“Yes, why? Have you heard something?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” he replied. “I’ll take care of things here. Do what you need to.”
My first stop was my dad’s house again. His mansion sat on top of a hill with amazing views. The sprawling estate had been home to me and my many brothers. I rang the bell with the hopes he would answer the door.
It was the housekeeper instead. “Hello, Ana, I don’t suppose he’s here?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. From what I can see, he hasn’t been here. I’m cleaning out the refrigerator right now. Everything is spoiling.”
I nodded with defeat. “Okay. Thank you. I’m sure you’ve already left him my message, but can you please add a note that it’s urgent?”
“I will,” she said.
I got back in my car and tapped my fingers against the wheel. I had been putting it off but now I needed to accept the fact something was wrong. This wasn’t normal. He didn’t have dementia, but he was a wealthy man. He dressed the part. He was a prime target for getting mugged. Maybe he was lying in a hospital somewhere with no ID. I refused to believe he was in a morgue. I felt like there would be some kind of feeling. Some kind of father-son connection that would tell me something happened to him.
With no other options, I drove to the local police station to file a missing person’s report. It felt surreal to be waiting in the lobby to ask for help finding my father. When a detective called me back to an area packed full of desks, I considered leaving. I was overreacting.
“Your father is missing?” The detective was wearing a cheap suit with a mustard stain on his tie. I hoped his detecting skills were better than his eating skills.
“Yes,” I said.
“Name.”
“Armand Bancroft,” I said.
The man looked up with surprise. “The Armand Bancroft? The real estate mogul.”
“Yes. My father.”
That seemed to make him sit up a little straighter. “How long has he been missing? And why do you believe he is missing? I would imagine a man like him has the means to go anywhere he chooses. Doesn’t he own a private jet?”
“He does have a jet, but it’s here,” I answered. “I can’t tell you for sure how long he has been missing because I just don’t know. He’d been in New York on family business. I don’t generally talk to him every day. He was in New York, and as far as family knows there, he left to come home. I thought he was home.”
“Why do you believe he’s missing?”
“I’ve been to his house and checked with his housekeeper,” I explained. “He never came back from New York. We had a very important business deal the other day. He did not show up for an event, which is unlike him. He didn’t build his wealth by not showing up for meetings.”
“Does he carry a cellphone?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve called it so many times it goes straight to voicemail. The box is full, which tells me he isn’t getting my messages. I am filing the report here, but I don’t honestly believe he ever made it home. I don’t have his flight information. Can you ping his cellphone?”
“Before we get too far down the road, are you sure he isn’t taking an unplanned vacation?”
I wasn’t frustrated by the questions. They were questions I had asked myself. It just didn’t make sense. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve called the caretaker at the property he would be at. He’s not there. He’s just gone. I’ve reached out to my brothers, those that I could reach. No one has seen him. I talked with the family he was visiting in New York, and they have no idea. He’s just gone.”
“Would there be any reason for him to leave and disappear?” he asked. “Does he owe anyone money?”
I gave him a dry look. Everyone in the city knew who we were. We didn’t owe anyone money. “No.”
“Okay,” he said. “Sorry, I had to ask. What about his mental state?”
“Fine,” I said. “He was in a good place. He reconnected with some distant family and things were looking up. He has a decent relationship with all of us. He and I have a business venture that is very important. He wouldn’t just walk away.”
“Oh, those new apartments or something, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s a huge investment. My father wouldn’t just walk away from this. He’s gone. I don’t know if he’s been kidnapped or is hurt somewhere. All I know is he isn’t here, and no one knows where he is.”
I didn’t want to sound panicky, but I was starting to feel that way. We had the money and means to move mountains. I would do exactly that to find my father. The detective asked me a few more questions. I did my best to answer everything. Any little tidbit of information I could provide might be the key to finding him.
“Thank you for your time,” I said. “I appreciate you taking this seriously. I expected to be laughed out of the building.”
“Not at all,” the detective replied. “I’ll make some calls and see what I can find. I’ll be in touch.”
I left the station feeling a little better. I didn’t really solve anything, but I did feel like I had help. I wasn’t crazy. Someone else was looking for him. I felt like I was doing something.