10 years ago, the Lawson family disappeared without a trace, seemingly into thin air. Upon the discovery of a hidden room, it reopens a decade later, and Harper Sloann, a low-ranking detective with a fascination for the macabre, takes on the case. I...
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I patted my pockets for the nth time, frowning when I didn't feel it. Frowning, I slid my bag from underneath the table with my foot. The incandescent light shone through its guts, showing me not a sliver of what I was looking for. Damned keys. Where was it?
"Sloann?" Chief's voice rang throughout the room, the acoustics carrying it over to me. "Is something the matter?"
I straightened and propped my bag on my lap. At the sight of the knock-off designer handbag, some of the female detectives snickered among themselves, with some having the decency to hide behind the first thing they could grab. Whatever. Good for them to have the money pretending to be rich.
"I just noticed my keys are missing, Chief," I answered the one talking to me who happened to be on the lectern to the side. A large projector screen glowed heavenly white against the wall. I pushed my seat away from the elongated table and ducked my head. "I'll run home to check. You can start on other cases."
Molina looked like he wanted to argue, but seeing me in a flustered haze must have reminded him of something. He gave me a dismissive wave. "Fine. Be back before we're done here," he said. "When are you planning to do a field investigation? The hidden room won't wait for you forever."
"I'm aware, Chief," I said on my way out of the door. "And we'll do it as soon as possible."
The Chief acknowledged it with a nod. "I expect results," he said. "The higher-ups want this case to be resolved and not be closed again. It's a bad record."
I saluted. "Got it," I said, swinging the door open and stepping out of the meeting room.
When I got home, I scoured the mess of things inside and didn't find it. My memory was worse these days. Where did I put the keys? The keyring contained most of my needs, including the borrowed key to the lock of my office desk. The files, the composite, and my investigation notebook were all locked there.
I looked under the table, the numerous ones scattered around the apartment. The drawers flew out of their husks. Utensils clattered and hinges whined. I stomped across the room so hard even the downstairs neighbor knocked and asked me if I was having any trouble. With a strained smile and an apology, he left me alone.
Convinced the keyring wasn't here, I stomped out and let the automatic lock do its thing to the door in my apartment. I slid into my car and pushed the ignition button. I'd look for it after the meeting. Chief made himself clear—I needed to present my progress on all my cases.
Heads swiveled from the projector screen when I stepped inside the meeting room. I ducked my head in yet another apology and sank in the only empty seat waiting for me. Bickins, my intern, leaned over and whispered, "Where have you been?"
Pierce glanced at me in the middle of his presentation. I ignored him and dropped my voice into a harsh whisper to answer the intern's question. "I had to drive home to get my keyring," I said. "I seemed to have misplaced it."
