"Being lost is worth being found."
Neil Diamond

As I walk into Frank Reed's office demanding to know who the hell this fucking Robert guy is, I see that I interrupted a heated conversation between Benson and Reed.

Benson's face is bright red as Reed sits at his desk with his hand up defensively, taking whatever shit Benson throws his way.

They both stop and look at me.

I repeat myself, "Who the fuck is this Robert guy?"

Reed stands. "He's my good friend and head of security at my company. I will personally vouch for him."

I've had enough, and obviously, so has Benson.

"I need everything you have on Robert; what the hell is his last name?"

Reed crosses his arms across his puffed-out chest. "Who the hell are you?"

Is he trying to intimate me? What a joke.

I flash him my detective shield. "I'm Detective Sam Kidwell of the San Diego Police Department. Now, I'll ask again: what is Robert's last name?"

"Anderson," Reed hesitantly answers me.

I feel this guy will not give up anything about his friend easily.

"Will you let me see his employment records?" I ask, already knowing his answer.

"Not without a warrant."

That sets Benson off.

"I'm telling you right now, Frank, if your friend Robert has anything to do with the disappearance of Cindy, I will cut ties with you and never consider you for another project."

"Cindy is missing?" Reed's eyebrows raise in shock.

It's then that Benson and I realize that we never actually told Reed that Cindy was missing.

Benson places his hand on his forehead. "Yes, she's missing. Carla called and said I wanted her to bring blueprints to the office. She never showed up."

"Shit. And Robert told Carla this?"

Benson and I groan. "Yes!" we reply simultaneously.

Reed sits back in his chair and combs his fingers through his hair nervously before pulling a folder from the left desk drawer.

"Here's Robert's personnel file."

I can see the turmoil on Reed's face as he betrays his friend.

"Thank you," I say in a much softer tone as I take the file from his hands.

I look to Benson and give him a nod towards the door.

He places a reassuring hand on Reed's shoulder before following me out of the office.

Once outside, Benson speaks, "What can I do to help?"

While I appreciate his offer, I know this is Cindy's expertise, not Benson's.

"I got this, but I promise to keep you in the loop."

Benson nods in understanding. "Let me know if you need anything; there's no amount of money that I won't give to make sure Cindy returns to us safely."

"Thank you," Is all that I can say before we get into our respective cars and leave the parking lot.

I call Jerry. He picks up on the first ring.

"Jerry?"

"Yeah," he responds blankly, and I feel the loss he's feeling.

"How fast can you be at my house?"

"Frank and I are waiting in your driveway."

I shake my head. "Of course you are. I'll be there in ten."

I pull into my driveway, and they're waiting on my front porch. I quickly park and jump out of my car to join them. Everyone is silent as I unlock the front door.

Once I step inside the home I share with Cindy, my heart catches in my throat. Her perfume assaults my senses, and I see her gorgeous face smiling back at me in photos everywhere my eyes fall on.

Jerry squeezes my shoulder. "You got this, son."

I turn on the lights, and the three of us go to the dining room. I grab my laptop and Cindy's backup laptop, knowing she takes hers to the office. Frank places his computer on the table as well. I toss Anderson's folder in the middle.

Jerry picks it up and begins reading as we start up the computers.

I break the silence, "So, how did you get here so fast, Jerry? You live an hour away."

He looks up from the file. "I was meeting with Frank when you called." His eyes return to the folder.

I appreciate that Jerry is in his no-nonsense detective mode.

As I walk into the kitchen to make coffee, Frank sets up our workspace. I open the cupboard to get mugs and see Cindy's favorite rainbow coffee cup in the front. Tears well up in my eyes, and I struggle to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Swiping away a stray tear that managed to escape, I take a moment to pull myself together.

After getting the coffee ready, I return to Jerry and Frank; they wait for me to start.

Once I take my seat, Jerry begins, and it's unbelievable how much Cindy sounds like him.

"Robert Anderson, age 37, married 11 years to Beth Anderson; they have one five-year-old daughter, Betsy. He joined Frank Reed at Big Dog Contracting after Trusted Construction laid him off as their foreman. When Reed began his company, he hired his high school friend, Robert Anderson, to run his security. Anderson has a computer science degree from CLA and has extensive experience in the IT field."

Jerry closes the file.

I take a moment to think. "I don't get it."

"What don't you get?" Frank questioned.

I sigh, "There is something familiar about this."

I go to Cindy's computer, hit a couple of keys, and open her file on Big Dog Contracting. I scan it until I find what I want, then click on the document I want.

After browsing it, I turn the laptop towards Jerry and Frank.  "Cindy vetted Robert Anderson and found everything you just read to us with no red flags."

"Well, something is off with this guy," Jerry says. "Cindy would never have left her office if he didn't lie about Benson needing blueprints."

"I agree; we need to dig deeper. We need to know if that warehouse or any other properties are associated with Robert. We have his home address, but he would be more of an idiot than we already think he is if he took Cindy home to meet the wife and kid."

Jerry and Frank nod in agreement. I returned to my laptop while Jerry used Cindy's.

Two hours and two pots of coffee later, we found what we were looking for: Robert's connection to the warehouse.

The warehouse made plastic parts and went out of business ten years ago. No one ever attempted to sell the property; it has stood vacant since.

It took some digging on Jerry's part, but he found the warehouse owner, Thomas Blanken. Blanken is a distant cousin of Robert Anderson from his mother's side. Although it's only circumstantial evidence, it's enough for us to realize we're on the right track.

Blanken died last year of pneumonia. He owns a home on the south side of San Diego that his family put on the market following his death. It's no longer for sale, and there is no proof that the property has sold.

Jerry, being the senior detective among us, took control. "Here's how I see this happening. I think we have enough circumstantial evidence for Frank and me to go to Anderson's home and bring him in for questioning."

He pauses and looks at me. "You go and check out Blanken's home. I would feel more comfortable if you took Pete with you for backup. We already know that Anderson moved Cindy from the warehouse.  Frank can send a forensic team to there to process the scene."

I acknowledge Jerry with a nod before grabbing my phone to call Pete.

He answers immediately, "Hey, Sam, what do you need?"

I smile at my friend's willingness to stop everything and help.

I take a moment to fill Pete in on everything we discovered after he and I parted ways at the warehouse. He agrees to meet me at the Blanken address. We hang up, and I quickly send Pete the address.

Jerry and Frank already have things cleaned up.

Frank says, "A forensic unit is on its way to the warehouse."

"We're heading over to Anderson's home right now. We'll keep you informed," Jerry adds.

"Likewise," I respond and follow them out of the front door.

Once in my car, I called Benson to keep him in the loop. It took a lot to convince him not to come to the Blanken home. He even threatened bodily harm if I did not give him the address, saying he would find it on his own. I hope to hell that he keeps his promise and stays away. Benson lacks the training for what Pete and I are about to do.

I arrive at the location first and park a block away, observing the target house. Five minutes later, Pete pulled in behind me in his car, knowing that showing up in a police cruiser would give us away.

He opens my passenger door and gets in beside me. "What's the plan?"

I answer him without moving my eyes away from the house. "It's difficult to see in the dark, but the lampost shows the freshly mowed lawn. So, someone is taking care of the property. Besides that, the house is dark and has no activity as far as I can see."

"We have no probable cause to enter that house," Pete says as he looks at me. He pauses momentarily, "But we're going to do it anyway, right?"

My response is short, "Right."

I found Cindy; I know she is in that house. I can feel it, and I can feel her presence. No law is going to keep me from her. I'm going into that house and bringing my girl home.