She Never Came Home

Chapter 8

Chris had looked up the main police precinct of the city adjacent to where Stephen had filed his Missing Persons Report and decided that that would be their first stop. He parked the car and rushed ahead of Joyce into the lobby.

"I want to file a Missing Person Report. Now." He told the desk sergeant. The officer was momentarily taken aback both by Chris's insistence and his overall appearance. His face was very pale, which accentuated the very dark circles beneath his eyes, and he had visible perspiration on his forehead. The sergeant studied the situation and decided that this man was ill with something or other, and the way the older woman behind him was wringing her hands and pacing behind him... It seemed to him like something a detective should handle. "Please wait right here," he told Chris and then disappeared.

A few minutes later a tall, tired-looking man wearing a white dress shirt with a necktie hanging loosely unknotted around his collar walked into the lobby. "Hi, I'm Detective Dwayne DeWitt. Follow me, please, and I'll take down your information." During the walk down a corridor and then into an office, Joyce had decided in those moments that she trusted Detective DeWitt. Maybe it was because he'd been working overtime and was visibly in need of some rest, but there something about his face and demeanor that made her think that this detective would take their situation seriously.

"Tell me about your daughter," he invited once everyone had taken their seats and he'd poised his pen over not a pre-printed form, but a lined blank legal pad of paper. "Who was the last person to see her, and at what time?"

"That would be me," Chris replied, pausing to cough heavily. DeWitt pushed a button on his telephone/intercom and said "I need some water in here." Almost immediately someone entered the office and handed Chris a bottle of water. He took several grateful sips and then gasped, "Thank you." He composed himself and then added, "Sorry, I've been sick..."

"I can see that," DeWitt replied. "You should probably be at home in bed."

"I was," Chris started speaking with more urgency, "that's where I last saw Coreen..." His voice caught in his throat for a split second when he uttered the words "last saw". He took another sip of water and continued. "She spent most of Christmas vacation at my apartment because I have this flu or whatever it is and she was taking care of me... We watched a movie together last night and then she left to go to her family's house right around 9:00."

"She called us," Joyce confirmed his narrative, "my husband answered the phone and she said she was coming home."

"Did she say anything else, as far as you know?" the detective asked.

"I only heard my husband's side of the conversation, but it sounded like she'd asked if she needed to stop and pick up anything on the way." Joyce lowered her head and clenched her eyes shut in anguish as she recalled that phone call. "He told her that we were watching movies and had plenty of everything and she just needed to bring herself home."

"Her cell phone battery was dead," Chris added, "so I told her as she left to phone me when she'd gotten to her folks' house so that I knew she'd gotten there safely."

"What type of car does she drive?" DeWitt asked, taking notes all the while both Chris and Joyce spoke.

"A white VW," Joyce answered him.

"A 2010 white Volkswagen Beetle," Chris amended.

"Do you think she might have stopped to buy gas along the way?" DeWitt asked. "Was her car in good running order, is there any reason to think she might've broken down somewhere?"

"Her tank was almost three-quarters full," Chris replied. "I saw the gas gauge when I leaned into her driver's window to kiss her goodbye." He didn't say it out loud, but part of the reason he always gave Coreen one last goodbye kiss once she was in her driver's seat and had the engine running was so that he could sneak a peek at her gas gauge. She rarely lied to him, but he remembered a time when she was leaving his place and she'd assured him that she had plenty of fuel in her car. It was many months later that she'd confessed to him at a party (after several cocktails) that she'd actually ran out of gas on the highway en route to her parents' house that day. Fortunately, her cell phone had been working at the time and she'd "only" had to wait 30 minutes before Roadside Assistance showed up with a can filled with enough gas to get her to the next exit and service station. "You're one to be all indignant," she'd drunkenly pointed a finger at him when he reacted with anger at her confession. "How many times has your 'low fuel' light been blinking while we were driving before you finally pulled over to buy some gas?" She'd gone on to quote his "Oh, please, I've still got enough gas to drive to Sacramento and back..." response when she'd pointed out a nearby gas station.