The Lost Girl (A Mickey Keller Thriller Book 1)

by Alan Jacobson

  48

  Loren took the elevator up to her office, figuring she had at least five minutes before she got the return call from Zach. She grabbed the coat off her chair and glanced at her desk. Unfinished business stared back at her. She did not have time to play detective relative to her sister-in-law.

  But family comes first. She made that pledge to Zach when they got married and although there were times when she could not keep that promise, this was not one of them.

  “Hey Tran. I gotta run to my car for something. Be back in fifteen.”

  Minh twisted his mouth. “You just got back. We’ve got the Zemani case to follow—”

  “Well aware. But it’s a woman’s thing. My period. And my pads are in the car. You really need me to explain?”

  Minh held up a hand. “Nope. It’s cool. TMI.”

  “Next time don’t hassle me.” She immediately regretted her tone, as Minh was a good guy and from his perspective, she was shirking her responsibilities. “You know what? I’m just gonna knock off. I’ll try to come in early tomorrow and get a head start. Sorry for being testy. See you in the morning.”

  “You got it. Feel better.”

  If only it were that easy.

  Zach called as she reached the elevator and informed her that Amy had still not answered. Loren thanked him and told him she was on her way home.

  He was standing outside the garage as she pulled into the driveway.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he asked as she rolled past him.

  Once the garage door finished closing, she slid her window down and said, “Get in.”

  He squinted in confusion, then ran around the front and fell onto the passenger seat.

  “Lor, if there’s s—”

  “Amy’s in trouble. And I don’t know what to do to help her.”

  He swallowed deeply before answering. “What kind of trouble?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you. If I do, I’d be dragging you into a bad situation. Once you have knowledge of something, you can’t unknow it.”

  “Obviously. But so what if I know?”

  “She’s done something illegal. Very illegal. So out of character I don’t know what to think, what to make of it.”

  “Amy? Illegal? Give me a break.” His eyes scanned her face. “You sure about this?”

  Loren sighed and turned away from Zach, looked out the driver’s window. “I have very few facts. I can’t go into it without involving you.”

  “She’s my sister. I need to know.”

  Loren chuckled. “Not sure this qualifies as ‘need to know.’”

  “Don’t give me FBI speak. You get what I mean.”

  “I get that she’s your sister. But I have to think of our family, too—our immediate family.” She faced him. “Our boys.”

  Zach drew his chin back. “Now you’re freaking me out.”

  “I’m about to do something that’ll likely cost me my career and get me thrown in prison as an accessory.”

  “Jesus, Lor. What the hell’s going on?”

  “Just know that I’m trying to balance our kids’ and my sister-in-law’s well-being. And the two may not be aligned. Wish I could say I’ve got all the answers, that I know what to do here. But I don’t. I’m flying by the seat of my pants, following my gut.”

  Zach’s gaze wandered Loren’s face again. “I trust your gut. And I trust you. Do what you can to help her.”

  “And what about you?”

  Zach thought about that a long moment, his eyes darting back and forth. Finally he groaned loudly. “For now, keep me out of it.”

  Loren could only imagine how difficult it was for Zach to say that. While she had to admit that was her preference, it was important for him to reach that conclusion himself. If—or more likely, when—Amy was arrested, Loren’s refusal to let Zach help her could destroy their marriage.

  Now I just have to figure out how to reach Amy. And think of some way of getting her out of this mess.

  49

  Amy waited in the bathroom for thirty minutes, wishing she could turn her phone on. But she had little to no reception in the ER, so she shut it down to conserve the battery. She had no charger with her.

  The door opened and the nurse she had seen earlier stepped in. “There you are. Dr. West has been looking for you.”

  “How’s my daughter?”

  “Come talk with the doctor,” she said, gesturing for Amy to follow her. “And reception has been looking for you, too. There are more forms that need to be completed—this time for your daughter.” She handed her a clipboard and pen, clearly assuming that Amy had already submitted the first set of documents.

  West was writing in a chart when Amy arrived at the nurses station. “Ah,” he said, setting the pen down. “Your daughter’s doing fine.”

  “Where is she?” Amy asked, looking around the open department.

  “Still in radiology. We’re going to keep her here overnight for observation.”

  “Here?”

  “In the ER. We’ll watch her for twelve to eighteen hours. She definitely has a concussion but no apparent focal neurologic damage. A wet read of her scan shows a hairline fracture of her sphenoid bone. Not bad considering the impact. Could’ve been much, much worse. We’re going to have orthopedics fashion a face guard to wear for a few weeks.”

  “A face guard? Like a mask?”

  “Like the NBA players wear. It’s clear, protects the facial bones.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “It’s a wise precaution. She’s a young girl and young girls can be active. The swelling will subside over the next few days, the discoloration a week to ten days. She banged herself up pretty badly.” He set the chart down, made eye contact with Amy. “We do this right, everything will heal up perfectly and she’ll be good as new.” He chuckled. “She looks just like you. Bet you hear that all the time.”

  “Yeah.” Amy broke out in a cold sweat. “If only you knew.”

  “Anyway, it’ll be a little uncomfortable with that mask on, but she’ll get used to it. Assuming no neurological findings crop up during the next twelve to eighteen hours, you’ll be good to go.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “She’s still in radiology. I’ll have someone take you up.”

  The orderly delivered Amy to a room and told her to wait there. A couple of minutes later, a nursing assistant wheeled Melissa in.

  “Be right back,” the woman said.

  Melissa’s face—bruised, swollen, and abraded—broke into a distorted smile that brightened her face. “Amy!”

  She jumped out of the chair and ran into Amy’s arms. They embraced tightly and seconds later Amy realized that Melissa was crying. Amy leaned back to get a look at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was scared. I didn’t know where you were. I was afraid you’d leave me. And that they’d call my mommy.”

  Amy pulled her close, gently cradling her head and stroking the back of her hair. She started to cry. “I’d never leave you. I’ll always be here, no matter what. I love you, sweetie.”

  They both wept.

  Amy realized she could never keep the promises she just made. Her tears of joy turned suddenly to ones of sadness, of loss. Because she knew her time with Melissa was drawing to a close. Today? Tomorrow? The end was coming soon. It had to. How long could she keep this up?

  And just like that, Amy now had clarity. How she could have shut the logic of her situation out of her thoughts, her consciousness, for so long, was inconceivable.

  “My mommy never tells me she loves me.”

  Amy drew back and looked into Melissa’s tear-filled eyes. She understood the need to feel that your mother cared deeply for, and about, you. “I’m sure she loves you.”

  Melissa shook her head. “I wish you were my
mommy, Amy. Will you be my mommy?”

  Amy choked up and she was unable to speak. She forced her throat to relax, to let the emotion ease enough to say, “What about—what about your daddy?”

  Melissa thought about that—but only for a matter of seconds. “We can visit him on weekends.”

  I’d take that deal in a heartbeat.

  Whatever the case, Amy now knew—understood—that what she had done was beyond wrong. It was unforgiveable. The impact of her actions hit her full on, her impulsive act and subsequent inability to think it through leaving her woefully unable to fix what she had wrought.

  Not that Melissa’s living situation was ideal—or even tolerable—but she had now caused additional damage to the girl’s life. It would be hard to get her home to her parents now without causing her substantial anguish—not to mention that any hopes Amy had of seeing her grow up were now dashed. Amy would undoubtedly be facing significant jail time…and maybe even a restraining order restricting or denying access to Melissa…even when Amy was released from prison.

  Giselle could testify about Christine Ellis’s abuse. If convicted, that would leave Melissa’s father with custody. But if he was really involved in the clinic fire—and that seemed highly likely based on what Amy knew—he would go to prison himself for conspiracy to commit arson and theft of biologic property. That would leave Melissa…where?

  Amy felt guilty for having set in motion a sequence of events that was going to bring to Melissa’s life an awful turn of events with no good solution.

  The door opened and the orderly reappeared. “C’mon, dear. The radiologist wants to repeat one of the films. Then we can get you over to orthopedics. You can wait in here if you’d like, Mom. Shouldn’t be too long.”

  Amy drew back from Melissa. “Go on. This nice lady will bring you back to me soon as you’re done. Okay?”

  Melissa nodded. Amy ran her fingers through her knotted hair. “You need a bath so badly…”

  “C’mon now,” the woman said.

  When the door clicked closed, Amy dug out her phone. She booted it up and called Loren—who answered on the first ring.

  “Jesus Christ, Amy. I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

  “Same here.”

  “But call me back from a pay phone. Can you do that? Right now.”

  “Um…I’m kinda short on cash.”

  “If you don’t have enough change, call me collect.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do it now.” Loren gave Amy the burner number.

  “May be a bit. I’ve got to find a phone.”

  “Call as soon as you can. But don’t call me on my cell again and don’t use your iPhone anymore. Shut it down and take the SIM card out. Talk to you soon. Love you.”

  With that, Loren hung up.

  What was that about? Does she know about Melissa? How could she? No, it had to be something else.

  Amy walked into the corridor but did not see any pay phones. Despite the ubiquity of mobile devices, she figured the hospital had to have at least one somewhere, in a lounge or waiting room—if nothing else, because there were places where wireless communications were prohibited due to equipment interference. But finding an opportunity to make the call—when Melissa would be left alone—would be a challenge.

  As she tried to reason that through, the elevator doors opened down the hall.

  And the San Luis Obispo police officer stepped out.

  50

  Keller pulled into the San Luis Obispo Medical Center emergency room parking lot. He had no verification that Melissa was taken here after the accident, but given the proximity to the farmers market, it was his second choice after the Sierra Vista facility.

  A promising sign was the presence of a SLOPD police cruiser. While it was not unusual for cops to be at an emergency department, they would definitely be located wherever Melissa Ellis was taken.

  It also added a wrinkle he was ill prepared to face: law enforcement. He was already on their radar—and although he had done a decent job of altering his appearance, was he tempting fate by walking into the lion’s den?

  If the police suspected their perpetrator might be a child molester or sexual predator, they would know he could be fixated on his target and would take moderate risks to continue his pursuit.

  While Keller was fixated on Melissa Ellis—and he was willing to take moderate risks to get at her—it was to help, not harm, her. But his motivation did not matter if law enforcement was searching for him.

  He sat in his vehicle, trying to decide if he should enter the hospital or retreat and wait for Robbins to emerge with the girl, then follow her. Assuming the police did not accompany her, he would force Robbins’s vehicle to the side of the road, take Melissa, and head back to the Bay Area.

  But did Robbins drive her car to the hospital or ride with the ambulance? He suspected the latter.

  Of course, if the Ellises had not been dead set against police involvement, he could simply walk into the ER and explain to the cops that Amy Robbins had kidnapped the girl.

  But that was not the case. Discretion was the reason why he was hired, the reason the Ellises were willing to drop five million dollars on his services to bring her home, without anyone being the wiser.

  Keller checked his watch, then popped open his door and headed toward the entrance.

  51

  Amy slipped into the room and stood with her back against the door, heart beating hard and quick. Was the cop coming up to radiology to find her because the police in Oakland put out an alert about Melissa?

  Or was his shift ending and he needed to file his paperwork?

  She realized it was only a matter of time before the officer found her and asked the required questions. Delaying it further, and unreasonably so, would only draw attention to her if his interest was merely procedural and routine.

  She pulled the door open and walked out into the hallway.

  “There you are,” the officer called a moment later from down the hall. As he approached, Amy saw that his name tag read, Nicholson.

  “Sorry. We’re still waiting for them to finish the testing. I’ve—I’ve just been a nervous wreck.” She took a deep, uneven breath.

  “I understand. I hope she’s going to be okay.”

  Nicholson was in his late twenties, Amy figured. That may work to her advantage—not as seasoned, not as hardened.

  He pulled out his notepad. “Let’s start with your name and address and tell me what you saw, a description of the man who grabbed your daughter. I’ve got some pretty good input from the other witnesses, but this was an attack on you, so maybe you know him or have come across him before.”

  “I—no, I have no idea who it is. I was playing one of the musical instruments at the band’s booth, and I turned around and—” her voice caught. “She was gone. I freaked. I caught a glimpse of this guy, from behind, carrying a girl. I saw her shoes, realized it was her, so I—”

  “Hang on a second. Let’s start with your name.”

  “Right. Sorry. Ada Robinson. I’m from out of town. I don’t know anyone here. I took my girl because my boyfriend was—well, he was abusive so we got on a bus and we ended up here. I was in San Luis once, years ago. It’s pretty.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “North Dakota.”

  “And your daughter’s first name?”

  “Elissa.”

  He asked Amy the standard information, including date of birth, middle name, last name, social security number. “And your address?”

  Fortunately, Amy had spent a few minutes researching and preparing the lie. “It’s my boyfriend’s place, 2300 46th Avenue SE, in Mandan.”

  “ID?”

  “I—I think I lost my wallet when I was running after the guy. I had it out to pay for ice cream a few minutes earlier, and that’s the last t
ime I remember seeing it.”

  “Maybe someone turned it in. Check the market’s lost and found.”

  “I will, soon as we get out of here.”

  “Anything else you can tell me? Identifying marks on the guy? Something strange that he said? Accent, unusual speech patterns?”

  “I never got close enough to get a good look at him—let alone talk to him. Probably would’ve kicked him in the balls, not carried on a conversation.”

  That got a chuckle from Nicholson.

  He clicked his pen shut. “Okay, Ms. Robinson. Hope your daughter’s okay. I’m gonna get this info into the system. We’ll do everything we can to catch the guy. Meantime, be careful in case he comes back.”

  “You think—you think he might?”

  “Don’t know enough to say. Could be lots of reasons why he went after Elissa. If it’s personal, yeah, he might come back. I was him, I’d be long gone. But we’ve got no way of knowing. Want me to hang out here awhile? Are they going to release your daughter tonight?”

  “They said they’re keeping her overnight for observation. Broken bone in her face and a concussion. Fitting her for a mask as soon as we’re done here.”

  “I can hang out for a bit till my shift’s over. And I’ll alert hospital security and give them a description of the perpetrator.”

  Amy smiled warmly. “Appreciate it. Thanks, Officer Nicholson.”

  “I’ll find your daughter and maintain a post nearby.”

  As he disappeared down the hallway, Amy figured she had better find that pay phone now, while Melissa was still undergoing testing.

  She left a message at the nurses station that she needed to make a call and would be back shortly. The man then directed her to the coffee shop one floor down.

  52

  Keller walked confidently by the registration desk and through the double doors, then up to the nurses station. He flashed his badge and held out his phone with a photo of Melissa.