Missing Like You

DETECTIVE GABE GIBBONS
FRIDAY JUNE 17, 2022

We have a briefing back at the station, and when I say briefing, I mean the lieutenant barking down all of our throats to get on this thing before we reach the forty-eight hour mark.

During a missing person's investigation, there is typical routine procedure I usually go through during Day One. The first forty-eight are the most crucial, and after seventy-two, we start looking for a body.

The lieutenant ran through the basics: search party, canvasing the area, witness and character statements, intel work, press, etcetera. We have our tech guy, Jason, going through everything digital in hopes that something useful will come up. Unfortunately there's no security cameras at Bee Hive due to privacy reasons, but he's scanning through all CCTV in the city. I put in a request for Isabelle's phone records. God only knows how long that will take to come in, but it's a start.

It's almost five o'clock. I sit in my office on my laptop. First thing's first: I need to comb through her social media and get a better sense of who Isabelle Donovan is. After that, I'll need more character statements from the friends in her life.

I start with Isabelle's Facebook page, which she seems to post to quite regularly. Her friend's leave frequent messages on her wall, she shares videos, photos, and links to news articles. I click through her photo albums. Mostly pictures of her and Scott, as well as her friends. Facebook still has them listed as married. Guess they haven't gotten around to changing that yet either.

I click on a photo of the two of them. I sit back in my chair and stare at it. What made them decide to separate? They appear to be the Perfect Happy Couple, but I know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving. Did they fight a lot? Have inner marital problems? Was there an affair? Did one of them not want kids? Ten years with someone, since the age of sixteen, and then just like that, it ceases to be. There has to be more to the story that Scott isn't telling me.

I think about the statements her co-workers and boss gave about her this morning. They all said similar things: that Isabelle Donovan is a kind, hard-working employee who is fun to be around and makes the work environment enjoyable. She's polite and well-mannered, she's diligent and organized, and her main concern is helping others.

"Isabelle is so genuine," one of her co-workers, Miranda, said about her. "She will go out of her way to help people and ensure they have everything they need. I've seen her miss dinner just so she can help a client. She uses her own personal time outside of work to help these people. She's driven them to job interviews. She's taken them to the mall to buy them outfits for their first day. She wants to help these kids succeed in any way that she can."

Just then my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I pick up regardless.
"Gibbons," I say.
"Hi, this is Scott. Scott Donovan. My wife, Isabelle –"
"I know who you are, Scott."
It's quiet for a moment. "I have some information," he says. "I spoke to one of her friends. Kate Vince. I asked if she'd seen or heard from Isabelle at all and she told me they spoke yesterday." He pauses. "She also informed me that apparently Isabelle was supposed to go on a date last night."
It's quiet as this piece of information hangs in the air. "A date," I say. "Did she say who with?"
"No idea. But I just thought I'd call to let you know. Because that's a bit suspicious, no? She goes out on a date with some guy and then goes missing?"
"Kate, right?" I say. "Do you have a number I can reach her at?"
He hesitates. "Yeah, sure. Um," he recites off the number and I jot it down. "Thanks, Scott. I'll be in touch."

I hang up the phone, call Kate Vince, then beckon Rylie who enthusiastically joins me as we get in the car and head to our next destination.

We arrive at Kate's house and she welcomes us inside, attempting to tidy up the place as she leads us into her living room. The floor is comprised of rainbow puzzle pieces with numbers and letters. Baby toys are scattered everywhere. She bends down, picks something up, tosses it aside. Then she composes herself and looks at each of us. "Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?"
"We're fine," I tell her. "Please, have a seat."
She nods her head and sits on the couch adjacent to us, crosses one leg over the other.
"So," I begin. "How do you know Isabelle?"
She stares at me intently, takes in a breath. "We met in second year of college. Been best friends ever since."
"How would you describe Isabelle?"
She thinks about this. "Quirky and fun. She always knows how to light up a room. I'm lucky to have her in my life."
"Has Isabelle ever done anything like this before? Vanished for a period of time to get away or anything?"
"No, never."
"Do you know if there's any reason that might have caused her to do that? Tensions in her life, stress from work?"
"No, everything in her life was fine lately. About as fine as it can get. And even if she did run off, surely she'd tell at least someone where she was going. And to not show up to work? It's not like her."
"Does Isabelle have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt her?"
"No, not at all. I've never even seen Isabelle be rude to anyone before. She's too much of a sweetheart. She's a huge people-pleaser. But that also makes her a pushover. People walk all over her and take advantage of her kindness. I always tell her to toughen up and grow a backbone."
"What about debts? Anyone she owed money to?"
"No, she's good with her finances."
"What about drugs or other addictions?"
"Again, no. Isabelle is clean as a whistle. Doesn't believe in doing drugs. She rarely drinks, only on occasion."
I jot a few things down in my notepad then look back up at her. "According to her husband, you spoke with Isabelle yesterday morning, is that correct?"
"Yes. She was at work and called me on her lunch break. We chatted briefly, discussing plans for the weekend. It's our friend Maya's birthday, so we're all supposed to go for drinks on Saturday night."
"And according to Scott, you said Isabelle told you she was going on a date?"
"Yes."
"What did she tell you exactly?"
"She was kind of coy about it, but basically said she had some exciting news. When I pushed her further, she told me she had met someone and was going on a date that evening."
"Did she tell you any details? A name? Location? How she met him?"
"No, she didn't. She was very brief about it, sounded like she didn't want to reveal too much. But now it makes me regret not asking more. Do you think he could have done something to her?"
"We're not going to jump to any conclusions just yet, so don't beat yourself up over this, alright? We'll look into her phone records and see who she was in contact with. But for now, is there anything else that Isabelle mentioned?"
"No, that was it."
"And she wasn't stressed or upset about anything else?"
"No."
"How was her marriage?"
"Well," she takes in a breath. "Things were great between them for the longest time. Since I met Isabelle, she was head over heels in love with Scott. She told me how he proposed to her when they were eighteen, and they waited until after college to tie the knot. The wedding was spectacular. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Scott was a good husband. He did everything for Isabelle. You could really tell that he cared about her. Until he went and fucked up their marriage, that is."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Did he not tell you?"
"Why their marriage ended? No. He said irreconcilable differences."
She laughs at this. A full-blown laugh. "Seriously? He said that?" she laughs again. "That's comical. Real fucking gold coming from him." She composes herself then looks at me again. "You want to know why their marriage ended? It's because Scott couldn't keep his fucking dick in his pants."