The Missing Piece (The Jigsaw Files) Read online

  Solving the puzzle could be the last thing he does...

  PI Charlie Dodge knows what it’s like to have something important disappear. His wife, Annie, suffers from early-onset Alzheimer’s, causing her to remember little of the life she shared with her husband. Charlie has devoted his career to saving what he can—missing people, threatened lives. But when prominent Denver multimillionaire Carter Dunleavy vanishes without a trace, Charlie and his assistant, Wyrick, discover missing doesn’t always mean gone.

  It turns out Carter didn’t vanish after all—he’s gone into hiding. Someone in his inner circle wants him dead and now Carter needs Charlie to expose the culprit before the Dunleavy empire spirals into ruin. But with a tangled web of suspects looking to silence Charlie’s investigation, he’ll have to find Carter’s would-be killer and fast, before the traitor can finish the job.

  Praise for the novels of Sharon Sala

  “Drama literally invades the life of an A-list Hollywood star, and the race is on to catch a killer.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Life of Lies

  “A wonderful romance, thriller, and delightful book. [I] recommend this book as highly as I can.... Exciting...and will keep you glued to the pages until you reach the end.”

  —USATODAY.com’s Happy Ever After blog on Life of Lies

  “In Sala’s latest page-turner, staying alive is the biggest challenge of all. There are appealing characters to root for, and one slimy villain who needs to be stopped.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Race Against Time

  “[An] emotional thriller, packed with action, love, regrets, and criminal activity that will make your blood boil.... A phenomenal story.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Race Against Time

  “[T]he Youngblood family is a force to be reckoned with.... [W]atching this family gather around and protect its own is an uplifting tribute to familial love.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Family Sins

  “[A] soul-wrenching story of love, heartache, and murder that is practically impossible to put down.... If you love emotional tales of love, family, and justice, then look no further.... Sharon Sala has yet another winner on her hands.”

  —Fresh Fiction on Family Sins

  Also by Sharon Sala

  DARK WATER RISING

  IN SHADOWS

  LIFE OF LIES

  RACE AGAINST TIME

  FAMILY SINS

  Secrets and Lies

  DARK HEARTS

  COLD HEARTS

  WILD HEARTS

  Forces of Nature

  GOING GONE

  GOING TWICE

  GOING ONCE

  The Rebel Ridge novels

  ’TIL DEATH

  DON’T CRY FOR ME

  NEXT OF KIN

  The Searchers

  BLOOD TRAILS

  BLOOD STAINS

  BLOOD TIES

  The Storm Front trilogy

  SWEPT ASIDE

  TORN APART

  BLOWN AWAY

  THE WARRIOR

  BAD PENNY

  THE HEALER

  CUT THROAT

  NINE LIVES

  THE CHOSEN

  MISSING

  WHIPPOORWILL

  ON THE EDGE

  “Capsized”

  DARK WATER

  OUT OF THE DARK

  SNOWFALL

  BUTTERFLY

  REMEMBER ME

  REUNION

  SWEET BABY

  Originally publishedas Dinah McCall

  THE RETURN

  Look for Sharon Sala’s next novel,

  available soon from MIRA Books.

  SHARON SALA

  The Missing Piece

  This book is dedicated to people who don’t quit on life.

  To Kathy, for your indomitable will to survive. I model every strong heroine I’ve ever written after you.

  To Iris, who held out for ninety-eight years, the last fourteen with dementia. Her spirit never quit. But her body finally did.

  To my Bobby. He left this earth, but he never left me.

  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

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  One

  Driving behind a semi on the Dallas beltway during morning rush hour wasn’t for the faint of heart. Doing it in the rain was like driving blind. The windshield wipers on Charlie Dodge’s Jeep weren’t making any headway with the spray coming off the truck tires in front of him. Although he’d been in this situation countless times, that didn’t make it any easier.

  The knot in his gut had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with going to see his wife in the Alzheimer’s facility. His frustration was that he had to stop by his office beforehand because Wyrick demanded it.

  He still wasn’t sure how he’d let a woman that bossy and eccentric become his office manager, but she was now entrenched. She was a shade over six feet tall, thin as a rail and usually dressed like a cat burglar. Sometime in her past, before he knew her, she had survived a bout with cancer. She’d kicked the cancer, but it had left behind a calling card.

  She was, to her disgust, forever bald. Plus, no eyelashes, no eyebrows and no boobs—the last due to refusing breast reconstruction, solely her choice, in an act of defiance at the fact that she could no longer grow her hair. If she had to look weird, she was doing it on her own terms.

  Being ex-military, Charlie was shockproof, so he didn’t give a rat’s ass what she looked like. She was a tech genius, a member of Mensa, better at karate than he was, had a pilot’s license and drove a Mercedes.

  He had yet to find something she couldn’t do—and do well. But it was her unwavering honesty, her dedication to making his company successful, and knowing she always had his back that made him tolerate her constant and brutal assessment of what he was doing wrong.

  When he finally saw the I-35 exit that would take him to downtown Dallas, he accelerated into the curve. As he was turning, his phone rang. Assuming it was Wyrick calling to ask him where the hell he was at, he answered with an edge in his voice.

  “What?”

  “Is this Charlie Dodge?”

  He frowned. It wasn’t Wyrick.

  “Yes, who is this, and how did you get my number?”

  “This is Jason Dunleavy of the Denver Dunleavys. I want to hire you.”

  The tone of Charlie’s voice reflected his disbelief as he was trying to remember why that name was familiar. “How did you get my number?” he asked again.

  “Ted Dunleavy gave it to me.”

  “Dr. Dunleavy gave out my personal number?”

  “Not exactly. I might have gotten it off his phone without his permission, but he did recommend you, and this is a matter of great—”

  Charlie disconnected and focused on the drive.

  Getting to the high-rise where his office was located was second nature, and driving into the attached parking garage eased some of his tension. He turned off the windshield wipers and drove up to the sixth floor, then to his assigned parking space and got out.

  He paused, giving his stiff knee a few minutes to adjust, then started walking. The sound of the rain drowned out the normal echo of his foot
steps, which made him jumpy. If he couldn’t hear himself, he wouldn’t be able to hear anyone else. He glanced over his shoulder more than once as he continued toward the entrance that would take him into the adjacent building, and breathed easier once he swiped his key card and went inside.

  He was wondering what was so important that Wyrick needed signed, and made quick work of getting to the office.

  The moment he walked in, he smelled the sandalwood candle Wyrick burned discreetly in the break room—and then did his best not to react to what she was wearing when he saw her coming out on her way to her desk.

  Skintight black pants tucked inside knee boots, a black turtleneck, a black bomber jacket. Her only concession to femininity was the black eyeliner and the purple eye shadow. She looked far taller than her six feet, and when she glared, she was almost scary.

  “Good morning,” Wyrick said.

  “That’s debatable,” Charlie muttered. “What is it you want me to sign?”

  She opened a file, feathered a half-dozen pages with tabs marked for signature in front of him and handed him a pen.

  He was just about to scan the text when the office door opened. The secretary from the insurance agency across the hall walked in carrying a notary stamp, followed by two of the agents who worked there.

  “What are they doing here?” Charlie asked.

  She pointed at the papers. “If these are agreeable, we need them notarized.”

  He looked back at the papers. “Exactly what am I reading here?” he asked.

  “The papers you asked to be drawn up regarding Annie’s care should anything happen to you.”

  “Oh.”

  He scanned the pages all the way to the last one and then stopped.

  “Why isn’t my cousin Laura’s name on these papers like I asked?”

  “Because when I ran a background check on her, I discovered she’s in rehab, for the third time I might add, and for a gambling addiction. I assumed you wouldn’t want her in control of the money for Annie’s care.”

  Charlie blinked. “Straitlaced Laura gambles?”

  Wyrick pointed to another file on her desk. “The facts are all there.”

  He waved that aside.

  “Then there’s nothing to sign until—”

  “Read page three, paying closer attention to section A, subsection 1, this time,” Wyrick insisted.

  He fumbled through the pages, read the text, then suddenly stopped and looked up. “You?”

  “Until you find someone else, I’m the logical substitute. I don’t need money, and I honor your devotion to your wife. When you find another more agreeable family member, we can change it. This just protects her until you do.”

  Charlie stared. First at the purple eye shadow, and then at the nearly black lipstick she was wearing—and realized he trusted Wyrick with his life every day. He could trust her with Annie’s, as well.

  “Thank you,” he said gruffly. He signed the papers and handed them to the notary, who instructed the witnesses where to sign. She stamped and signed them before handing the papers to Wyrick as they left the office.

  Charlie was still speechless about the fact that his cousin was in rehab when Wyrick got up to make copies. She gave him the original, filed the second one and laid the last one on her desk.

  “I’ll mail this one to your lawyer to have on file.”

  He nodded. “So, am I done here?”

  “Yes, unless you want to—”

  “Whatever you were going to say, the answer is no. I’m going to see Annie. Don’t bother me with phone calls. Whatever happens, take messages.”

  Charlie paused, waiting for her to acknowledge she’d understood. His eyes narrowed.

  “Damn it, Wyrick, did you hear me?”

  She was addressing an envelope to his lawyer and didn’t bother even looking up.

  “Of course I heard you. I may not have boobs, but there’s nothing wrong with my ears. Stop being pissy and go see your wife.”

  “Who’s the boss in this office?” Charlie snapped.

  Now she did look up, pinning him in place with that black, bottomless stare she’d perfected, and said nothing.

  He stared back at her, willing himself not to be the first to look away, and focused instead on the tic beside her left eye.

  “Fine,” he muttered, and had started to walk off when he heard the sound of running footsteps and a man burst into the room, slamming the door behind him.

  He was middle-aged but fit, and his Gucci suit attested to either a big spending habit or big money. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and began mopping his brow, then straightening his tie, as he fixed Charlie with a frantic look.

  “Are you Charlie Dodge?”

  Charlie thought he resembled an older version of the actor Robert Downey, Jr, right down to the dapper black mustache.

  “Yes,” Charlie said. “Who are you?”

  “Anson Stiller. I need your help. Someone is trying to kill me.”

  Before Charlie could respond, they all heard another set of footsteps out in the hall. The stride was long and the steps were heavy. He glanced at Stiller. The man looked like he was going to faint, and then the door flew inward and Stiller screamed.

  “That’s him! That’s the man who’s trying to kill me!”

  The man saw Stiller, doubled his fists and headed toward him, roaring with rage.

  Charlie was braced to stop him when Wyrick stood up from her desk and shot him with a Taser. The man dropped like a felled ox, jerking and seizing.

  Stiller spun, looking at the six-foot Amazon in disbelief.

  Charlie glared. “Damn it, Wyrick, I had it covered.”

  “The last time you had a fight in here, you broke my desk,” she said.

  “Fine.” Charlie stared at the man still in the throes of the electrical charge. “Call the cops. I’ll handcuff him.”

  He yanked the Taser prongs out of the big man’s chest and rolled and handcuffed him before he could come to his senses.

  Stiller’s mouth was agape.

  Charlie pointed. “You said this is the man who’s trying to kill you?”

  Stiller nodded.

  “So I believe your problem’s been solved. I have a minimum charge of five thousand dollars for a simple service. I take check or credit card. Wyrick will write you a receipt.”

  Stiller frowned as he reached for his wallet.

  “Out of curiosity, why was he trying to kill you?” Charlie asked.

  Stiller shrugged as he pulled out a gold credit card and handed it over.

  “I was having an affair.”

  “What does he have to do with it?”

  “He’s the one I was having the affair with,” Stiller said. “I broke it off this morning. He didn’t take the news very well.”

  Charlie could hear sirens, which was good. A few minutes later the sound of more footsteps could be heard. He went to the door, and then waved at the trio of police officers coming down the hall.

  “In here,” he said.

  The trio from Dallas PD entered the room.

  “Hey, Dodge, what’s going on here?” one of them asked.

  Charlie pointed at Stiller.

  “He’ll tell you all about it. Right now, all you need to know is the dude in handcuffs was supposedly trying to kill the dude in the Gucci suit. I’m late for an appointment. If you need anything else, ask Wyrick. She’s the one who took him down.”

  The officers knew all about Dodge’s assistant. He realized she made them nervous, but a witness was a witness. They walked toward her desk as Charlie went out the door. By the time he got to the parking garage, he was already thinking of Annie.

  It would be twenty-three years this May since they’d married, and going on three years since her early-onset Alzheimer’s diagnosis. She’d lost cognizance so fast that he’d been forced to place her in Morning Light for her own safety. It was a memory care center, twenty minutes from his Dallas town house, and the fact that they were now in charge
of her care and he was just the visitor in her life grated on every nerve he had.

  He drove out of the parking garage and back into the rain with all the intensity of going to war. He hadn’t seen her in a week. She didn’t miss him, but he missed her, to the point of physical pain.

  He wondered if the cops had left his office yet, but wasn’t worried. Wyrick could handle herself. And most times she handled him, too, even though she was supposed to answer to him. He was, after all, the damn boss.

  Memo to self: but he did answer to her. She ran his private investigation business like a Fortune 500 company, while treating him like the janitor who never swept the corners. And he tolerated it.

  He braked for a red light and as he did, saw the car in front of him shoot through the intersection and get T-boned by the driver of a delivery van. Both drivers got out in the rain. One was yelling. The other was waving his arms. One swung, one ducked, and the fight was on.

  As soon as the light turned green, Charlie drove out around them and moved down the street. A couple of blocks later, he was turning the corner toward the care center when a cop car came toward him from the other direction, running hot. The cop’s lights and siren probably had more to do with the fight than the accident.

  When he drove into the parking lot at Morning Light and saw emergency vehicles in front of the building, he frowned. Surely if this had anything to do with Annie they would have notified him. He checked his cell phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call, and then breathed a little easier when it was clear.

  He parked as close to the entrance as he could, then ran into the building, dripping water as he went. And as always, the moment he crossed the threshold he felt off balance—like the residents who lived here.