Crash & Burn by Lisa Gardner Read Free Book Online Page B

them a glance. That left the man. Late thirties to early forties. Six feet, one-eighty. Rugged sort of handsome, Wyatt thought women called it. Not a desk jockey, but a guy who actually worked for a living.
    â€œMr. Frank?” Wyatt took a guess.
    â€œYes?” He was staring at his wife with concern. Now he shifted his attention enough to shoot them an annoyed glance. Which Wyatt found interesting. Assuming the man’s daughter was the onemissing, shouldn’t he be grateful to see two detectives? Even desperate, the concerned father demanding immediate answers? Instead his primary concern appeared to be his wife. Meaning he didn’t care about the girl at all? Or he already knew what had happened to Vero and why they couldn’t find her?
    Wyatt felt the first thrum of adrenaline rush. He shot a look at Kevin, who seemed to share his suspicions. Both men, rather than surge forward immediately, instinctively fell back. In domestic situations, aggression rarely worked. Far better to be on the parent’s side. Be cool, be calm, be conversational. Then, bit by bit, spool out enough rope for the parent to hang him- or herself.
    Wyatt started the process. Polite, nonconfrontational: “Can we speak to you a moment?”
    â€œMy wife,” the man started.
    â€œAppears to be resting. We have some questions.”
    â€œYou’re the police,” the man stated. But he wasn’t arguing. He was heading toward them. He was going to play nice. Perfect.
    Wyatt made the introductions, himself, then Kevin, earning the name Thomas Frank in return. Thomas, can I call you Tom? No, Thomas it is.
    Wyatt offered the man some coffee. Another friendly gesture. This time of late morning, the hospital was a busy place, so maybe they could find a quiet corner to chat. When the husband appeared undecided, Wyatt and Kevin simply started walking down the overlit hallway to the hospital cafeteria. Sure enough, the husband fell into step behind them, too tired to argue.
    One coffee purchase later, they had Mr. Frank tucked behind a fake ficus tree and it was time to get down to business.
    â€œHow do you know Nicole Frank?” Wyatt asked, just to be sure about things.
    â€œNicky? She’s my wife.”
    â€œBeen together long?”
    Thomas Frank smiled thinly. “I know it sounds corny, but for me, she’s always been the one. First time I saw her, I just knew.”
    â€œHow’d you meet?”
    â€œFilm set. We were both working for a production company down in New Orleans. I was with set design; she worked craft services, you know, doling out food. I spotted her day one of a thirty-day shoot. Meant I had exactly one month to ask her out.”
    â€œHow long did it take you?” Wyatt asked curiously.
    â€œThree days to say hi. Three weeks to get her to say hi back. She was shy even then.”
    â€œBeen together ever since?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat brought you to New Hampshire?”
    Thomas glanced up at them. His eyes were bloodshot, heavily shadowed. A man who hadn’t been sleeping well at night, Wyatt would guess, and that was before this. Wife troubles, work troubles, kid troubles? Again, Wyatt felt buzzed by the possibilities.
    But Thomas merely shrugged. “Why not? It’s a good state. Mountains to hike, lakes to swim. Plus no sales or income tax. What’s not to love?”
    â€œAnd your current job?” Wyatt asked, keeping with the slow-and-easy approach.
    â€œStill in set design, only now I’m self-employed. I design and manufacture specific props, set pieces that are harder to find. Nicky helps—she does the fine-tuning, painting, cosmetics, that sort of thing.”
    â€œShouldn’t you be in LA?” Kevin asked. “Or New York? Someplace like that?”
    Thomas shook his head. “Not necessary. Films are shot most anyplace, especially if the state or town is offering tax incentives. New Orleans, Seattle, Nashville,