Case File Phantom: C. Mccauley Case Files

Copyright © 2017 by Dana Ford.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2017900074

ISBN:                        Hardcover                    978-1-5245-7373-7

                   Softcover                      978-1-5245-7372-0

                           eBook                           978-1-5245-7371-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. [Biblica]

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 09/27/2018

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

746592

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Author Bio

"But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."

Matthew 6:15

Chapter One

I was in between cases. Glad the last one came to a graceful resolve. Not sure if everyone was happy, but the truth came out. After all, that’s what really mattered – the truth. As I slid into my cranberry red Thunderbird on the way to the theater in downtown Oaksdale, I thought about how owning my own investigation business was a dream come true. I supposed that I could have been a reporter; which would have satisfied my insatiable curiosity. But, I had found an insane freedom working on cases. My curiosity was not only satisfied, but it triggered my drive to get to the root of a matter. What I had found over the years was that the root was buried and tangled deep in the heart of a person. When I had stopped assuming people’s motives and had started listening to them speak from their heart instead, that’s when I got hooked on the craft of private investigation.

Reaching the speed limit on the freeway, I wondered some more. Wondered if that was where Kurt and I had gone wrong in our relationship; too much work and not enough dealing with the roots that had been buried deep in our relationship. I should know someone after five years and a year engagement, I questioned myself. Snapping out of my thoughts, I found myself in the theater parking lot. I waited for the top of my convertible to roll closed and then headed towards the theater doors.

I didn’t go to plays alone. But my brother, Daryl, insisted that I should get out more. Now that I was here, a play on a Saturday afternoon was nice. If he knew that I was here alone, he would have never brought the topic up. The Oaksdale Theatre was relatively modest, clean, tucked in the middle of a coffee shop and a small bookstore. As I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable, I noticed a family to the left of me. I wondered why the lady, who seemed to be the mother of three, looked so stunned. Did I miss something on stage? I didn’t think so. Her face looked like a porcelain mask, frozen in time. Now, there was a tear that had made its way down her etched cheek. What was happening on stage? Nothing, except that a new character just graced the set. He seemed to be the friend of the friend of the butler, dramatically babbling to the main actor about being the replacement driver and that it was time to go. Certainly this scene, or this actor’s performance, was not worthy of tears.

Her three children sitting next to her were enjoying the antics on stage. The smallest was on her left and the other two on her right. And, the way they were fidgeting, I’m sure they wanted a snack, popcorn, or something chewy. She was still staring at the stage as the curtains closed, house lights came on, and everyone began to stand and stretch. I tapped her on the shoulder, Hello, good play huh? No response as she looked out. It was like she saw a ghost. Do you know the actors? I asked.

She looked at me, her eyes blank, I think that was my husband on stage.

That’s great. Is this his first play?

Her eyes went transparent, He doesn’t act.

I don’t understand? I said.

Then the woman had an idea. She looked down at her children who were comparing the colors of their shoes and wondering when they could go do something else. I don’t know you, but can you do me a favor?

Of course. I said.

Can you go and ask that last actor who came on stage what his name is?

The actor that was the friend of the friend of the butler? I stated, wanting to confirm that we were talking about the same person.

She released a tiny smile, Yeah, could you find out for me? I’m not comfortable going backstage and if it’s him… She looked down at her hands, specifically her ring finger. Well, it’s a long story.

I understand. Sure, I’ll be right back. I gave her a reassuring smile to let her know that I had no problem with her request. In fact, I wanted to return with not only his name, but hopefully him as well.

Why weren’t there more lights backstage? I felt like a mouse in a maze. It was difficult to tell if the hanging costumes were people or if the shadows were hanging costumes. There he was! Excuse me sir! Sir! He turned around and caught my eye. I managed to hold his gaze for a moment. He was nervous, almost frightened. His eyes a deep brown, he seemed to want to say something, but instead he fell into the low lighting and disappeared. I picked up my pace to try and catch him. Wait! I briskly walked and then ran past racks and racks of costumes and odd set design items like furniture, tall plants, and a fake standing bear.

Wait! Please, I want to talk to you! The backstage door swung open and blinding light flooded me where I stood, and hindered my view. He was gone. I quickly looked to the left and then to the right and no one was there. I looked to the left again and then began to run along the backside of the theatre. I slowed down, because I realized that he was in fact gone. Why would anyone run from a perfect stranger unless they had something to hide or something to lose? Turning around, I walked back towards the backstage door. I again waded through the racks of hanging costumes and walking shadows of actors and busy people. Why would he run? I found myself back in my seat.

Did you get his name? she asked with intensity and hope in her eyes. I felt defeated. I did not. I’m sorry. I saw him. I called out to him and he ran. She lowered her head. That’s ok, it doesn’t matter. Thank you though.

I wanted to help her, I thought. Listen, I’m a private investigator. If you want, I can look into this for you.

Startled, she shook her head, No, that’s fine. I can’t afford a private investigator. And there isn’t a mystery to solve here. It’s simple. He left me. She looked at her children giggling and talking to each other like old familiar friends. He left all of us. She concluded. Really, thank you for all that you have done. I am actually embarrassed to have gotten you involved.

That man did not look like someone who would leave a family behind. I have seen those kinds of men, and he is not one of them. But, he did look like he was hiding something. It almost seemed as if he needed help. Look, you can pay me whatever you can afford. I will not charge you my normal fees for my services. She shook her head back and forth again and before she could speak I interrupted her in a gentle voice, That man that I saw was hiding something, but at the same time seemed nervous, as if he needed help. I know what I’m saying sounds strange, but my intuition is usually good. Let me help you.

She paused and took a short breath in.

Here is my card. Think about it and call me.

My name is Georgia., she said as she carefully took my business card. She reached out her hand. I shook it and said, My name is Constance. It’s nice to meet you. I smiled and then grew serious, Please consider my offer.

Georgia turned around in her seat as the curtains opened. Intermission was over and the play was about to begin. She looked at the stage. Her children stopped talking as the actors began their grand entrance. I looked beyond the stage, remembering the bright light and the man that had escaped from me – for now.

It was a perfect morning as I pulled up to my storefront office. The leaves were displaying their unique fall colors. The morning air smelled natural, before getting diluted by car and foot traffic. As I turned my door key, I reminded myself of how I liked to arrive to my office early. Yes, 7 a.m. was the perfect time to push the start button on my coffee machine. My assistant Troy usually would get in at 8 a.m., so I relished the quiet before he got administrative tasks stirring (invoice questions, follow-up items, digging into my schedule, etc.). I remembered when he started out as an intern. His talent surfaced early, and I was thrilled when I could offer him full-time employment a year later. It had been 5 years working with him now. His presence added character to the office. He dressed perfectly, with exact shades of greens, blues, and beige. A style uniquely metro, he looked like he jumped off the cover of metro man (if there was such a magazine). Early 30s, never married, his mom was the love of his life. Troy could get protective over me, just like my brother Daryl did. But, I knew it was because they cared.

I took a seat at my desk and thought about my plans for the day. I first thanked God for giving me my own private investigation business. It had yielded a nice income over the years where I had a comfortable lifestyle, a nest egg, and a growing retirement account. Without Him blessing me with this business, I wasn’t sure what I