The Lost Girl (A Mickey Keller Thriller Book 1)

by Alan Jacobson

“Dates of service are all I need.”

  “Oh.” The woman fell silent. But the keys were clacking rapidly.

  “Problem?” Keller asked.

  “There’s a note on the file. About the fire. Is that what the issue is with the insurance company?”

  Fire? “Yeah, afraid so. If you’ve got the date of the fire, that’d be helpful, too.”

  “All I see here is November 19. But I really need to transfer you to our office manager.”

  “Yes—November. I remember now. My parents were in town for Thanksgiving and—well, anyway, all I needed was the last date of service.”

  “You sure? Because I can see she’s—”

  “Nah, we’re good. Gotta run to a meeting. Thanks for your help.”

  He cut off the call and sat back. He confirmed that they did have IVF, and it was done at Boston Fertility.

  But how does a fire figure into this?

  He did a quick search and found only a mention of the incident in the Herald—and a comment from Lt. Peter Gilbert, supervisor of Boston Fire’s Fire Investigation Unit.

  Keller dialed, then easily worked his way to the lieutenant.

  “Now that’s the second call I’ve gotten on this old fire,” Gilbert said. “In the same week.”

  “Really,” Keller said.

  “Yeah, some insurance adjuster. Hang on a sec.” He put the phone receiver down with a clunk, then the sounds of sliding and shuffling. And then he came back on the line. “Ada Robinson from Equity Insurance.”

  Keller jotted the name down. Ada Robinson. Amy Robbins. Subterfuge. “My questions aren’t insurance related. I just want to know if there was anything unusual about the fire.”

  Gilbert snorted. “Dis is like déjà vu all over again, ya know? I had dis conversation with that adjuster. Yeah, there was something weird about it. Looked fishy, but I couldn’t prove nothin’.”

  “What didn’t look right?”

  After explaining his observations, Keller knew that Gilbert was probably right.

  “Hey Lieutenant, I appreciate your time. And candor. If I find anything out, I’ll share it with you.”

  “Please don’t. I mean, I’m curious now what the hell’s going on. But if it really was arson, you know how much paperwork that’s gonna make for me? On an old case?”

  “Sorry, I won’t—”

  “I’m shittin’ you. ’Course I wanna know what you find.”

  “Will do. I’ll keep you plugged in.”

  Keller rose from his chair and stretched, then pulled out his phone and called someone he had not talked to in about five years.

  “Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. This is Regina. How may I direct your call?”

  “Agent Richard Prati, please.”

  “One moment.” She put Keller on hold, then returned: “Oh—Agent Prati is now at headquarters. He’s, um, now an assistant special agent in charge. Would you like the number?”

  “That’d be great.”

  Keller lifted his brow and took a deep breath. Did he really want to reinitiate contact with Prati—now an ASAC at the ATF? Doing what he did now…it put him closer to the crosshairs of federal law enforcement. Not the greatest of ideas he’d ever had.

  But he found his fingers dialing, his subconscious already having made up his mind.

  “And who may I say is calling?”

  “Mickey K. A friend.”

  “Are you with an agency?”

  “Tell him Detective Mickey Keller, LAPD.” Prati would know who he was—but he had to get past the secretary. And having an agency title was the way to do that.

  “Hold, please.”

  A moment later, Prati came on the line. “Well I’ll be damned. Mickey K, how the hell have you been? What are you up to these days?”

  “Kind of retired, poking around here and there.”

  “I can’t see you retired, let alone ‘kind of’ retired. You gotta be doing things. Boredom is your enemy.”

  “You know me too well, Richard. What about you?”

  Prati laughed. “You got an hour? If this job doesn’t kill me, some perp with a gun or a bomb will. I was over at DEA for several years, handled some tough cases in counterterrorism and cartel stuff, but now I’m back with ATF.”

  “Never heard of that happening, switching agencies back and forth like that.”

  “Me either. For all I know, I could’ve been the first. They hired me away, made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  Yeah. I’m familiar with that scenario. “Similar thing happened with me, with my boss. Couldn’t say no.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t buying the kinda retired bullshit. Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

  “Doin’ private stuff. Pay’s way better.”

  “I get it. Friends of mine are starting to retire after they get their twenty, going private and collecting their pension.”

  “I didn’t make twenty, but, well, it was time. Sometimes you just know. Better to leave on your own terms than make a mistake that costs a life.”

  “I admire that. So was it a good move? Sometimes the grass looks greener but when you get there, it’s all weeds.”

  “Not what I was expecting, but like I said, pay’s pretty damn good. Next time I’m in DC I’ll give you a shout, we can grab a beer or dinner. Or whatever.”

  Prati laughed. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  “So I got a case I’m working and things don’t look right. And it’s in your wheelhouse. Maybe you can take a look and give me your opinion?”

  “My opinion?”

  “If it’s kosher or not. If everything’s cool, I’ll look elsewhere.”

  “Gimme what you got.”

  “Fire at a fertility clinic in Boston. The Fire Investigation Unit supervisor had some questions, things didn’t add up. But nothing he could put down on paper.” He told Prati the rest of what he knew.

  “I’ll poke around, look over the file.”

  “How long?”

  “If you’re asking, it’s time sensitive. I’ll do my best.”

  “Do me a favor, text me on your mobile so I don’t have to play games with your gatekeeper.”

  “Soon as we hang up.”

  He gave Prati his cell number. “Hey. Appreciate this. Dinner’s on me when we get together.”

  Prati laughed. “Yes it is.”

  25

  Giselle heard the front door chime. She hurried down the winding wood staircase and saw Christine Ellis setting her purse on the entryway cabinet.

  “Anything?” she called down to Christine.

  Christine jumped, but quickly recovered and squinted up at Giselle. “Anything what? What are you talking about?”

  “Melissa. Any news?”

  “We’ve got people working on it. It won’t be long now.”

  “You know where she is? Have the police found her?”

  Christine hung her keys on the rack and headed down the hall. “You don’t need to worry about it. We’re taking care of it.”

  Giselle reached the last step and spoke to Christine’s back. “I am worried. I—I need to know that she’s safe.”

  Christine wheeled on her. “You should’ve thought of that before you put her in the hands of a kidnapper.”

  Giselle took a step backward. “I—you’re right, Dr. Ellis. I’m sorry, very sorry this happened. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Make yourself useful. We’ve got some guests coming by at five for a meeting. Jennifer will need your help in the kitchen.” She turned her back, indicating it was time for Giselle to leave.

  Hours later, Giselle recognized a few of the people seated around the table. She was tempted to approach Angelo Lira, or even Dr. Ellis, to see if either of them had information on Melissa. From her point of view, it did not
appear that Christine cared about whether or not Melissa was found. Perhaps that was harsh, as she was busy with the deal they had been working on, but Giselle believed that a good mother would be an emotional wreck worrying about her child. Conduct business? She did not think it possible. Still, Giselle was a young woman and Christine a seasoned adult, so perhaps with age and wisdom came the ability to compartmentalize.

  When dinner drew to a close and the people retired to a private room for a confidential discussion, Giselle sensed that the time was less than ideal to broach the topic with either of them.

  As Giselle helped clear the table, she decided she would walk over to the office tomorrow and try to grab some time with Dr. Ellis. As far as she could tell, he seemed to have a better relationship with Melissa, and a father’s bond with his daughter was special—or at least it should be.

  26

  That evening, as Keller was working his keyboard, his cell phone rang. His brow rose as he glanced at the caller ID.

  “Richard.”

  “Got something for you,” Prati said.

  “It’s late back in DC.”

  He yawned audibly. “Sorry. Yeah, it is. But you said it was important and once I saw what I was dealing with, I didn’t want to wait until morning.”

  “I appreciate that. What’d you find?”

  “I had one of my agents touch base with Lieutenant Gilbert at Boston Fire. He sent the file over and we did some preliminary analysis. And you were right. Doesn’t add up.”

  “How so?”

  “Fire was contained to a room that was used for storage. But it wasn’t storage of patient embryos. It was storage of files and supplies.”

  “So whoever told the investigator it was ‘storage’ was being disingenuous.”

  “Possibly.” Prati yawned again. “Could’ve been subterfuge, but that’d be conjecture at this point. Doesn’t look good—which means it warrants further investigation. I’ve assigned it to a case agent in Boston. It’s old, yeah, but it’s a federal crime to commit insurance fraud, if that’s what we’re dealing with here. But who knows, there could be more to it. A smokescreen.”

  “And where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

  “Leave the fire jokes to me, okay?”

  “Right. I’m sure you guys have tons of ’em.”

  “I did some poking around myself and looks like the clinic’s owner, John Hutchinson, doesn’t have a record. No evidence of financial distress—but I only grabbed a quick look. My people will dig, go back several years. Follow the money, right?”

  “Always a smart strategy,” Keller said. “Hey, keep me posted on what you find?”

  “I will—what I can. If this is something, I’m gonna be restricted in what I can share. You know the deal.”

  “Whatever you can give me, even if it’s some innocuous suggestions of things you ‘recommend’ I check out…”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gotta get to bed. Talk soon.”

  27

  Giselle woke up early and went for a brisk walk around the lake to clear her head, try to cast off some of her guilt into the water, and do some yoga on the grass. It was a beautifully sunny day, with a gentle breeze and crisp air.

  She wished her mood matched the weather. But whenever she passed an area where she and Melissa had spent time, she teared up and started to cry. If anything happened to that sweet little girl, Giselle knew she would never get over it.

  How does someone go on from there?

  She bought a coffee at Starbucks on Lakeshore Avenue, then walked over to the LifeScreen offices several blocks away.

  Giselle took the elevator to the third floor, then stepped up to Dr. Ellis’s office. She was about to knock when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Can I help you?”

  She turned to see Angelo Lira.

  “Giselle,” Lira said. “You need something?”

  “Yes. I—I need to talk with Dr. Ellis.”

  Lira chuckled—but it was not a friendly laugh. “He’s a very busy man.” Lira took Giselle by the shoulders, turned her gently, and led her away from the door. “What can I help you with?”

  She stopped and eyed Lira carefully. “It’s—I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him. It’s important.”

  Lira gestured with his head, getting her to walk again, away from Ellis’s office. “Tomorrow might be better.”

  Giselle stopped again. “It can’t wait.”

  Lira’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so important? Is it about Melissa?”

  Her gaze darted around the hallway. “It’s—yes.”

  “I’ll relay the message. And if it’s anything that’ll help us find her, I’m the one you need to talk to anyway. I’m the liaison on the search.”

  She shifted her feet.

  Lira glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting in a couple of minutes. What’s the problem? Remember something about the woman—Amy—that you’d like to share?”

  “No, I’m…no. I don’t remember anything. I just have to give him some…information.”

  “Go ahead. Just tell me.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  LIRA EXAMINED HER FACE. He grinned slightly, trying to appear nonthreatening. But his thoughts were moving in a different direction. This woman was now a liability. They had no idea what she was going to do—or say—and to whom she might say it.

  “I’m glad you found me, actually,” Lira said, feigning a disarming grin. “The Ellises asked me to get you a plane ticket back home.”

  “Home?”

  “To Germany.”

  The young woman’s face dropped faster than a steel hammer. “I—I do not want to go back to Germany. I want to stay. Here. And—and the Ellises still need me. When they find Melissa—”

  Lira laughed. But it was devoid of humor, a fact he did not attempt to hide. “Do you really think they’re going to trust you again with their daughter? You let her be taken—by a stranger.”

  “I—I am sorry. I did not…” Her voice trailed off and she seemed to shrink into herself.

  “Go home and pack. I’ll tell Dr. Ellis you came by and that you’ve gone home to gather your things. I’ll have the ticket and confirmation number emailed to you. My driver will take you to the airport.”

  Giselle stared at him, disbelief etched into her face.

  Lira checked his watch again. “Oh. What was it you wanted to tell us about Melissa?”

  Her eyes darted left and right. “Just—just that Amy, the woman who took her, she cared about her. I don’t think she would hurt her.”

  Lira studied her face. He did not think she was being truthful with him. There was something else she wanted to say. “We’re way past that. We know a lot about her and what her intentions were. She’s a troubled individual, a history of mental illness. Tried to kill herself. But the good news is that we’ve made a lot of headway in locating her.”

  Giselle’s eyes widened. “You have?”

  He patted her on the back. “Don’t worry about Melissa. We’ve got it covered.”

  The woman should have looked relieved, but the hope immediately dropped from her expression. She was not buying what he was selling.

  “Trust me, Giselle.” He placed a hand on her left shoulder as he started walking again, guiding her toward the elevator. “We want the best for Melissa. And despite what I said about the Ellises being angry with you about what happened, they’re relieved we’re making progress in the investigation.” He stopped by the polished stainless steel doors and pressed the down button.

  “Now—go home and get ready. My driver will be at the house to pick you up three hours before departure.”

  28

  Keller stood in the building’s parking garage, behind the large pillar in a dark alcove—exactly where Lira told him to meet.

  The click clack of Li
ra’s dress shoes got louder as they approached Keller, five minutes late.

  “I got detained,” Lira said in a low voice. “The au pair is becoming a potential liability. I may need you to deal with her.”

  Keller, whose back was to the wall, glanced around over Lira’s shoulder. There was no one nearby. “What kind of liability?”

  “She feels guilty about the kidnapping. I don’t want her to do something stupid if she gets too anxious.”

  “Stupid like…what?”

  Lira shrugged. “Who knows? Talks to people. Walks into the Tribune. Or goes to the police.”

  “She thinks the cops are already involved. Want Investigator Carr to pay her another visit, tell her we’ve made progress and that we’re negotiating her release?”

  Lira considered that a moment. “I want you focused on finding Melissa. I’m sending Giselle home to Germany in a few hours. If she doesn’t get in the car with my driver or refuses to get on the plane, yeah. Go see her. But if she doesn’t bite, you’re gonna have to make her disappear for a couple weeks, until after the IPO launches.”

  Keller absorbed that without comment. That was certainly possible—but not easy to pull off. He would need to bring Tait into it and have another operative dispatched to drug her and transport her to a black site. They could even sedate her and fly her back to Germany on a private charter. If it became necessary, they could keep her drugged and at a secure location for a month. He would have to do some research on Giselle, but if the Ellises were onboard with the plan, and no one back home would miss talking to her, they could pull it off. When she was finally released, she would be so afraid of the people who abducted her, she would keep her mouth shut.

  Keller glanced around, ever vigilant. “Keep me informed.”

  “Will do.” Lira shoved his hands into his wool overcoat pockets. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Trying to get a complete picture of who this Amy Robbins woman is and why she’d want to kidnap a young girl.”

  “Why’s that important?”

  “Get to know the person you’re looking for, what her motives are, you can get a line on where she is, or may be headed. I’ve done some poking around and it seems that Robbins’s husband and daughter were killed several years ago in a car accident.”