On Borrowed Time by David Rosenfelt Read Free Book Online Page B

she wasn’t making progress.”
    “So when did she go?” I asked.
    “May fourteenth.”
    I took a deep breath of my own; the timing was right.
    “When did you meet Jen?” she asked.
    “June.”
    She nodded her own relief. “Anyway, she promised to stay in touch, though the promise wasn’t necessary. I can’t remember a day when we didn’t talk, no matter where we might be. In fact, she called me a few hours after she left, just to say hello. That was the last time I heard from her.”
    “So what did you do?”
    “We, my parents and I, started to worry after the first day. We couldn’t reach her cell phone; it just immediately went to voice mail. By the third day we were going crazy, and we went to our local police chief, Tony Brus.”
    “What did he say?” I asked.
    “That it was really too soon for police action, that an adult on the road who hasn’t checked in for that short a time was not worrisome or unusual enough. But we know him, and he’s a great guy, so he did some things to try and ease our minds.”
    “Like what?” I asked.
    “He ran traces on her credit cards and cell phone, to see whether she used them. She hadn’t made or received any calls except the one to me, and she only used her credit card once, at a gas station about six hours from home.”
    “So did he pursue it further?”
    She nodded. “Yes. He put her information into a national database, which notifies law enforcement agencies everywhere. After a few more days, when we still heard nothing, he notified the FBI.”
    “So they’re on it?”
    “Technically, yes. But I don’t think they’ve actively pursued it. I don’t think this is high-profile enough. And local police aren’t doing much, because no one has any idea where she disappeared.”
    “What about your police chief?”
    “He’s doing what he can. He interviewed all of Julie’s friends, but there was really nothing to learn. Nobody from Fort Atkinson hurt her; everybody there loves her,” she said, starting to choke up and dab at her eyes with her napkin.
    “So nothing happened after that, in all this time?”
    “Nothing until you,” she said.
    “I wish me entering the picture was a positive for you,” I said. “But at this point I don’t see it. None of it fits.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m afraid it raises more questions than it answers. For instance, is Jen … Julie … the kind of person who would tell you she was going to California, but instead come to New York and never contact you?”
    She shook her head. “No.”
    “But let’s assume she did just that. When she got here, why would she completely take on a new identity?”
    Allie didn’t answer; she obviously couldn’t explain it any better than I could.
    “Was she afraid of anyone?” I asked. “Was anyone after her? Threatening her for some reason?”
    “No. She would have told me if that were the case. I was with her every day. I was with her when she left. Julie was not running away. She was going towards something.”
    “So all we have is a resemblance,” I said, then corrected myself. “No, it’s even more than a resemblance. It’s uncanny.”
    “We have more than that,” she said. “Both of the people we’re talking about, Julie and Jen, they disappeared without a trace. And around the same time Julie left, Jen appeared. That’s way more than a coincidence.”
    “That’s true, but it doesn’t explain nearly enough.” I found that I was forcing myself to be negative, because negative in this case was the same as realistic, and Allie deserved the truth. “There’s so much more to this. I lived with her; we were going to be married. She was part of my life. But nobody remembers her; everybody I know and trust tells me that she never existed, that I imagined everything. There can’t be a conspiracy this wide.”
    Again she had nothing to say to this, no way to refute it, so she stayed silent.
    “So absolutely none of this makes sense,” I said.
    “Tell