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features of the male anchor sitting at his desk expanded. As he spoke about the latest high profile disappearance, he wore a grave expression.
    “…is the sixth public figure reported missing this year and the twenty-fifth VIP since the first case two years ago. The frequency of these mysterious disappearances has dropped significantly from five in one month, when they started. But where these people have gone is still unknown. Stress appears to be the number one factor. The glaring link between the victims, who range from celebrities to top executives, is their drive to keep in the forefront of their fields and their exhaustive travel schedules. Some doctors have said these people overworked themselves and were weak from all the adjustments to time zones, conjecturing they were on the verge of nervous breakdowns. Kidnapping has been ruled out by the authorities. Federal Investigator Carroll Simmons had this to say: ‘These folks have the means and the motivation to disappear for a while if they so choose. We haven’t had any ransom messages or evidence…’“
    What if Phisner was right?
His story had checked out. The police had no criminal record on him. Phisner appeared to be normal before all this happened.
    After running into dead ends on the Qnet and with authorities, Cooper had considered dropping the case. And after talking to Dawson, the more he thought about it, the crazier it sounded. But the poor guy came by to follow up. Cooper didn’t want to give up on Phisner just yet. He would give the Qnet one more go. Taking a different approach, he read about any open celebrity disappearance investigations.
    Nothing but rumors and gossip.
    With no bodies or evidence and not enough similarities between the victims, a serial killer had been ruled out. Not a speck of DNA had been found anywhere. But Dawson had a point, too. If pop travel had a glitch, those affected by it had to have something in common. There must be a link. Too many unsolved cases existed for them not to be connected somehow.
    Maybe there were more victims than just celebrities. Cooper broadened his search to all missing persons reported in the past year last seen at a travelport. Filtering through the articles was a pain in the ass. He couldn’t figure out the connection from them. He needed more details.
    After reading an article about a consultant from Orlando, Florida, Cooper called the guy’s office. He had gone missing six months ago.
    A thin woman in her thirties with poofy, red hair appeared wearing a tight smile. “Creighton Comp Consulting. How can I help you?”
    Cooper held up his ID and introduced himself. “Hello. My name is J.L. Cooper. I’m a private investigator looking into the disappearance of Moses Boyd. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about it.”
    “Moe? That was ages ago. And we already told the police all we know. Go look it up.” She poised her hand to disconnect.
    This must be the girlfriend the article said he left behind
. He tried to soothe her.
    “I have, miss. And I don’t believe Mr. Boyd left town with his ex-wife, like the paper said.”
    “That money slut! She took him for everything and still wanted more!” she blurted. She composed herself and asked, “What was your name again?”
    “Call me Cooper.”
    “Okay, Cooper. I’m Jean. I know Moe would never have run off with that, that—person. She was evil. Always trying to con more money out of him. She had no interest in him other than his bank account.” She gave him a curt nod.
    “I see. Did you notice anything unusual about him at that time? Was anything out of the ordinary?”
    “Not really. He went to the doctor about some bothersome migraines. He got a couple of nosebleeds, too. Other than that, he was fine.”
    Severe headaches, check.
“And what did the doctor say?”
    “That he needed to reduce his stress. And he should cut down on his travel. And the doctor gave him some medicine.”
    “Did he cut back?”
    “Of course not.