The Beauty Inside

Chapter 4

Michael

My fingers tap anxiously against the steering wheel as Brantley Gilbert's What Happens in a Small Town, play on the radio. The manila envelope lays still against the cushion of my passenger seat. I have been outside of the Donaldson's home for over thirty minutes trying to figure out exactly how to go about speaking with them.

They are aware I am coming today. Penny had called them ahead of time and gave them a desired time. I have seen the window curtain wave back and forth from Claudia looking out for me every few minutes. I should put them out of their misery, give them the details of the investigation and what my plans will be, but something is preventing me from getting out of my car.

I hate this part.

Rubbing my eyes with my thumbs I recall the last time I had accidently given false hope to a family looking for their child. After speaking with Maria Wildon, I had left her house giving the false impression that I was looking for her child alive. Having to bring her the remains of her child, who had died at the hands of the man she continued to lay next to each and every night, was a day I could only wish to forget.

I can't make that same mistake again.

My hand reaches out for the file but pause when I feel my phone vibrate for the tenth time since I pulled up. Huffing out an irritated breath, I answer it with a clipped tone.

"Mother."

"There you are, I wasn't able to get a hold of Cobi and then you weren't answering as well." I close my eyes at the dramatics that is Lisa Taylor.

"Mom, you know we are very busy. I'm actually at a client's home now."

"I won't take up much of your time, but I needed to speak with you about coming over soon. We have many things to go over Michael."

"Mom, I promise I will come over this weekend but if this isn't an emergency I really do have to go."

"You said it's a client, are you delivering bad news or good this time?" I can hear squeaking in the background and know she is in her usual rocking chair that dad had built by hand for her to sit outside and watch the sky. Mom always liked being outside.

"Mom, you know that's privileged information. I'll see you this weekend." I hang up before she could say more and blow out another breath.

Movement from the Donaldson's window catches my eye and I know it's time. Stepping out of the car I make my way to the front porch. Outside the home speaks of happiness and family. The three step porch wraps around the entire front area. There are small flower plants scattered around and if the wornness of the porch swing is anything to go by, there was a lot of love spent outside here.

I don't have to wait long after my first consecutive knocks. Mr. Donaldson opens the door wide for me and plastered on his face is a large smile and a hopeful outlook.

"You must be Mr. Taylor, very nice to meet you." He says holding out his hand to shake.

"Yes Mr. Donaldson. But please call me Mike."

"Well then, you will call me Orlando. Please come in." He states gesturing with his long arms.

Walking inside I take in the small but comfortably cozy home. Orlando leads me down the hallway where we pass a small open office banked off the entry way and a guest bathroom on the opposite side. We stop at the open kitchen and living room space where we find Claudia Donaldson standing at the dining table bent over shuffling through a large brown box marked pictures.

"Claudia. We have company honey." Orlando nearly shouts startling his wife.

"Oh, Mr. Taylor, thank you for seeing us." She states walking over and shaking my hand same as her husband.

"Thank you Mrs. Donaldson."

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" She asks nervously. I look from her anxious form over to her husband whom looks like he is going to combust. Blowing out a deep breath, I know I need to be honest with them about everything.

"No, I'm fine, thank you ma'am. Is there somewhere we can speak?"

"Of course, we can sit in the living room." Orlando says from behind me. I follow them to the large white couch and take a seat across from them.

"Your assistant said you may need some photos; I was going through them but couldn't quite pick out which ones do her more justice." Claudia states. Her hands are shaking and when she sees me noticing, she attempts to hide them in her lap.

"Mr. and Mrs. Donaldson. I know this isn't easy. I absolutely hate that I have to drag you through this again, but you have to know that the case could still come up with the same results as the last, me being on this case, doesn't mean she is alive, or that I will even find her."

Orlando looks over at his wife whose watery gaze have yet to leave mine.

"But." Claudia begins looking to her husband for confirmation then turning back to address me. "But you found that young boy. You found him so quickly and you didn't have that much intel on the past case."

"I never found him alive ma'am. He was dead and his remains would have been found in the next few months anyway. They were digging up that terrain to build all new apartment buildings. His killer knew that, so his demeanor was obvious. Time doesn't always heal, as I'm sure you know, but that also includes the people who carry guilt."

Mrs. Donaldson's face drops and anger and shame course through my body. I've destroyed her hope but in turn, have destroyed the only thing that seemed to keep her happy.

"Look Claudia, I didn't mean to sound harsh, but I have to make sure you two are aware of not only how rare it would be to find her remains, but to find her alive is downright impossible. I'm good at my job, finding the Johnson remains was not just luck, but just because I was able to give that family peace, doesn't necessarily mean I could do the same for yours."

Claudia wipes her tears then leans into her husband's hold. Turning back to me she gives me a sad smile.

"I understand Mr. Taylor, I get that you have to make sure we don't have hope, but you must understand my predicament. My beautiful daughter that was loved and adored, was taken from us. I haven't lost my hope that daughter is still alive. I can feel it in my heart that my daughter is out there somewhere and that whoever did this, still has her. This is my last shot, I have no more money, no more resources. You coming to us is a sign, and I won't give up now. She needs me too much."

I remain quiet, allowing the words Claudia has said to flow through my mind. The mother of Jonathan Wildon told me that she always knew he was gone, and although now I was able to give her the conformation, in her heart, she had started grieving years before.

A mother always knows. That was what she told me.

"You said you needed to look at her room?" Orlando speaks causing the two of us to jump.

"Y-yes sir." I stand and follow his lead down the long narrow hallway, spread-out with black frames of Whitney's childhood, family and friends.

"Here it is, we left it the exact same. Our therapist said it wasn't healthy, that it was time we learned to properly mourn, but we just couldn't."

"I understand. Thank you sir."

He nods his head enthusiastically, slapping his palm against his jean clad leg. "Well I'll leave you to it. Please come and get us if you have any questions."

Watching him walk out, I turn back to observe the room before me. Her room is painted a subtle pink with an accent color of gray splashed against the wall where her bed lies. There are two trophies for softball dating back a few years and a about a dozen awards for a science class she was a part of. She has a few picture boards along her walls with cut outs of her friends and family and a sparkly gold frame on her dresser of what looks like her and her grandmother.

I look through a diary I find under the mattress and an old note from a former crush, but nothing out of the ordinary. Whitney was the well-educated, cheerleader with the jock boyfriend. There are no disappearances in this area for her age and nothing about her last night that seems strange.

"Where are you?" I ask the photo of her lying flat on her nightstand, the image of her and her parents mock me in return.

Walking out of the room, I spot Mrs. Donaldson watering a plant near the kitchen. She notices me and quickly places down the watering can.

"I'll need that photo Mrs. Donaldson." A small smile graces her lips. Walking over to the large box of photos, she grabs one that she stares at for a few moments then hands it to me. Looking down, I view the picture Mrs. Donaldson has chosen.

Whitney is starring out at the ocean. You can't see her body, just her face, but it's the only one I've seen without her smiling. It's obvious she had no idea the picture had been taken.

"She never knew I took it." Claudia begins drawing my attention from the melancholy photo. "We had taken her out to the beach to help her spread the ashes of her friend Lily. She had passed two weeks before and in her suicide note, had asked that Whitney be the one that spreads her ashes across the beach. Whitney was so broken. She had no idea that her friend was suffering so much."

"I can tell she was a good daughter Claudia. I promise you. I will do my best to find out what happened to her."

Claudia looks up at me with soft eyes. Her sad smiles returns as she pats my shoulder. "I know you will."

Walking out of the house, I wave a final goodbye and get into my car. Driving out of the neighborhood, I pull over once I am at a far enough distance and call Deek.

"Mike?"

"Tell me you've got something?" I ask starring at the sullen photo of Whitney that her mother had just given me.

Where did you go beauty?

"As a matter of fact, I do." I sit up, clutching the phone tighter to my ear.

"You do?"

"Yes. I gathered all the information I could on Whitney Donaldson paying specific attention to her cell phone and you were right, the account was never closed by her parents."

"Yeah, I know that already. They may not have canceled the account but the phone itself is off."

"But did you know that said phone gets turned on every few months for a specific amount of time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mike, the phone has been turning on every few months for exactly one hundred and sixteen seconds each time since she disappeared."

"Are you sure it's not just some kid playing with her phone?"

"That's what I was thinking at first, but something stands out. One hundred and sixteen seconds each time is pretty damn specific right?"

"Right."

"It's the exact time it takes for stingray to pinpoint a location outside the United States."

I stay silent, my mind trying to play catch up with all the information I'm receiving.

"Are you saying she is accessing her phone, leaving it on long enough to have someone try and locate it if they need but never makes a phone call?"

"I know it sounds strange but there can't be another explanation. If my hunch is correct, then the next time she turns on the call, will be sometime in the next few days. We can use this at our advantage. Worst case scenario, we find some punk kid whose had her phone."

Nodding my head, I try and go over the plan, hoping like hell Lamino will allow me to use the department resources to go out of the country based on a four year old cell phone being turned on a few times.

"I need you on the next flight out here Deek. If you're right, this could be something more complicated than we thought."

"Got it Mike. See you tomorrow."

Hanging up the phone, I throw it over to the passenger seat. I'm in desperate need of a cold beer so I decide to call it a day and head straight for the small dive bar I've passed on my way home before.

The bar is ironically called 'The Sit and Drink'. It's an old building that was recently remodeled. Brickwork aligns the back wall while three televisions hang a few feet apart above the bar. The brown wooden bar matches the ceiling and it's dimly lit atmosphere.

I sit at the last bar stool, placing down my phone and watch as the tall red head walks over with a sway of her hips, leaning over slightly enough to show the cleavage she apparently paid for.

"Hey handsome. What can I get you?"

"Whatever you've got on draft." I answer rather rudely.

Seconds later she walks over and drops my drink off. "Anything else I can get ya?" She asks using her well-manicured hands to brush against mine.

"No thanks." I state.

She shrugs her shoulders and moves on to the next unsuspecting fool to cross her path. If that were six months ago, I would have followed her up on her apparent flirting. Leaving my ex was the best decision I had ever made, but with that came a foreign feeling of abstinence. I f****d anything that I could but then I couldn't do it anymore. I was no longer looking for the next bed to leave my name in, I wanted something more permanent, just not with someone as transparent as Victoria Yields.

After finishing my beer, I stand, throwing down a few bills and head for the exit. Just as I'm getting into my car and firing her up, my phone dings within the confines of my pocket. Pulling it out, I glance at the text I received from Deek.

Deek: Getting on plane now. We've got something Mike.