Bruce Webb sat in his parked car down the street from the home of a man who had filed a disability claim with his employer, a tree trimming company. The man supposedly ruptured two vertebrae in his back when he fell from a tree while on the job. Since he had a history of filing questionable claims, the tree trimming company hired the PI firm Webb worked for to investigate their employee. The assignment went to him.
A tropical storm threatening the Gulf coast was on the way. The sky had gone thick with clouds and turned dark gray. He would soon have to abandon the stakeout. The man's wife pulled into the driveway and honked her horn.
He came out of the house, glanced around, and helped his wife unload groceries. Webb zoomed in his camera and recorded a video. "Gotcha!"
The man made several trips to the car for groceries, and the money shot came when he bent over the open trunk and hoisted out two cases of beer stacked atop each other. Webb was pleased. His job was rarely this easy. He emailed the video to his boss and sent a message he was calling it a day. With the storm coming, he needed to get home.
While driving, he thought about Cassandra Drakos. During his breakfast meeting with Danno Holt, he swore to his old crew member he knew nothing about her whereabouts. He read doubt in Danno's expression. It made him especially vigilant during his trips to Clearwater to make sure he wasn't being followed or otherwise tracked.
Webb contemplated knocking on her aunt's door and confessing to the two women all he knew. It would spook them. They would think him sketchy for having kept tabs on the girl for the past five years, but Cassandra's safety trumped their opinion of him. Marnie had performed admirably keeping her niece safe and under control, but if his old crew was sniffing around again, he needed to warn them to run.
Cassandra's sudden disappearance stopped Webb from acting on his plan. The girl never failed to hit the beach around noon, and for the past three days she had been a no show.
He thought she and her aunt might have gone on a trip or moved away, but Marnie's car remained parked in its spot, and he had seen the woman outside, taking trash to the condo dumpster. He doubted Cassandra was laid up sick. Nothing seemed to keep that girl down.
Webb's intuition led him to believe she was being watched over by someone else, a person equally concerned about her well-being as Marnie. The only person to come to mind would be Milos Argyros. If that were the case, Cassandra was probably in more danger with him than if she had remained with her aunt. Tipstaff Security would anticipate the move and eventually close in.
Webb planned on spending some time in Tarpon Springs to see if he could track her down near her uncle's hangouts. He had long since given up trying to rationalize the reason behind his fixation on the girl. He just accepted it as guilt over being involved with the killing of her mother and his fear of her fate should Doctor Armando get his grubby hands on her.
He also acknowledged his curious fascination over what she was. Cassandra had seemed so normal five years ago when he met her during that chance encounter, adorable even. As a teen girl she continued to do teen girl things, nothing out of the ordinary. He couldn't reconcile how someday she might become something else. He needed to find out for himself when and how that might occur.
Webb pulled into his garage as the first thick drops of rain splashed down. Brandon burst from the house into the garage carrying a baseball and both gloves. His face turned glum when he saw the rain. "You promised you would play catch with me."
He hated disappointing his son, but this time it wasn't his fault. "We can blame the rain for ruining our fun. I'm just as bummed about it as you are. I was really looking forward to seeing how well your pitches have improved."
Brandon's face brightened. "Coach says this season I might make first string as a pitcher." For a ten-year-old, his boy had a strong arm and his coordination had greatly improved since he first started playing Little League baseball at age eight.
Webb bent at the waist to get eye-level with him. He whispered. "Don't tell your mom, but after dinner maybe we'll sneak down to the basement to toss the ball around."
Webb knew his son would be keen on the promise of getting into mischief with his father. Brandon whispered, "Okay, Dad, I won't tell her." He scooted back into the house and disappeared into his bedroom.
Bonnie stopped vacuuming when she noticed her husband enter. He kissed her. "I'm early."
She seemed in a somber mood. "Any earlier and you would've caught me with my clandestine boyfriend. He just left."
He kissed her again. "I doubt you would cheat on me with our son being a witness. Brandon tells me everything."
"What did you do all day?"
"Let the vacuum cleaner sit and join me for a drink. I'll tell you about it." They rarely enjoyed the simple pleasure of just talking. Webb thought this might be their chance.
A few minutes later, they were sitting at the breakfast counter. The red wine Bonnie opened was too sweet for Webb's taste, so he pulled a beer from the fridge instead. Brandon sat across from them chatting about his day at school. The high point of his day had been when his classmate, Sara, brought a baby alligator to class in a terrarium for show and tell.
"She must be pretty cool," Webb said. "I would expect a boy to bring a reptile to class, not a girl."
Bonnie scoffed. "Do you think girls are too squeamish about handling wild animals?"
He had stepped in it. "Not at all. I'm implying it's not the norm."
Thankfully, his wife let it go. Wanting to move on, he winked at Brandon. "What about this Sara? Is she your girlfriend?"
His son just smiled.
"Keep your options open, son. Don't get stuck on the first one."
Brandon looked at his mom. "Can I watch TV?"
"Is your homework done."
"Yeah."
"Go on, then."
Brandon scampered away.
Webb sipped his beer. "Apparently, I made our son a little uncomfortable with my line of questioning."
"You did, but not for the reason you suspect."
An odd thing for her to say. "What do you mean?"
"Brandon does have a little friend who happens to be a girl. Her name is Danica. She lives down the street."
It surprised him. "Really? When did that start?"
"They've been playing together off and on since January."
"Huh, I didn't know."
"Of course, you didn't. You're never around."
Ouch. "Would you care to explain that statement?"
"Do I have to?" She sipped and then set down her wine glass. "When you were with Tipstaff, I accepted your long assignments away from home. When you resigned, you promised me this new career would keep you at home. You'd be working eight-hour days with occasional overtime when you had to be on a stakeout."
Where was she going with this? "That's right."
"When was the last time you worked an eight-hour day?"
Webb swallowed. He rarely worked more than eight hours, but the side trips he often took to Clearwater, the trips he never told Bonnie about, added many hours to his day. "I admit I don't usually work from nine to five. Depending on the assignment it might be noon to eight or overnight eleven to seven. The odd hours probably give you the illusion that I'm working longer hours."
What he said was so lame; he knew his wife wasn't going to buy it.
Bonnie got up from the bar and walked to the sink. With her back turned to him, she asked, "Are you having an affair?"
Her question stunned him. "No! Of course, not."
"Are you lying to me?"
Webb got up and joined his wife at the sink. "Maybe I've become a little overzealous lately about my work. It causes me to lose track of time, but I would never even think about cheating on you."
Except, Webb realized he had. Not sexually, but his obsession with Cassandra Drakos certainly qualified as emotional cheating. He had kept his involvement with the teen secret from Bonnie. He had been spending more time being concerned about her and monitoring her than he had been with his family.
Guilt flooded him. Bonnie was right. Technically, he had cheated on her. Brandon too. It made what he had to do even more difficult. Cassandra's disappearance came at a lousy time for him. Instead of promising to stay home at a time when his family needed him, Webb had to leave them. He couldn't rest knowing the girl might be in danger.
He cleared his throat. "Bonnie, I hate to do this to you."
She wheeled on him and covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't tell me you'll be gone for a few days. Just don't."
"I'm sorry. I have to."
Question - Should Webb let Bonnie know what he is doing or would it make things worse?
Top photo credit: StarrGazr http://www.flickr.com/photos/20197422@N00/126061444 via photopin.com Creativecommons.org license