Detective Sam Kidwell

I've been having a slow morning, so I'm getting caught up on paperwork. It's not my favorite thing to do, but it's a necessary evil. After an hour of paperwork, I practically beg my phone to ring with a case. It startles me when it does ring.

"Detective Kidwell," I answer.

"Detective, this is Officer Hart. I'm on the scene of a missing person's case that concerns me. The victim's sister made a 911 call at 9:15 a.m. The victim has only been missing for about 24 hours, but the scene shows that there was a struggle," she explains.

"Give me the address. I'll be right there." I assure the officer. I gladly leave my paperwork and make my way to my vehicle.

As a young boy, crime has always intrigued me. Whenever my parents would lose or misplace something, I was on the case. I would collect information by asking them when they realized the item had gone missing and would take my notepad to take notes as they told me their steps since the item went missing. I would backtrack their steps till I found the thing. I'm pretty sure that they placed "missing" items around the house just for me to play out my detective game.

Damn, I miss them. My parents retired last year and have been traveling the country in a camper. We speak once a week, and they fill me in on where they've been, where they are, and where they're going. They're having the time of their lives, and I look forward all week to our call.

Rush hour is over, so traffic is light. I arrive at the large brownstone and see a couple embracing on the front lawn. Officer Hart is guarding the front door. I can see neighbors peaking out of their windows or blatantly standing on their porches, watching unashamedly. I park and get out of my car.

I nod my acknowledgment towards the officer, then walk towards the couple. I take out my notepad. "Hello, Detective Kidwell; I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances."

I reach out my hand, and the young woman takes it. "Hello, my name is Faith Henson, and this is my, um, boyfriend, Benson Easton."

I notice that the man, Mr. Easton, smiles lovingly at Miss Henson, and she blushes. I shake hands with Mr. Easton. His name rings a bell, but I can't quite place it.

"Miss Henson, could you please tell me everything from the last twenty-four hours, starting with the last time you saw your sister?"

She takes a deep breath before she speaks, "Yesterday morning, Benson informed me that journalist Lance Crawford's Entrepreneur magazine article about young successful businessmen and women painted my sister and me in a negative light. Benson's parents are lawyers, so he called them to meet with us to review our options. My sister got called out of the meeting by our intern. I haven't seen or heard from her since. I left the office after the meeting with Benson, and we spent the day and night together. I texted Grace yesterday, telling her that I needed a ride to the office this morning. Benson's driver drove me home this morning, and I entered my home through the garage. That's when I saw our destroyed home, and I realized that Grace was missing. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without me, and her car is still in the garage."

Tears are now streaming down her pretty face, and her boyfriend pulls her close to him protectively. Lucky guy.

"Now, before you get upset by my question, please know I must ask this question. It doesn't mean that I think either of you two is involved. Okay?" They both nod in understanding, so I ask my question. "I know you mentioned that you were together since you left your office yesterday. Where exactly did you go, and can anyone verify your location?"

Mr. Easton speaks up, "When we left Double Faced..."

I interrupt, "Double Faced?"

He continues, "It is the name of Faith and Grace's advertising business."

I nod, "Go on."

He proceeds, "So after we left the office, we stopped back here so Faith could change to spend the day at the beach. We then went to my apartment so that I could change as well. Then we, um, decided to stay in for the night. We didn't leave the apartment till this morning. As Faith said, my driver brought her home, and I drove myself to my office, where I was until Faith called me about Grace. As for verification, my driver and the security cameras throughout my apartment building will confirm our whereabouts."

I turn towards Faith. "What time did you text Grace, and did she respond?"

She pulls out her phone to check, "I texted at 8:15 p.m., and no, she never texted me back." Her hand goes to her mouth in surprise when she realizes that it's possible that Grace never received her text.

I quickly ask my next question before she reads too much into the text. "Is there anyone you know who would want to harm Grace? Has she mentioned feeling uncomfortable around a certain person?"

Faith shakes her head, "No, not that I can think of." Then, it's like a light bulb came on. "Oh my god, her ex-boyfriend! She caught him cheating on her six months ago, and it didn't end well, but he's already married to the girl he cheated on my sister with."

"What is her ex-boyfriend's name?" I ask.

"Jeremy Miller," she retorts with a bit of attitude. I can't help but smile.

"You also said that you left Grace at the office. Is there anyone there who might have seen her after you left?" I resume my inquisition.

She quickly answers, "Yes, our best friend and assistant, Liza Graham, and our intern, Travis Johns. They should both be there now."

I hand Mr. Easton and her my card. "If you think of anything else, please get in touch with me immediately. Once I finish, I'll head to your office and question Miss Graham and Mr. Johns."

"Thank you, detective, we will," she says as she takes my card.

"You can't stay here until the Crime Scene Investigation team has cleared it. Do you have somewhere to go?"

Mr. Easton speaks up, "Yes, she'll be staying with me. Thank you. If there's anything that we can do to help, please let us know." He hands me his card.

She looks up at him with surprise. He leans over, kisses her cheek, and whispers something into her ear. She smiles and blushes. That's my cue to leave these two alone. As we say goodbye, the forensic team arrives.

I glance down at the card Mr. Easton gave me. Ah, yes, real estate mogul Benson Easton. I have heard a lot about this guy. He's a tough businessman and womanizer. I wonder why that beautiful woman calls him her boyfriend, and he seems to enjoy it. It's evident to anyone with eyes that he's head over heels for this woman. Can you trust the media and what they say? Case in point: Lance Crawford's defamatory remarks in his article.

I need to get my hands on that article to see how bad it is, but first, Double Faced Advertising. Before heading to their office, I check in with the forensic team leader. We enter the home and see precisely what Faith had described.

There's been a struggle that caused books to come off of their bookshelf. Most likely from someone pushed against it. Broken picture frames look like they were bumped off the shelves, also from contact. There's a toppled end table and a smashed lamp shattered across the floor, as well as all of the contents that I'm assuming were on the table

I make my way into the kitchen and see nothing out of place. I then head up to the second floor. Two rooms look as if no one touched them recently. However, the third bedroom has a change of clothes across a chair, and I notice a purse, keys, and a phone charging on the dresser.

I put on a glove before waking the phone to see Faith's unread message to Grace. I made a note to ask what Grace was wearing yesterday. I am curious if the clothes on the chair are her clothes from yesterday. I leave the forensic unit to complete their task and drive to Double Faced Advertising, hoping to get a much-needed lead.

If I had known the twists this investigation would lead me through, would I have begged my phone to ring for a case to take me away from my paperwork? A resounding, hell yes!

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