine fraud, she’d be totally safe from extradition.”
For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. Kate was dragging him into the plot of an international spy thriller. He wanted to dismiss her theory like he had the other night. But he had that solid feeling in his chest he always got when he was on the right track.
“So, what’s your next move?”
Storm clouds rolled over Kate’s face again. Her eyes narrowed into determined slits.
“Mattingly refused to send me to Cuba. He said there were too many ifs, and he didn’t have the budget for it. He also claims Cuba’s dangerous, but I don’t know how much he really believes that. He’s probably just trying to scare me.”
Johnson chuckled. “Clearly he doesn’t know you that well.”
Kate glanced sideways at him out of the corner of her eyes and flashed a grin.
“I’ve been trying to decide what to do. I just can’t let this go. If I’m right, it’s a huge story.”
A tingle of apprehension pricked the back of Johnson’s neck. “What are you thinking?”
“I told him I would pay for the trip myself, but that didn’t make a difference. He won’t give me his blessing. So I guess I’ll have to go without it.”
The tingle roared into a fire of fear in his belly. “Kate, Mattingly’s not wrong about Cuba being dangerous. My parents have friends there. The government keeps a tight rein on everything. You wouldn’t be able to go busting in and ask a bunch of questions.”
She humphed indignantly. “I know that. I’ll go as a tourist. That’s possible, right? I’ll have to fly to Mexico or something. Then I can just wander around Havana for a week and see what I can find out.”
“But if they suspect you’re up to something, they’d have no problem arresting you. Or just making you disappear. Kate, it happens. The Cuban government isn’t accountable to anyone.”
A savage frown creased her face. “Then that’s all the more reason to go. I’ll never find out what happened otherwise.”
Johnson took a deep breath and tried to ignore the alarm bells blaring in his head. Kate was a grown woman and could make her own decisions. Before he could say anything else, her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her purse and cursed softly.
“I’m supposed to be at City Hall right now. I forgot all about this profile I’m supposed to be working on.” She stood and pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Thanks for the coffee. And for listening.”
Reluctantly, he stood, too. “Keep me posted, ok? Maybe Mattingly will change his mind.”
She snorted. “I doubt it. I think I’m on my own on this one.”
“Kate,” he called out as she turned to go. “Don’t say that. You’re never alone.”
For the rest of the afternoon, he wrestled with what to do. After he left the station for the day, he took the dogs for a long run on the beach. The setting sun cast an amber glow across the waves and sand. His feet pounded rhythmically, beating down his anxiety, solidifying his resolve. He hadn’t felt such a strong conviction about a case in years. He knew exactly what he had to do.
When he got home, he took a long, hot shower, and changed into jeans and a casual long-sleeved shirt. It was just long and baggy enough to cover the gun he clipped to his belt.
Stars dotted the night sky when he pulled up outside the Broadside. But it was still early for the regular crowd. The bar was mostly empty when he pushed open the door. The bartender nodded to him, a hint of suspicion tightening his shoulders. It was almost imperceptible, but Johnson knew he’d been made. No surprise there. He couldn’t deny he looked every inch a cop.
The bartender ambled over. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ll take a Corona,” he said, perching on one of the well-worn stools.
The bartender disappeared through a side curtain and returned a moment later with the bottle. He popped it open and put it in front of Johnson.
“That all?” he asked as Johnson took a swig of the golden liquid.
Johnson smiled ruefully. Clearly, the guy wasn’t a fan of cat and mouse.
“I’m looking for someone,” Johnson said. He unclipped his cellphone and laid it face down on the bar.
“Not many people here right now,” the bartender said evasively, casting a glance around the room as if to prove his point.
“Someone who might have been here recently.”
“What makes you think that?”
“A friend of mine told me I should look here.”
The bartender leaned back against the opposite counter and crossed his arms.
“I’ve got a photo on my phone,” Johnson continued. “I just want to know if you recognize her.”
He turned the phone over and swiped the screen open. Emily Gibson’s smiling face glowed in the dimly lit room. The bartender glanced at it and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. A surge of excitement made Johnson catch his breath.
“You do recognize her,” he said.
The bartender shrugged. “Pretty girl.”
Johnson nodded. “Pretty hard to miss. When was the last time you saw her?”
Another shrug. Johnson waited. The bartender pursed his lips like he might not answer.
“Few weeks ago,” he finally said. “What’s she done?”
“Nothing, that I know of. She’s missing.”
The bartender’s eyes widened, and he uncrossed his arms. “I don’t know nothing about that.”
Johnson raised his hands soothingly. “I’m not saying you do. I’m just trying to trace her last steps before she disappeared. How long has she been coming here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a month. She seemed to like hanging out with the crews from the port.”
“Any one in particular?”
The man hesitated. “You think someone did something to her?”
“No, I don’t,” Johnson said. “I’m just looking for someone who might know where she went.”
He seemed to relax just slightly. “She spent the most time with a crew from Cuba. They sailed out of here about two weeks ago. I don’t think I saw her after that.”
Johnson’s heart pounded. Just like Kate had said.
“They haven’t been back in port since then?”
He shook his head.
“She must have stood out in here. You never wondered who she was or what she was doing here?”
The bartender shrugged again. “I keep my thoughts to myself. Asking too many questions is bad for business. Know what I mean?”
Johnson chuckled and drained the last of his beer. He stood and pulled his wallet from his back pocket, tossing a $20 onto the counter.
“Thanks for your help.”
“So, who is this girl, anyway?”
“She’s a researcher working on the big vaccine project at UTMB.”
The bartender’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then his eyes narrowed.“ You know, this is the second day in a row she’s come up in conversation. You said a friend told you to come in here?”
Johnson nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Is your friend a killer tease with a really sexy smile?”
Johnson laughed. “I’ve never thought of her quite that way, but yeah, that was probably her.”
The bartender groaned his disappointment. “Guess that means she’s not coming back to hang out.”
“Sorry, man. I think that’s highly unlikely,” Johnson said over his shoulder as he pushed the door open and strode out into the night.
Chapter 17
Johnson headed for the chief’s office as soon as he got to the station the next morning. Sam Lugar waved him in with a grunt.
“It’s pretty early, even for you, detective,” he said by way of greeting.
“I have some new information in the Emily Gibson case. I wanted to run it by you and hopefully get the green light to keep looking.”
Lugar raised an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to ask for something that’s going to give me a huge headache and create a PR nightmare?”
Johnson grinned and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Not me! I’m just trying to make the department look good and maybe save the DA some trouble.”
The chief gave a skeptical huff and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure the DA wants you to save him any trouble. What’s this new information?”
“About six weeks before she disappeared, Emily Gibson started making regular appearances at the Broadside.”
“That dive on the East End?”
“That’s the one. The bartender confirmed it when I showed him a photo of her. But he didn’t know who she was or that she was missing.”
“She clearly had bad taste in entertainment. But what does that have to do with her murder?”
“Most of the Broadside’s patrons are dock workers and container ship crews. She evidently spent quite a bit of time with men from the ships sailing back and forth from Cuba.”
The chief frowned and Johnson rushed on before he could interrupt again.
“Newhouse told the newspaper he thinks Emily ran away to avoid the potential uproar over the failed vaccine. I know that sounds crazy, especially coming from the man charged with killing her. But since we don’t have solid evidence to show that a crime was even committed, I figured I should at least think about how she might disappear, if that was her plan.”
This was probably the time to admit the idea first came from Kate, but he didn’t want to give the chief any more reason to dismiss it.
“The biggest challenge would be getting off the island,” he said. “How could she do it undetected, with no ID, leaving no trace? Getting a berth on a cargo ship seems like a good possibility.”
Lugar shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. You think she wanted off the island and decided getting on a cargo ship was the best option? How many people even know you can get a cabin on a cargo ship?”
“I don’t think she started with the cargo ship. I think she started with the destination.”
