“Yes. And mobile. Pacing indicates that travel is on foot.” The directness of the man spoke to his awareness of his role. A relay of information. Nothing more.
“Send me the link. Updates to me only until I locate the package,” Cain said.
He stood and drained the last remaining drops from his iced coffee. He left the payment on the table. The cash under his now empty cup flapped in the mid-afternoon breeze as he walked away from the bistro toward his silver Range Rover.
Chapter 20
The vibration alert in his pocket distracted him from the conversation with Jones. Nick pulled out his cell and stared at the incoming call. Jones was still talking in the background, postulating his theory on where the girl may have gone. Nick stopped listening. Atypical behavior, but the caller had completely derailed his train of thought.
“Are you still here?” Jones chided.
“Yeah. Sorry,” Nick answered, as if coming out of a trance.
“Take it if you need. No hurt feelings here,” Jones said.
“No. I’ll let it go to voicemail.” Nick felt like he needed to add something more in the way of an explanation. “Just a blast from the past.”
“Well, thank God all my exes live in Texas,” Jones said, laughing.
“Not an ex. Well, not really. My former partner,” Nick said.
He stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that the more he said the crazier he sounded. It didn’t help that his cheeks were starting to flush.
“Well, don’t get all embarrassed on my account.”
Like blood in the water, the heavyset investigator took this opportunity to rib his colleague.
“You’re really loving this,” Nick said. He smiled, lowered his head and conceded defeat. “Don’t worry. At some point, I will fill you in on all the interesting details of my personal life.”
“I can’t wait.” Jones laughed, giving Nick a playful rap on the back.
“So, back to the girl. Car?” Nick asked.
“That’d be my guess. Maybe she flagged someone down. The bus stop is down the street, but the track didn’t seem to go in that direction,” Jones said.
“Let’s head back to see if we can get some more from Anaya,” Nick said.
“Sounds like a plan. She sent me a text and is back at her office. Also, I checked in with the boss and it doesn’t seem like any of the girls from the motel are ready to talk,” Jones said.
Nick nodded. He noticed that Jones sounded proud to make the claim that Anaya Patel had sent him a text message.
Jones continued waxing poetic. “Anaya’s really good at her job. I’ve worked with her before. I’ve reached out to her for assistance on these types of cases. She’s got a real knack for ‘em.”
“Is there more to this endorsement than job skills?” Nick asked with a hint of playfulness.
This was the second time Jones had acted out of character at the mention of Anaya. Maybe there was something more to the friendship between the detective and the social worker. Nick seized the opportunity to interrogate the other man. It was the least he could do after the innuendoes Jones showered him with after he ignored Izzy’s call.
“Very funny! Don’t be trying to use your legendary powers of observation on me,” Jones said.
Now, with the roles reversed, it was Jones’s cheeks that reddened. Nick smiled at his small victory.
Anaya Patel’s office was cool and smelled of lavender. She had an oil diffuser and the small tea light warmed the white ceramic bowl suspended above, casting the fragrance into the air. It added to the comfort of the room. Nick assumed the victims and families she met here were probably put at ease by the simple ambiance. Nick found it strange that the most recent visitor was so quick to leave.
“No luck?” Anaya said.
She nervously drummed her fingertips on the open file on her desk. Her eyes tightened in hopeful anticipation. There was genuine concern in her voice.
“I wish we had something more. As of right now, she’s in the wind,” Jones said.
“Maybe we’ll locate a surveillance camera in the area that caught her getting into a vehicle. Fingers crossed we might get lucky and be able to grab a make and model of the car. If luck is really on our side, then we’ll get a license plate,” Nick said, trying to reassure that more efforts were going to be made.
“I put a broadcast out to patrol. Units have her physical description. I’ve already sent the still shot of her from the 7-11 to command so officers will have the digital image to assist in identifying her. Public Affairs will create a media broadcast to run on this evening’s news,” Jones injected.
“I wish there was more that I could do,” Anaya said, sitting behind her small, tidy desk as her nervous ritual of tapping her fingers on a notepad in front of her began anew.
“So, no name? No idea where she came from? And no idea where she was going?” Nick asked.
“No. Well, she did tell me her name. Or at least what she goes by,” Anaya said.
She pursed her lips, making a face that was somewhere between a smile and frown.
Anaya then added, “Mouse. She told me to call her Mouse.”
Chapter 21
The red dot on his screen hadn’t moved in forty minutes. He was still an hour out of the city. He’d left Dallas after receiving the call. The priority of the orders caused him to end his previous task abruptly. The Hand’s work is never done, he’d thought. The Range Rover hummed quietly as he traveled south on the interstate. Cain always kept the speed within plus or minus three miles per hour of the posted limit. No need to draw unwanted attention. Blend and move. A shadow in the darkness.
The infectious words of the Pastor piped through the speakers. It was the only thing Cain listened to when inside the vehicle. He had a voluminous collection of CDs containing the preacher’s sermons. Each word was scripted to him and applied directly to his life, as if God himself had whispered these great things in his ear. It was the Pastor’s voice that had called out to him in that room years ago as a child. That room had been filled with horrors which now seemed more like an old nightmare instead of a memory. The Pastor had been his salvation from the demons. He had brought Cain into the light.
The Heathen was probably eating. Or just hiding. It did not matter. With each passing mile marker, Cain tingled with excitement in anticipation of what was to come. He relished the opportunity to serve. And the Heathen would soon pay for upsetting the Pastor. It didn’t matter the age, gender or race of the Heathen because he’d been taught that the devil can take many forms.
Once Mouse was far enough away from the site of the car crash, she found the shade of a tree and sat. The dump of adrenaline during her escape had subsided and now left her exhausted. The tough Saint Augustine grass poked at her pants as she adjusted to a more comfortable position, ensuring that no fire ant mounds were underneath.
She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins as if giving herself a hug. Mouse let her forehead rest on her knees and she closed her eyes. Sleep was not the intention, and she knew that would be a long way off. She just needed a minute to reset and clear her mind of recent events.
She had two maps that she’d purchased from the convenience store in her backpack. One was of Austin and the other was of the Continental United States. She pulled the latter one out and spread it across the dry grass.
Slightly refreshed by her respite in the shade, she navigated her fingers around the map’s surface, finding Texas and then isolating Austin. It was an overwhelming network of roads leading in and out of the state’s capital. A bigger city than she’d expected. Easy to get lost in.
She straightened her back and then slowly shifted her head from side to side. The tension of the crash caused her muscles to ache. It would only worsen as time passed. With her neck cocked to one side, something caught her eye in the near distance. She examined the sign and immediately knew her next move.
The emergency vehicles working the crash scene were close e
nough that the whine of their sirens floated in the heavy mid-morning air. People would be looking for her. Some of those people would want to hurt her. Others would want to send her back. Both options were unacceptable. Forward was the only way. A promise to her mother to keep.
A Greyhound Bus depot was just beyond where she sat. The billboard advertisement rising high above the low trees pitched cheap fares to destinations anywhere across the country. Mouse had a little over four hundred and fifty dollars now. She no longer had the knife. The nice lady with the office bed had taken that from her during her short visit. That knife had served its purpose but also carried with it the terrible memory of the old man’s death. She was glad to be rid of the tainted blade. It didn’t matter anyway, now that she had the driver’s gun tucked at the bottom of her backpack.
A weapon is only as deadly as the person who holds it. Her father’s words, strange but true.
Mouse’s finger slowly drifted up the large unfolded map of the United States. She moved away from Austin and stopped when it hit the blue water of the Michigan lakes. She wanted to start her new life far away from where this journey began. And she liked water.
Some of her only memories of her father that didn’t include his challenging survival training were those of the fishing trips they took together. He was a different man when the two would sit along the bank of the Rio Grande. It was the only time she recalled seeing him smile. Maybe he’s smiling now at seeing the result of all his hard lessons?
She looked around the lake area, scanning the map for the right destination. Her father had taught her how to read a map, using the legend and scale to interpret the details. He explained that the size of the letters on a map indicated the population and size of the city. She wanted to find one that was not too big and not too small. Just like Goldilocks, it had to be just right. Her finger stopped. Pidgeon, Michigan. Funny to name a place after a bird. It sounded like a good enough place for her to begin her new life.
Content with her decision, she reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water and an apple. The slight bruising on the red fruit’s exterior caused by the turbulent crash did little to slow her consumption. She ravenously devoured it. The fruit’s juice trickled down the little girl’s chin.
To an onlooker, she appeared to be any other kid, but Mouse was anything but ordinary.
Chapter 22
“I don’t know about this. Don’t seem right,” the grizzled man said, slurring as he spoke.
His breath, a potent combination of cigarettes and booze, filled the air around his face. In the heaviness of the day’s heat, the stench enveloped him like a blanket.
“Please. My grandmother is dying, and I need to get home to see her,” Mouse said.
Her voice sweetened, giving a softness that made her seem younger and more innocent than she was. Her eyes pleaded into the man’s bloodshot stare. The jaundiced coloring of the man’s skin gave him a sickly look. The cruelties of his addiction evident.
“Hmmm. How’m I gonna know you ain’t runnin’ away. Con-terr-abootin’ to a minor’s de-linq-uency is bad.” The man’s limited education was readily apparent to the girl. His intoxication added to his dimwittedness.
“I wrote down on this slip of paper where I need to go. Find out how much and I’ll give you that plus a twenty for your trouble,” Mouse said.
A twinkle showed in the man’s eyes at the prospect of the money. And she had a pretty good guess what he would spend it on.
He greedily took the slip of paper from the girl and walked slowly into the bus station ticketing area, stumbling only once on the lip of the curb. The drunken man was doing his best impression of a sober person. A tough role for him to play, but as far as bum actors go, he’d be in the running for an Oscar.
Mouse stood out of view from the glass doors of the ticket office. She bit the inside of her lip. A nervous habit that had become more frequent in recent months. She didn’t want anyone to see her exchange with the homeless man. Using him as her go-between had its potential for failure. She released the pressure on her lip when he returned a few minutes later.
“It’s gonna be hundered-sixy-one dullars. But ain’t gonna getcha as fur as ya want. Some place called Sag-in-naw,” the man said, smiling awkwardly at his success. The gesture displayed the gaps in between his few remaining stained teeth.
Mouse stepped back from the man and pulled out her map. It took her a moment of searching before she found Saginaw. Close enough. She’d figure a way to get to the water, to Pidgeon, once she was there. She returned the map to the pack’s interior.
“Deal,” Mouse said, turning away from the man as she reached into the zipper pocket.
She didn’t want him to see the wad of money. Or the black handgun resting at the bottom. Her hand pressed out toward the man. He took the cash and looked back at her.
“I put a little extra just in case. You can keep whatever bit of change is left over. I will give you your twenty when you come back,” Mouse said, assertively.
The man’s filthy fingers rubbed the bills together, calculating its value. Mouse could tell it had been a long time since this man had held so much. She worried that the man would try to run off with the cash, but she had a keen eye for people and saw some good in him. He didn’t want to initially help because he thought he might be contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Bad people don’t worry about stuff like that. And in a worst-case scenario, if she’d read him wrong, then it would be his loss. She would have no difficulty running him down and retrieving what was hers.
The man walked away with the crumpled cash in his right hand and disappeared into the station again. He moved a little faster this time. The pep in his step at the prospect of having twenty dollars in his pocket proved to be all the motivation he needed.
The money was replaced by the white gleam reflecting off the ticketing paperwork. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the man walked with a limp. He leaned to one side as he swiveled his hip forward with each step of his return. The movement was more pronounced due to the unbalance created by his intoxication. Mouse already had palmed the twenty-dollar bill. The exchange would be quick.
“I hope your gramma is okay,” the man said as he swapped the tickets for his wage.
“Umm. Yeah. Thanks.” Mouse glanced at the paperwork in her hand.
She walked away from the man. It took a few minutes to rid herself of the man’s odor. His stink had permeated her clothes. The breeze helped to wick away its remnants.
Mouse went back to her tree. Her temporary shelter. She sat and closely evaluated the itinerary. Damn. The bus didn’t leave until tomorrow morning at 4:30 am. She’d need to find a place for the night. The Holiday Inn located directly across the street from the bus depot would work. A lot better than under a tree.
“What did he say? No shit? Keep him there. I’m on the way,” Jones said.
He was animated, grabbing at his notepad and stuffing a couple pens into his breast pocket.
“What’ve we got?” Nick asked, startled by the detective’s sudden burst of energy.
“Patrol’s working a crash on I-35. A witness said there was a girl in the car. She disappeared before units arrived on scene,” Jones said, speaking in rapid-fire succession.
“Disappeared?” Anaya chimed in, grabbing a file from the top of her desk and slipping it under her arm. “Is it her?”
“Not sure. She’s nowhere to be found.” Concern laced every work Jones spoke. “They’re keeping the witness on location for us. I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Let’s move,” Nick said, already in stride for the door.
All in good time. Patience is the virtue that yields the biggest promise. Words from the Pastor. Teachings from the Master. He was closing in on the area of the red dot. The screen mapping his trip zoomed in as he lessened his position to within ten miles of the blip. Cain manipulated the map further with his fingers, trying to get his bearings. He hated technology. But the Pastor
told him it was necessary and so he used it.
The Heathen was somewhere just off the interstate. He knew better than to drive directly to that location. He would find a place nearby and approach on foot. Best to observe before acting. From the information provided thus far, it appeared that the Heathen had managed to escape twice. Cain would not allow the same to happen to him. I’m the Right Hand. I carry God’s sword. And when directed, I swing it hard upon His enemy.
In the background, the Pastor ranted about the injustice of man’s indignation toward the will of God. His words kissed the ears of Cain and soothed his bubbling anguish. He longed to see the praise in the Pastor’s eyes after he completed the task. It was all the reward he needed. It was the only fuel that fed his soul.
Chapter 23
“Show me exactly where she was last standing,” Jones said.
He was terser and his normally laidback mannerisms were gone. His worry for the girl’s well-being was spilling over. This is how so many cops lost the balance between the job and life. And right now, Jones could think of nothing else except finding this missing girl.
Anaya listened to the description given by the man in the Hawaiian shirt and was convinced that the girl from the crash was Mouse. She nervously scanned the area, hoping to spot her.
“Here. Right here,” the man said, using his arms to show the area where the girl last stood. He resembled an airline stewardess directing passengers to the emergency exits.
“This must be your guy. Got a county car pulling up now,” Nick called out, over the noise of the emergency crews.
“Damn, you’re fast,” Jones said, as Rusty Harrison stepped out of his Crown Victoria. He was wearing olive drab fatigue pants and a light tan t-shirt.
“I told you I live close and would be ready for your call,” Rusty said, smiling at the opportunity to help.
“All right then. Let me give you the rundown,” Jones said, throwing in a little twang to punctuate the sentence. “She was in that mangled sedan and then was last seen standing over there.”
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