“We checked, but it would seem she kept most of the Montgomery stuff in her Montgomery account. There were a couple of e-mails from men she met on the site, so it looks like from time to time she may have given them a personal e-mail address, which was a Gmail account. Doesn’t look like anyone used their real name, though, and there’s no way to follow up since everyone else used free webmail, too.”
Jerry paused to sip his tea. “We were also able to log into her university account. Pretty standard stuff, mostly from students. Plus quite a few messages from her teaching assistants.” He put his cup down and cracked his knuckles. “One in particular. Have you ever met any of the TAs that work under her?”
The look on his face made Morris uneasy. “I’m not sure. Maybe. Her department has a Christmas ball every year, and I went last year. I might have been introduced to a few of them.”
“The name Ethan Wolfe ring a bell?”
Morris sat up with a start. “Actually, yeah.” He pictured the cocky twentysomething who’d stopped by Sheila’s office the night he’d given her the bracelet. “He’s been working for her for a while now. Oh, hell,” Morris said, noticing Jerry’s expression. “Don’t tell me. That’s the student she was screwing around with?”
“You knew it was a student?”
Morris said nothing.
The PI looked annoyed. He was clearly about to say something, but then he appeared to change his mind. He speared a dumpling with his chopstick instead. “Look, I don’t know anything for a fact. Some of the e-mails were suggestive, but there’s nothing definite.”
Morris struggled to process this news. “Son of a bitch. That arrogant little prick.” It took a moment for the information to fully sink in, and when it did, he couldn’t temper his rage. “Goddammit! This just confirms I know nothing about this woman. She told me he was a student, but that guy? Are you kidding me?” Morris’s voice was loud, and several heads turned in their direction at the outburst. The old lady pushing the dim sum cart frowned at them.
“Easy now.” Jerry smiled reassuringly at the patrons around them and leaned in. “There’s something else you should know.” He paused again, uncomfortable.
As if it could get any worse.
“I’m pretty sure she’s a sex addict.”
Morris blew out a breath. “Yeah. I knew.”
“Jesus Christ, man!” Jerry stared at him in disbelief. “Have you ever heard of the term pertinent information? This would have been important to know earlier. I thought you hired me to help you.”
“Have you ever heard of the term need-to-know basis?” Morris’s face was hot. “You didn’t need to know. It’s her issue. She’s worked hard at keeping it private-from me, from everyone. I did tell you about the affair,” he said defiantly, but he knew he sounded stupid and illogical.
“Man, are you serious? Sheila was a regular member of Sex Addicts Anonymous. I checked the calendar in her computer, and it looks like she’s been going to meetings for three years. Can you imagine the kinds of people she’s come into contact with? Who knows what issues these people had? She could have been stalked.” It was Jerry’s turn to get loud and he was breathing hard, food forgotten. “Why didn’t you tell me up front? I could have used this information a long time ago, Morris!”
Morris pounded the table. “I don’t know, Jerry.” But that was a lie. He knew why. He didn’t tell Jerry because it was shameful. It hit him then how hard it must have been for Sheila to tell him. His face flushed at the thought of how badly he’d reacted.
“Hey.” Jerry raised his hands in a mea culpa gesture. “It’s okay to be pissed. It doesn’t mean you love her any less or that she isn’t worthy of finding. You can be worried and pissed at the same time.”
Morris put his head in his hands. “Why’d I even open this can of worms? She left me. Why can’t I accept that? She’s a smart woman, she knows what she’s doing. She called me, she broke up with me, it happens every day.”
“Yeah, she did, and it does. But she’s also gone. And that doesn’t happen every day. If you think it’s strange, then it’s strange. I don’t give a shit what the police think. They have to follow protocol. I don’t, and that’s why you hired me. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”
Morris stared at the tablecloth. “So where do we go from here?”
“The Montgomery’s Den site is probably a dead end since she’s been inactive, so I’ll start with her Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings. Someone there might know something. Maybe she had a sponsor.”
“I’d like to be there.”
Jerry didn’t look thrilled with the idea, but he nodded. “I checked online. There are three groups that meet in the greater Seattle area, two in Northgate, and one all the way out in Renton on Thursday nights. Which is tonight. I’ll start there, though I’m guessing she’s probably a member of one of the Seattle groups-”
Morris shook his head. “No, I bet it’s the one tonight.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Renton is the farthest away from the university. And because she was never once available on a Thursday night.”
Jerry looked impressed. “Okay, good. The meetings are held at the Front Street Methodist Church. I can meet you there at seven. The meeting starts at eight, so that should give us enough time to find the meeting leader and talk to him. Or her.”
“I’ll find it.” Morris sighed heavily. “A church? That’s interesting. Can you imagine discussing sex addiction in a church? Christ,” Morris said, and Jerry smiled at the pun.
The PI ate the last dumpling and pushed his plate away. “So, what was the other thing you wanted to discuss?”
Morris looked down at his soup. It was cold and unappetizing. He thought briefly of the mysterious Tom Young, then shook his head. “You know what, it can wait. Let’s see where tonight goes. By the way, I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I really want to kill that little son of a bitch.”
“The student? Ethan Wolfe?”
Morris nodded, his face grim.
“Be careful there, my friend.” Jerry sounded serious. “Stay cool. You might only be half-joking, but in this business, you’d be amazed at what I’ve seen. Let me handle it, okay? I’ll talk to him.”
“Plan to do it soon.”
CHAPTER 29
I t was hard to imagine Dennis Fisher as a sex addict. He was so… ordinary. And he looked so young. Until you got a look at his eyes. Morris was curious to know what kind of sexual behavior the meeting leader was addicted to, but of course it would be rude to ask.
Morris, Jerry, and Fisher were sitting in a cramped office in the basement of the Front Street Methodist Church in Renton.
“I’m sorry, guys, but I don’t know anybody named Sheila Tao.”
Jerry plucked a photo out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the metal desk. “This is her.”
Fisher picked it up, his eyes widening. “This is Stella. She’s the one who’s missing?”
“Her name is Sheila,” Morris said.
“She goes by Stella here, then.” Fisher pushed the picture back. “Not that it’s surprising. A lot of people make up fake names. There’s such a stigma attached to sex addiction. It’s not like other addictions, you know.”
Morris was beginning to see that.
“You must be her fiancé, then? She talked about you a lot.”
“Yeah? And what name did she give me?” Morris asked, bitter.
Fisher smiled sympathetically. “She told me you were a really good guy and she couldn’t wait to marry you.”
Morris said nothing.
“I was happy for her,” Fisher continued. “And proud that she’d been honest with you from the beginning.”
“I didn’t find out about her addiction until about three weeks ago.”
Fisher sat back. “Jeez. If I’d known she’d been keeping it from you, I wouldn’t have been so supportive. It’s one thing to lie about your name-that’s understandable-but lying about the progress you’ve made in your own recovery? That tells me she wasn’t ready to get hitched. So what happened?”