The Lost Girl (A Mickey Keller Thriller Book 1)

by Alan Jacobson

  “So who else has access?”

  “Christine.”

  “That’s a large sum,” Lira said. “Mind if I come around and take a look?”

  “Says it was a wire transfer.”

  Lira moved behind Ellis and studied the transaction. “Yeah. To an international account. Not sure but might be Cayman Islands.”

  “Exactly right.”

  They looked up. Christine was standing in the doorway.

  “Exactly right, what?” Ellis asked.

  “Cayman Islands.” She closed the door behind her.

  “For what?”

  “An investment.”

  Ellis and Lira shared a look. “Fifty million? An investment? That’s our working capital for equipment and the lease we have coming due.”

  Christine waved a hand. “In a week, that won’t be a concern. The money won’t be missed.”

  They watched as she walked over to the table and took a seat opposite Lira. She folded her hands in front of her.

  “What kind of investment?” Ellis asked.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Christine,” Lira said, “large expenditures—and this is way over the definition of ‘large’—are subject to AIL Venture Capital’s approval. We’ve gone out of our way to avoid micromanaging your business. But this—this requires a thorough explanation.”

  “Really, Angelo?” Christine laughed mockingly. “We’re going to be swimming in money in seven days. What are we arguing about here?”

  “We’re not arguing.” Lira clenched his jaw. “Everything we do, especially in the weeks before the IPO, is closely scrutinized. And a withdrawal of this magnitude—to some kind of offshore account in the Caymans—is highly suspect. Do I have to remind you the FBI is now asking questions about Melissa’s disappearance? I need an explanation for this fifty mil right now or—”

  “Or what?” Christine leaned forward, sliding her clasped hands forward on the conference room table. “What’ll you do? Report me? Get angry? Threaten to pull out?” She lifted her left hand and held up one finger. “First, you’re not going to report me to the FBI or SEC because your billion dollars will evaporate before your eyes.” Two digits. “Second, it’s too late to pull out.” Three. “You can get angry. Yes, that you can do.”

  “Oh, I’m already angry.”

  “Christine,” Ellis said. “What are you up to?”

  “I used our funds wisely. And I did something you should’ve done from the beginning,” she said, looking intently into Lira’s gaze.

  “Dammit,” Ellis said. “Enough playing games. What’d you do with the money? You may not have to tell him, but you need to tell me.”

  Christine slapped the table. “Fine. You want to know? I put it in trust for Tait Protection. I increased the fee.”

  “We already paid them five million dollars to bring Melissa home,” Lira said. “What on earth could cost ten times that?”

  “Making sure we don’t have a problem. After the FBI came calling, I realized we needed to take this up a notch. What we’ve been doing isn’t working. There are risks that need to be managed. Risks that should’ve been addressed from the start.”

  Lira and Ellis shared a perturbed look.

  Then Lira turned slowly to Christine. “Tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

  “Hiring you. That was stupid. No, I just made sure nothing could come back on us. I was looking out for you. And us.”

  Lira’s eyebrows rose. “You put out a contract on Amy Robbins?”

  Christine cocked her head. An admission without verbal confirmation.

  “Oh my god,” Ellis said. “Christine, please tell me Angelo’s wrong.”

  Christine turned away and let her gaze roam the walls.

  “Jesus Christ.” Ellis dropped his head into his hands. “This isn’t happening.”

  “Christine,” Lira said, his voice soft yet confident. “You need to call it off. We can’t do this.”

  “You can’t do it. That’s why I did.”

  “You may’ve thought that was a good idea, but trust me. It’s not. Let my guy do his thing, get Melissa back safely. Robbins won’t come forward. She can’t because she committed a felony. She abducted a young girl. She’ll go to prison. Plus, she doesn’t know anything about the IPO. She’s not going to try to extort us. And even if she does, again…she committed a serious crime.”

  “Your guy needed extra motivation,” Christine said. “Five million wasn’t getting the job done and there was no time to hire someone else. So I gave him forty-five million other reasons to bring Melissa home—and make sure none of this comes back on us. Ever.”

  Lira got up and faced the wall, put his hands on his hips, and closed his eyes. “Brandon, I’m going to touch base with Bill Tait and see about calling this off.”

  “When the job’s done,” Christine said, “the fee automatically gets paid out of the trust account. Even if I try to cancel, which I can’t, the fee still gets paid.”

  Lira pulled out his phone. He punched in a string of numbers and then left the room while it rang.

  Ellis sat there staring at Christine. “I’m sure you thought this would help, but…I don’t even know where to begin. How could you do this without checking with me first?”

  “Because you would’ve had a problem with it. Just like you do now. This way, it’s done. Sometimes it’s better to do something and ask forgiveness later.”

  “Forgiveness is a good word. But you’ll have to talk to Father Jensen, because if Keller kills that young woman, I won’t be able to forgive you.”

  Christine sat back. “Well, what do you know? My husband has grown a set of balls. If you’d had those a few years ago we wouldn’t have needed those embryos from John. Could’ve avoided all this hassle.”

  Ellis’s face pimpled with perspiration. “Christine, I don’t understand what’s gotten into you. You were never like this. I…I don’t know you anymore.”

  The door opened and Lira walked in. His expression was hard, his features angular, his face red as he looked at Christine. “I hope you realize what you’ve done.”

  Ellis stood up. “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t cancel it. Like she said, in contracts like this, there’s no buyer’s remorse.”

  “Let them keep the money. Tell them the Robbins woman’s not to be harmed.”

  “Really, Brandon? I didn’t think of that.” Lira rubbed his forehead. “I did my best. But they’ve got procedures in place for a reason. Once Tait gives the assignment to the operative, he may not be able to reach him until he completes the job. So right up front it’s made very clear that the order is noncancelable.”

  Christine shrugged. “Like I said.”

  “Did he even try to reach the guy?”

  “There are other reasons,” Lira said. “I couldn’t argue with him. But even if I could, he wasn’t in a listening mood.”

  Ellis rubbed the back of his neck. “So now what? Do we warn Amy Robbins?”

  “Hard enough trying to find her to get your daughter back,” Lira said. “‘How are we gonna find her to warn her? The person we’ve hired to find her is now the one who’s trying to kill her. Even if we could contact her directly, if you were her, would you believe us? I mean, how would we know someone’s trying to kill her unless we’re the ones who ordered it?”

  Christine stood up and walked toward the door. “Two men in the room and the only one with the balls to do this was the woman.”

  60

  Amy awoke before Melissa and brushed her teeth using the care kit the hospital had given her. It was only 7:30 AM, so she surmised the administrator had not arrived yet. But she would soon—and Amy would likely be her first stop.

  While Amy was washing her face, Melissa stirred. “Where am I?”

  “In the hosp
ital. Remember?”

  “Yeah,” she said, rubbing her eyes with two fists.

  “How’d you sleep?”

  Melissa blinked a few times and looked around the small room. “The nurse was mean. She woke me up.”

  “It’s her job to check on you. You had a concussion so they’re just being careful.”

  “What’s a con-cushion?”

  “When you hit your head, your brain gets bounced around a little bit. Like when you drop an apple and it gets a bruise. It’ll be all better in a few days.”

  Melissa’s eyes opened wide. “We have to stay here?”

  “They’ll let us leave soon. Hopefully today. Then we’ll take it easy. No jumping out of airplanes for a while.”

  “Jumping out of airplanes?” she sung. “That’s silly.”

  “Yeah, sometimes I get silly. Hey, I’ve gotta go make a phone call. Can you wait here for a few minutes by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

  Upon leaving the room, Amy scoped out the vicinity. She saw only a handful of people milling about—nurses and a few technicians. Quiet morning in the emergency department. She notified the security guard that she was stepping out for a few minutes, and he assured her everything would be fine.

  Amy made her way over to the same pay phone she had used yesterday and dialed the burner number Loren had given her.

  “Hey sis.”

  “How are you?”

  “Tired but fine.”

  “And Melissa?”

  “She just woke up. Doctor hasn’t been by yet. But I’m going to have to answer to the hospital’s office manager. I put bogus info on my intake paperwork but I’m sure they’re gonna want some kind of insurance information.”

  “There’s no good way out of that one. But it may be moot. You’ve gotta get out of there.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I assume you used your credit or bank card for gas or a hotel?”

  “Motel. And yeah, for gas, too. I didn’t have much cash—”

  “The Bureau can track your electronic transactions and as soon as they get the warrant—which they may already have—they’re going to zero in on your location.”

  Amy glanced around the coffee shop. People were beginning to file in to get their breakfast java and muffins. “I can’t leave if it’s not safe for Melissa.”

  Loren was silent.

  “Some things are more important than ourselves.”

  “Amy, you could be arrested. In an hour, two, three…I just have no idea. They’ll coordinate with the local police, who’ll put out an APB. And an amber alert. I’m surprised they haven’t issued one already. Once that happens, all eyes and ears, traffic cams, and surveillance cameras will be looking for you.”

  Amy squeezed her right eye closed, trying to still the twitch. “I understand the risks.”

  “And if they find out about the incident downtown at the farmers market, it’ll take them seconds to draw the line between that and the woman and young girl at—where are you?”

  “SLO Medical Center. And let me ask you this. If you were in here and Devin or Daniel had a head injury, would you check him out of the hospital against doctor’s orders?”

  “No.”

  “Well this is my daughter and I won’t jeopardize her life. I’d do anything for her, just like you would for your boys. If I get arrested, then so be it. Like I said, maybe that’s what I deserve anyway.”

  “I’m just worried about you. Which is why I’m on my way there. I should be in SLO in about three hours.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything. Anything.”

  “But I don’t want you to—”

  “That point you just made about Devin? Well that’s how I feel about you. Family comes first. I lose my job, I’ll be upset. But financially we’ll be fine.”

  “And if you’re thrown in jail?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then: “You’d better get back to Melissa. Are you using the same name at the hospital?”

  “Yes. Ada and Elissa Robinson.”

  “See you soon, Ada. Remember what I said. And watch your back.”

  61

  Jimmy Hill hung up the phone and called to Special Agent Tran Minh two cubicles over from his. “Yo, Tran. We got us a problem. Conference room.”

  “Mountain know?”

  “He’s in San Francisco today.”

  Mountain was their nickname for Child Crimes Squad Supervisor Zeke Bailey, a six-foot-four college lineman-turned-FBI agent after a compound leg fracture prematurely ended his NFL career.

  Minh set his phone down and followed. They walked through the maze of hallways and entered the large rectangular conference room. A long table with padded leatherette seats dominated the space. An oversize flat panel was mounted on the far wall, with a robust camera system on the right designed to work with the secure video teleconference system.

  Hill grabbed the remote—and quickly set it down. “Wrong freakin’ one. Like my house. Five clickers and I never know which to use. All I wanna do is turn on the damn TV and veg on the couch.” He pressed a button and the system booted up. They took seats and within seconds two men and a woman were staring back at him: Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco Field Division Bennett Jackson, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Dahlia Scott, and squad supervisor Bailey. For some reason, putting Mountain on a television screen, even if he was only a dozen miles away across the bay, made him seem less threatening.

  “Sir,” Hill said, “I found some disturbing information on the Melissa Ellis case. The abductor, Amy Robbins, is related to one of our agents.”

  “Which one?” Jackson asked.

  “Loren Ryder. Her sister-in-law.”

  “And where’s Loren? Why isn’t she on this call?”

  Hill looked down. “First, this isn’t her case. Far as I know, she has no clue about the two women who reported the girl missing.”

  Jackson spread his hands. “That’s assuming her sister-in-law didn’t tell her.”

  “Assuming that,” Hill said. “However, Loren didn’t come into the office this morning. She left me a voice mail telling me she was heading down to Monterey to interview a couple of witnesses on the Wyatt case.”

  “Did you call her?” Bailey asked.

  “I did.” Hill bit his bottom lip. “Went straight to voice mail.”

  Scott and Bailey shared a look of concern.

  “Do we have reason to believe Loren is involved in this abduction in any way?” Bailey asked.

  “No sir. But I haven’t had any time to look into it. I just found this out ten minutes before I messaged you.”

  “Okay,” Jackson said. “If you don’t hear from her by midafternoon, use all necessary measures to find her. Put out a BOLO with local PD and CHP. I want to take her at her word—we all do—but we also have to keep our eyes open in case she’s involved in this abduction. So just because she told you she was headed to Monterey doesn’t mean she is.”

  “Of course,” Hill said. “But I can’t imagine Loren having anything to do with this.”

  “Me either,” Minh said.

  “I hear you.” Jackson looked over at Scott and Bailey, who both nodded. “We agree. But at the same time, we don’t want to get caught up in an OPR inquiry a month from now answering tough questions as to why we didn’t take appropriate action,” he said, referring to the Office of Professional Responsibility—the Bureau’s internal police.

  “I’ll be back in the office in an hour,” Bailey said, “in case anything breaks.”

  They covered some additional details, then signed off and Hill and Minh returned to their desks.

  “I’m gonna be real pissed if
Loren’s wrapped up in this,” Hill said, stopping in front of his chair. “Do you think she heard me talking about the case? Heard her sister-in-law’s name and…”

  “And what?”

  “I don’t know. Went to warn her?”

  Minh thought a moment. “Find Loren and we may find her sister-in-law and Melissa Ellis.”

  “Okay, here’s the plan. Draw up an affidavit for the warrant. If we need to search her house or car, I don’t want to lose any time. Then take Mr. Ryder’s finances and phone records. I’ll dig through Loren’s desk and dive deeper if we don’t hear back from her.”

  “This sucks,” Minh said.

  Hill stepped across the “aisle” to Ryder’s cubicle. “I feel dirty. Like I’m looking through my wife’s phone, emails, photos. You know?”

  “Hope she’s innocent. And I hope she understands why we’re doing what we’re doing.”

  “She’ll understand,” Hill said. “But she still won’t like it. Not one bit.”

  62

  As Loren approached Soledad, she began doubting her decision to leave Oakland without stopping by the office. It was not a question of if the Bureau discovered the connection to Amy, but when. Because of its inevitability, she felt it was smarter to leave before they detained her. Once they did that, they would question her for a prolonged period, then monitor all her communications, movements, and case work.

  She would have to ditch the burner because having it on her would immediately raise suspicion that she was doing something that was not above board.

  The more she parsed it, she figured they could also take a different approach: absent convincing evidence of collusion, they would treat her as a colleague helping them make sense of something that appears—on the surface—disconcerting.

  They would question her first, without telling her why, and once they had her answers and time lines and whereabouts locked in, they would explain why they were asking.

  When Loren then expressed surprise at Amy’s rogue behavior, absent any direct evidence of contact between them, they would surreptitiously monitor her, hoping Amy would call, text, or email her.