by James, Ed
He passes Ky back to me. “Okay, Cole’s mostly fine.”
My heart goes crazy again and it’s like there’s something stuck in my throat. I lean in close and kiss his perfect little forehead. “But?”
“Are you vegan, Kaitlyn?”
“What? Vegan? No.”
“Okay, but you’re breastfeeding him, right?”
“Right. I mean, I’ve tried, but it’s been a struggle.”
Mom pours a fresh cup of coffee for herself. “Your diet was always terrible.”
“Wonder who I inherited that from. I’ve had to use branded baby formula from time to time.”
“That’s it, then.” Duke drums his thumbs on the table. “I’ve seen this before. He’s got dairy intolerance.”
“Like an allergy?”
“Similar, but not the same thing. An intolerance can go away by the time he’s three or four. It can stick around, of course. Allergies are much worse, but intolerances aren’t any fun. Given you’re breastfeeding, you need to cut dairy out of your diet.”
“What about eggs?”
“Eggs aren’t dairy.” Duke smiles. “Anything made from cow milk. So cheese, cream, yogurt, butter.”
“Okay. Makes sense.”
“Ewe milk and goat milk have much lower lactose, and you can get lactose-free cow milk in Trader Joe’s. Cole here needs a hypoallergenic formula until you’ve gone a couple days without dairy.” Duke looks over at Mom. “Beverley, you mind heading out to the pharmacy?”
“Duke, I was just out…”
“I know, but this is important. Can’t remember the brand, but it comes in a short tub. Custard-colored. Green text. They’ve got it in Walgreens, might have it in Safeway.”
I take Ky and hug him a little bit tighter.
“When he’s a bit older, maybe a year, well…” Something passes in his eyes, like Duke knows he won’t be around then. “Try him with some cow’s milk and see how it goes. There’s no signs we’re dealing with anything dangerous here, but his poor little brain can’t process what’s happening. Again, he’ll likely grow out of it, but keep an eye on it, you hear?”
“I hear ya.”
“Thanks, Doctor.” Mom’s standing by the door already. “Come on, Kaitlyn, let’s get to the pharmacy.”
Forty-Eight
CHASE
09:00
Chase knocked on the door and waited. Halfway down a long corridor. Cream walls with artful red graffiti motifs, like the university was all hip.
He got out his cell and tried Layla again. No response. Again.
This was such a long shot. But it was all he had.
Kaitlyn… Goddamn it, he should’ve turned her over to the feds, but instead he got Layla to help her. Just to watch Landon and Jennifer suffer that little bit more.
But now that Zangiev was on to her, his whole plan was broken. What Edwards had said, that he’d been looking for leverage against Landon. Now that Zangiev knew who she was, who she’d taken from Landon, he’d try to regain that leverage and get Landon to do whatever the hell he was hiding from Chase.
He needed to find her. And quick.
The door opened to a crack. An eye peered out—brown iris, olive skin. Not Kaitlyn.
Chase breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t that dumb. “Looking for Kaitlyn. You seen her recently?”
“She in some kinda trouble?”
“She split and her folks are going out of their minds. I’m a PI, trying to track her down. So, you seen her?”
“Not today.”
Chase gave a flash of his most charming smile. “What’s your name?”
“Gabi.” The door opened wide. Lot of Hispanic in her, probably second- or third-generation Mexican. And heavily pregnant. Seven or eight months to Chase’s untrained eye.
Chase took in the room. A yellow tape line ran down the middle, split in half like that Batman character who was a good guy ex-DA on one side, an acid-scarred villain on the other. “She called or texted you?”
“Not since Sunday, come to think of it.” Gabi hefted her weight down on her unmade bed. Her side was all chaos. Books and folders and notepads scattered all over the floor. Clothes everywhere. “She hasn’t been here for a while. Staying somewhere else.”
“She drop out?”
“Kinda.” Gabi pointed at the other half. “That’s her stuff still over there. Nobody’s moved in, and I keep putting them off dumping her stuff in the trash.”
Kaitlyn’s half was super clean. Her bed was stripped, the cupboard bare. The same desk as on Gabi’s side, just not hidden under a mountain of bras, skirts, and tees. A stack of notebooks on the left, pens and laptop in the middle, textbooks on the right. Pristine.
Chase crossed over. An iPhone sat there, showed 40 percent charge, meaning she might’ve been here recently to leave it. The laptop was locked with a password. Great. He started sifting through the pile of stuff on Kaitlyn’s desk. A stack of mail sat on top of the notebooks. That was promising. He sifted through and stopped at a letter.
Kaitlyn’s college admission from the previous summer. Gave a home address in Bremerton, WA. Thirteenth Street. He had no idea where Bremerton even was. Something about a ferry, maybe, but that could just be his brain jerking him around.
“You know her folks?”
“She never talked about them. I tried to ask her, but…”
Chase smiled at her. “She’s not much of a sharer, right?”
“Tell me about it. I’m the complete opposite.”
Outside, a black Suburban crawled across the parking lot.
The FBI!
Forty-Nine
CARTER
09:05
The campus cop shuffled along the corridor ahead of Carter and Elisha. An old guy, clearly losing control of this block of student accommodation. “College students…” Looked like they’d beaten him down. “Maybe the worst are in frat houses, but this lot… It’s a struggle.” And one he seemed resigned to losing. He stopped in the corridor and knocked on the door. “Anyone in?” He waited a few seconds. “Ma’am?” Still nothing, so he took out a keycard, like they were in some fancy hotel. He pressed the card against the reader and opened the door to a crack. “Hello?”
No sounds. No music, no TV, nobody escaping out the window. Second floor, so a possibility, but if Kaitlyn had a baby in there, extremely unlikely.
The campus cop held the door for Carter. “Fill your boots, guys.”
Carter stepped in, leaving Elisha out in the corridor. Two beds, pushed as far away from each other as possible. A line of yellow tape split the room in half. Posters of soccer players and pop stars on the messier left side, bare walls on the other. Hard to tell which side was Kaitlyn’s. A bathroom door to the right.
Elisha crouched and snapped on a glove, squinting at a letter on the floor. “Who is Gabriella Rodriguez?”
The campus cop was still out in the corridor, thumbs on his belt. “Ms. Presswood’s roommate.”
Elisha joined Carter on the right side of the room. “This is Kaitlyn’s side.”
Carter was slightly relieved. The other side was the sort of chaos that’d take hours to sift through. Then again, Kaitlyn’s half just didn’t have anything in it. A desk with some papers and a big space where you’d expect to find a laptop.
The campus cop was in the room now. “She paid for the year in advance, but I think she quit in the summer. They didn’t let out her room, so we haven’t tossed her stuff yet.”
“This is her second year, right?”
“Think so. I’d have to check.”
“You know her?”
“Sure. Dude, most of my time here isn’t doing anything other than acting as a deterrent. I chat with the students, get to know them. Helps for when I have to do something more than act as a deterrent. I can spot a troublemaker a mile off.”
“Which was she?”
“Used to be a good kid. Super friendly and helpful, could tell she’d been raised right. But then I was out getting my knee
fixed up. Old football injury. I saw her last week, and she was acting hella weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Distant.”
Bringing a child to term only to give him up would do that to someone.
“You any idea where her roommate is?”
“No idea.”
“Any way you can check she’s not at class?”
“Girl like her, she’s not so mobile.”
Carter looked over. “What do you mean by that?”
“She’s pregnant.”
“Possible they’re both surrogates.” Carter saw the same logic clicking through Elisha’s brain too. “Find her for me, would you?”
“Will do.” Elisha led the campus cop outside.
Alone, Carter started scouring through Kaitlyn’s stuff, taking it nice and slow. Methodical. But his brain kept whirring through the story. He could see it all mapped out now—two desperate students faced with a lifetime of debt, and one of them saw a way out.
Having kids for desperate people who could pay. Now that it was legal, it must’ve made perfect sense. But the reality had hit Kaitlyn like a truck. Hard to not feel some sympathy for her plight, but her actions…?
Carter completed his search. Futile, but the pile of opened mail wasn’t as pristine as the rest of her room. The bare bed, the organized closet, the stack of notebooks…
Had someone already been here?
Someone else hunting her?
Carter heard a noise, like a cat squealing. No pets allowed. Sounded like it came from the bathroom. He stepped over and opened the door wide.
Someone cowered in the white bathtub. Carter got a flash of dark hair, pale skin, bathrobe.
He averted his gaze. “Hey, my name’s Max.” He held out his badge. “I’m a federal agent. Are you okay?”
She squealed. That trapped cat sound from earlier.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Are you a student?”
“Name’s Gabi.”
“Okay, Gabi. I need to find Kaitlyn. I can see how frightened you are. I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Just need to ask a few questions. I’ll be through there. That cool?”
“Okay.”
Carter went back to the bedroom, but stayed close to the bathroom. He left the hallway door open, and faced away from the bathroom. “You and Kaitlyn get on well?”
No reply.
His cell started ringing. He checked the display. Elisha. “Gabi, I need to take a call, okay?”
Sounded like she was moving around in there. “Okay.”
Carter answered it. “What’s up?”
“Max, the campus cop found Kaitlyn’s roommate.”
“Gabi?” Carter swallowed. He turned slowly. So who was in the bathroom?
“Shall I send her up?”
“Do that.”
“Be there in a minute. She’s at least eight months gone.”
Carter kept his cell to his ear, even though Elisha was gone, and nudged the door open wider. “Uh huh. Sure.”
The bathroom was empty. Nobody in the tub.
Something cracked off his skull and he stumbled forward, catching his shoulder on the edge of the bathtub and sprawling across the hard tiles.
Footsteps raced away. Something clattered.
“FBI!” Carter couldn’t push himself up. “STOP!” His shoulder burned just like he’d been shot again, just like back in Iraq. He could hear perfectly, so no gunshot. He rolled over and saw the weapon. A laptop, with a huge dent in the aluminum. Must’ve hit him edge on, cut him like an ax.
He fumbled his phone and had to pick it up again. He hit dial and managed to stick it on speaker as he lay there.
“Max? You okay?”
“Elisha, someone was in the bathroom. A woman. Pretending to be Gabi. Find her.”
“Right. Like finding a woman in a student dorm is easy…” And she was gone.
Carter hauled himself up to standing. A bruise was already forming at the back of his skull. He managed to get over to the window. Across the parking lot, his Suburban gleamed in the cold morning sunshine.
A Toyota was racing away.
He couldn’t get a read on the plates.
* * *
09:15
In the security station, Carter took two Tylenol and swallowed them down with cold water from the fountain. “You getting anything?”
“You ask me, that there’s a professional.” The campus cop was sitting at a computer monitoring station, his giant screen showing a split view of the parking lot. The Toyota was frozen mid-frame. A Camry, the sedan model. And the license plate was blurry, like it’d been photoshopped. “You get this spray offa the internet. Used to see it all the time in my cop days.”
“Seattle PD?”
“Got my twenty and escaped with my health and a chunk of my sanity. This pay here’s not much worse, but you can’t put a price on mental wellbeing. Lot of guys take on a campus cop job like this, it’s some ex-trucker living out his authority fantasies. Me, I wanted a life where I didn’t have to deal with dead bodies every week.”
Carter nodded like he was interested in the story. The video showed a dead end, very few ways to progress. “You got any other cameras?”
“Same story.” The guy shifted the view to the street outside, but it showed the same image. A Toyota Camry riding off into the sunset, without a trace. It looked like nobody was driving the car. Same spray must be on the windshield too.
The campus cop was on to something, though. Someone who did that to their plates in a city knew what they were doing. Even in this country, there were still surveillance cameras. One would pick them up if they drove it too often, meaning it was reserved for special operations. It all added up to a pro hunting for Kaitlyn.
The way the parents had kept their secrets, had hired PI firms to vet everyone… Could they pay someone to do a clandestine hunt?
Carter stood up, and a searing jab of pain bit into his shoulder. “Some of my agents will be here to dig into this, okay? Need you to afford them all the help you’ve given to myself and Agent Thompson.”
“Don’t mention it, bud. Happy to still be of service.”
Carter left him to his screen. Out in the corridor, a couple of his agents approached. Wilkins and Chang. He pointed into the security room, then went next door into a work break room. Couches, tables, vending machines, and a heavily stained microwave.
Kaitlyn’s roommate sat on a couch. Gabi—the real Gabi—was maybe twenty years old, but with the air of someone a lot older. And a minimum of eight months pregnant.
No sign of Elisha, though.
Carter pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “Gabi, is it?”
“Uh huh.”
“Listen, someone was in your room, pretending to be you. You any idea who that was?”
“I have no idea. I was doing laundry.” She seemed antsy, twitching and fizzing with energy. “I need to get back to it. Shit goes missing if you don’t sit with it.”
“I get that. Just a few more questions.” Carter leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Where’s my colleague?”
“Said she was going to check the room again.”
“You know what Kaitlyn’s done?”
“Know what you think she’s done, anyway.”
“Is your baby a surrogate?”
“How dare you ask me that?”
“Are you denying it?”
Gabi nibbled her bottom lip.
“See, I think you got Kaitlyn into the surrogacy thing. Maybe the other way around. Either way, it helps you pay your way through college. Right?”
“Look, Kaitlyn banked a good chunk of cash for popping out that kid. Enough to clear her tuition fees and change.” Gabi patted her swollen belly. “This’ll be my second.”
“And Kaitlyn?”
“That’s her first. She was desperate, man. Ran out of cash, worked like three jobs. In a bar, drove an Uber, had a gig stuffing envelopes here for below minimum wage. Then she dropped out, moved out, but nobo
dy’s sublet her room, so her stuff’s all there. Told your woman, Kaitlyn came here yesterday. Left her cell phone.”
“Her cell phone?”
“Sure. Who leaves an iPhone behind? Means I couldn’t call her and tell her about it. That PI seemed mighty interested?”
“What PI?”
“Big guy. Older. Kinda cute. Said her parents had hired him.”
Carter groaned. Another thing to talk to David Karevoll about.
Elisha came into the room and beckoned Carter over.
“Just be a second.” Carter joined Elisha by the door, angling his body so he could keep an eye on Gabi, not that she was waddling anywhere in a hurry. “What’s up?”
“Found a bag in her closet.” Elisha held up a tote bag advertising the Bellevue farmers’ market. “Three checks, all made out to Kaitlyn Presswood.” Her gloved fingers sifted through them. “Fifty grand and two for four hundred bucks. Here’s the contract with the surrogacy agency.” She passed it over.
Someone had scribbled NO WAY in red Sharpie. Presumably Kaitlyn.
Carter felt a twinge in his shoulder as his hopes sagged out of him. “Worth speaking to the agency?”
“Place called Helping Hand.” Elisha smirked at him. “Got an address in downtown Tacoma.”
* * *
10:05
Helping Hand was more like an upmarket hair salon or a tech store. Fish tanks and cucumber water on tap. Stripped brick walls like a Brooklyn loft, even though the building couldn’t have been more than five years old at most.
“I’ve been here three years.” Kim Harwick led them into her office, the door marked CEO. She wore a pants suit, gray, with a lime-green blouse. She gestured for them to sit, her designer glasses catching the reflected light from the bare bulb hanging low. “My background is in HR and running employment agencies. Surrogacy has the potential to be a large industry in this state, so this was an opportunity to move into a growth market with huge potential.”
“And Kaitlyn Presswood is definitely one of your clients?”