Page 63 of I’ll Be Watching You

She handed me a card. “If you see him, call this number. Our counselors are well trained. Maybe you can encourage him to talk to one of our people. You’re a vet, he’ll relate to you. And the majority of our staff are veterans as well, we just need him to take that first step.”

“They have the space?” I tapped the card for Honor House Cave Creek.

“I’ll make sure they do. It’s five acres that are peaceful and secure. We can’t force him, but if he comes in willingly, he can sign himself into a thirty-day program. Otherwise . . .” Her voice faded. “Well. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

“Do you know his daughter, Kristen?” I tapped the paper.

Grace nodded. “She’s in college at Arizona State. She was a teenager and his pride and joy when he got out of the military. But after his paranoia increased, he pushed her away. She calls every couple of months to ask about him, try to figure out where he might be. I don’t usually have information for her.”

I folded the paper and card together.

“If she calls, you can give her my name and number and tell her I’m trying to help her dad.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“If I find Novak, I’ll call you,” I said.

“Novak?” a deep voice said from the doorway. “Sorry, Grace, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but are you looking for Jim Novak?”

“Yes, Carl, have you seen him recently?” Then, to me, Grace said, “Carl is one of our full-time staff members. A jack-of-all-trades,” she said with a light laugh. “Carl, this is Margo Angelhart, Dr. Cooper’s daughter.”

Carl was a large man with a deep scar coming from the corner of his left eye that was covered by an eye patch.

“Dr. Cooper is a good man,” Carl said. “Yeah, I saw Jim on Monday.”

“This Monday?” I asked.

He nodded. “I was taking one of our residents to his doctor’s appointment at the medical center. About ten thirty we got there for an eleven a.m. appointment. Jim was leaving the building. I tried to talk to him, but he just walked away. I got my guy settled into his appointment, went out to look for Jim, but he’d already gone. The guard said he was heading west on Indian School, toward Central.”

Monday morning. The same day Liz called me. Could Jim Novak have been her patient?

Possible, even likely. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it seemed too coincidental. I wouldn’t know until I found him.

“How did he seem to you?” Grace asked, concerned.

Carl shrugged. “He’d been living on the streets, but didn’t seem too out of it. I think he recognized me, but intentionally ignored me.”

“I wonder why he would go to the main medical center and not a clinic,” Grace said.

There were several VA clinics in the Greater Phoenix area and most veterans preferred one of the outpatient clinics to the huge, imposing medical center, including me. Not to mention that unless you went into the emergency room, you needed an appointment. Most clinics would see you even without an appointment if you were willing to wait.

Maybe Jim Novak did have an appointment. It could have been a standing appointment. He couldn’t be so far out of it if he remembered the day and time of his annual visit.

I asked Carl, “What was he wearing? Does he still look like this?” I showed him the recent photo Grace had given me.

Carl nodded. “Yeah, not much different. He was wearing camo fatigues, old and faded, but there weren’t any holes or tears in them. Army-green jacket that was too big on him. It wasn’t his—he was Navy—likely something he pulled out of a donation bin. Dressed in layers. Oh, and good black boots. Scuffed and dirty, but they’re good boots.”

I thanked them both for their time and left.

Jim Novak wasn’t just a name anymore. I had his face, I had his possible location, and I would find him. He might be a man unraveling, but he still had the wherewithal to go to a doctor’s appointment.

He had at least some of the answers I was looking for.

I slid back into my Jeep, checked my voice mail, then called Jack back. He picked up on the first ring.

“Margo, where are you?”

“Just left Honor House. Central and Camelback. Are you sure?” I asked about the message he left. “You’re one hundred percent positive the killer took her phone?”