Cory's Shift

by Dan Petrosini

  “Are you frigging kidding me? My daughter was walking home and vanished. What do you think, she beamed herself up to some alien ship?”

  Knox remained silent and Cory said, “You’re handling the transplant ring, right?”

  “Yes, I’m leading the investigation.”

  “They got my daughter.”

  “What evidence do you have?”

  “They threatened me, and then they took my son. What the hell more do you want? Storm wherever they work out of and save Ava.”

  “We’re moving as quickly as the law allows. We can’t go barging in without evidence.”

  “What exactly are you doing to find her?”

  “We’re working across agencies to determine the scope of and any illegalities of the purported ring.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It’s early, but we believe there is an international component—”

  “You should’ve asked me. The Chinese are behind this, right?”

  “I can’t confirm that at this point.”

  “What the hell can you confirm?”

  “That we’re working with the DEA—”

  “The drug agency? What do they have to do with this?”

  “If in fact they are performing organ transplants, the drugs used to both anesthetize and prevent rejection had to originate somewhere.”

  “You’re going after illegal medicines?”

  “It may sound like a disconnect, but ultimately it may be easier to interrupt their scheme by identifying and shutting down the supply of these drugs.”

  “I get it, and it’s a good idea, but how is that going to get my daughter home? Drug cases take too long.”

  “Every effective investigation requires an investment in time. Bulletproof evidence, especially when dealing with sophisticated rings, must be developed.”

  “What about my daughter?”

  “As I stated, NYPD is leading that case. We’re involved, but on a periphery basis.”

  “Why can’t the FBI get involved? You’re supposed to be the best. You got resources nobody has.”

  “We’re examining everything we have on this group. Rest assured, if we find a connection, we’ll move on it.”

  “I can’t rest. If I’ve got to find my daughter on my own, I will.”

  “You don’t need to, Mr. Lupinski.”

  “Well, it sure as hell feels like it. Goodbye, Miss Knox.”

  Cory hung up. What was he going to tell Linda? That Ava was caught in some jurisdictional mess? He thought over what Knox had said about the drug angle. It made sense but didn’t help.

  The thought that building a case against the gang was more important to the FBI than getting Ava home safely hit him. Hard.

  It was crazy, but it was something the authorities did all the time. They’d let criminals go to pursue the top dogs. There was no way he was going to let his daughter become collateral damage.

  The problem was he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he’d hold another press conference. They needed help from the public, and that was the quickest way.

  All they needed was one good tip. Then the nightmare would be over. It’d been three tortuous days since she vanished. As Linda swung open the door, Cory was hit with the realization that with each passing day, the odds of her returning alive lessened.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cory’s feet were sore. He’d walked from Prospect Park to Marine Park. He should’ve taken an Uber but wouldn’t give up the chance of randomly seeing Ava.

  He cut down Kings Highway and saw a girl with the same build and hair color as Ava. She was alone. Cory crossed the street, jogging toward her. “Ava? Is that you? Ava!”

  The girl looked over her shoulder and began running. Cory stopped; it wasn’t Ava. Cory continued walking on Kings Highway and made a right onto Coney Island Avenue.

  The street’s name reminded him of taking Ava to the historic amusement park. He could see her squeezing the pole as she rode a pink pony on the merry-go-round.

  Approaching Avenue M, Cory’s phone rang. He hoped it would be Ava. It wasn’t. Mr. Black was calling.

  * * *

  Red Hook, one of Brooklyn’s oldest neighborhoods, was bustling. The gentrification of the shipping yards and waterfront had transformed the area.

  Cory walked toward the water, passing small restaurants, edgy bars, and an art gallery. He saw Black standing in a Court Street doorway. Black was talking to someone that a casting director would put in a gangster movie.

  Black jerked his head toward the water, patted his companion on the shoulder, and joined Cory.

  “You know where my daughter is?”

  “No.”

  “Damn. What do you have?”

  “Given the situation, I wanted to update you.”

  It wasn’t like Black to be considerate. “Thanks. What’s going on?”

  “It’s sketchy, but it looks like the transplant ring is run out of China.”

  “China. That fits with what the FBI said.”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Just that it was an international ring. Did you get anything else?”

  “State-sponsored rings are tough to crack. They’re well-funded and use diplomatic status to cover problems. There was a recent buy of pharmaceuticals that could be traced to them. There were opioids in the mix but also a stash of prednisone. It has a couple of uses, but it’s also an antirejection med.”

  “You know who bought it?”

  “I’m working on it. These guys are sophisticated; there’s a web of head fakes.”

  “Man, you find that, and we’re on the way.”

  “We got nothing.”

  “But you said—”

  “I didn’t say much. So, don’t get your hopes high.”

  Cory shrugged. “This is so screwed up, man.”

  Black nodded. “I heard something, but it could be nothing.”

  “What? What did you hear?”

  Black lowered his voice. “They may be using trucks as mobile hospitals.”

  “Holy shit. That makes sense. They can drive them around. Maybe the police can put up roadblocks and—”

  “Don’t tell anyone. And I mean it. You start mouthing off, and I’m done. You hear?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m sorry.”

  “You start blabbing like the last time, lose my number.”

  As Cory started to say sorry, Black walked away.

  Riding an Uber home, Cory kept his eyes peeled for his daughter. He thought about Black and the way he was. Cory reasoned he had to be tough and unemotional, otherwise he’d be ineffective.

  He remembered what Black had said when he asked him why he never wore a heavy coat or hat when it was freezing. Black said he blocked out the cold. When Cory questioned him, he said you had to train your mind.

  Cory had read how people were able to teach themselves to compartmentalize. He wondered if his ability to focus on music, no matter what else was going on, was something he could build on.

  When he played or even composed, he was able to concentrate so intently that people told him he was in a trance. It wasn’t something he was born with.

  Cory recalled struggling to focus when he began playing. He was easily distracted by what others were playing and the doubts in his head over how he sounded.

  He remembered how hard it was playing in the high school big band, where others were playing different lines. He made a ton of mistakes. It was frustrating, but instead of quitting, he forced himself to focus.

  Climbing the stairs to his apartment, Cory wondered about the difference between the training Mr. Black mentioned and the concentration Cory was able to attain.

  Cory stepped into the apartment. It was quiet. Where was his wife? He hoped she was sleeping. He checked the master bedroom. It was empty.

  He went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water and heard something. He checked Ava’s room. Linda was curled up on her daughter’s bed, sobbing.

 
Cory crawled beside her. “It’s okay. She’ll be home soon.”

  As he spooned his wife, she said, “She’s not coming back. I can feel it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The vehicle was slowing down. She wondered if they were stopping again. The engine shifted into a lower gear, and it felt like they were climbing uphill.

  She squinted and tried to see through the sleeping mask they’d put on her. She’d tried to keep track of the days, but between the constant darkness and the drugs, it was impossible.

  It was hard not asking what was going on, but if she spoke, they’d put her under like they did the two times before when she tried to talk. There were voices. People talking. She strained to hear what they were saying.

  Were they talking to the boy in the vehicle? It was impossible to understand what they were saying.

  They switched from English to what she thought was Chinese. The voices got louder.

  Two pairs of footsteps approached. They stopped where she was lying. The man with the deep voice said, “All right now. We’re going to get you up.”

  Her anxiety rose as they grabbed her ankle and put something on her feet. They were her shoes. She hoped it was a good sign.

  “Get ready.” Hands snuck beneath her shoulders. “Here we go. Nice and easy.”

  She moaned as they helped her into a sitting position.

  “Take your time, it’s just some stiffness. I’ll get you something for the pain, but you can’t speak. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Open up.”

  Opening her mouth, two pills hit her tongue.

  “Here’s some water.”

  Water dripped down her chin as he placed the bottle to her lips. The smell of latex hit her as she took two gulps. She nodded and he pulled the bottle away.

  The vehicle slowed to a crawl. A woolen hat was pulled over her head.

  “We’re going to put your jacket on.”

  Her heart began pounding. “I’m going outside?”

  “No talking!”

  She nodded.

  They put something in her jacket pocket. She used the inside of her elbow as a probe. It felt like a handful of small bottles.

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to tie your hands behind you. You’ll be able to wiggle them free in a couple of minutes. Okay?”

  Her fear growing, she nodded.

  As they bound her hands, the deep-voiced man said, “Don’t try to remove your mask. If you see us, we’ll have to do something we don’t want to. You understand?”

  She bobbed her head.

  They chattered in Chinese. The vehicle ground to a stop.

  The other man said, “Okay. Let’s get going.”

  Two hands snaked under her armpits and set her on the floor. She muffled a groan.

  They walked her ten steps and stopped. A quick command in Chinese was given. She heard a door open.

  “There are three small steps. One foot at a time.”

  Inching her foot forward, she tipped it over the edge and probed for a landing. “That’s it. Go ahead.”

  She crept down the two other steps and landed on a hard surface. Was it asphalt? The hum of traffic made her wonder if she was near a highway.

  “We’re going straight ahead.”

  The men led her a dozen paces, and the ground under her feet turned softer. Her body stiffened.

  “It’s okay. We’re going to sit you on a bench.”

  They walked her five steps and turned her around. As they eased her onto a bench, the deep voice said, “Now, don’t do anything stupid. Sit here and count to two hundred before you try and untie your hands. You understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Remember, we’re watching you. You don’t follow instructions, you’ll regret it.”

  She heard them jog away. Seconds later, the closing of a door sounded. Counting, as the vehicle’s engine accelerated, she began crying at twenty-three.

  She listened but could no longer hear the vehicle. Wrestling her hands back and forth, the rope loosened. Slipping a hand out, she pulled her mask off.

  The flood of light stunned her eyes. She clamped them shut and freed her other hand. She opened her eyes to a slit. She was at the edge of an expansive parking lot.

  Squinting, she made out a building in the distance. It looked like a rest area off a highway. She stood, clutching a hand to her belly. It hurt. She was puzzled by the padding.

  She clawed her sweater up. What had they done to her? She tried to recount being swept off the street. Someone had put a smelly cloth over her mouth and nose.

  She remembered consciousness slipping away. Before everything went black, there was a man in a white van. He’d reached out, pulling her inside.

  She searched her memory; had she banged into something when they stuffed her into the van? The only thing that came to her was the cool feeling of the metal floor.

  Though doubting it’d be there, she patted her pockets for a phone. Getting up slowly, she scanned the area. The highway’s off-ramp access to the rest area was a football field away.

  The building was farther and an uphill walk. She took a series of small steps and paused. Her legs were weak. A car came up the ramp.

  “Help! Help me!”

  The hum of the sixty-mile-an-hour traffic drowned her plea and the car kept going. Realizing she was too far to be seen, she took a deep breath and broadened her gait.

  Each time a car exited the highway, she flailed her arms and screamed as loud as possible. She was getting closer. Shuffling toward the ramp, a white van left the highway.

  She backpedaled, hiding behind a tree. The vehicle zoomed by, and she resumed her struggle to reach help.

  A red pickup truck exited. She ambled to the side of the road. She waved her arms. “Stop. Please. Help.”

  The truck passed her by. “Oh! Come on.”

  The pickup slowed down. It pulled over.

  “Help me. Please.”

  White taillights came on, and she prayed the truck would back up.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cory weaved in and out of traffic. He kept replaying what Detective Grillo had said, ‘We found Ava. She’s alive but has been wounded.’

  He’d asked what kind of an injury, but Grillo couldn’t provide details. As he exited the Henry Hudson Parkway, Cory questioned whether the detective had held back. Did he know about his daughter’s condition but was afraid to say?

  Cory and Linda jumped out of their car, running past the parking attendant into Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. They went straight to the elevator bank.

  Cory pushed the button. “Come on. Hurry up!” He pecked the button repeatedly. “The hell with this. Let’s take the stairs.”

  They bounded up to the second floor. The nurse’s station directed them to a room. A police officer was standing outside the door. He put up a hand and Cory said, “We’re Ava’s parents.”

  A nurse was changing an IV bag as they stormed in. Linda said, “My Ava. What have they done to you?”

  The nurse, whose blond hair was piled on her head, said, “She’s resting. I wouldn’t wake her right now.”

  Linda sobbed as she kissed her daughter’s hand. Cory asked, “What happened to her?”

  “Let me get Dr. Simmons.”

  The nurse hurried out, and Cory sidled up to the bed. “She looks good. Don’t you think?”

  Linda wiped her nose. “I thought we’d never see her. I really did.”

  Cory put his arm around his wife. “She’s going to be fine. Let her rest. We’ll go see the doctor.”

  “I can’t leave her alone.”

  “She’s safe. Come on, we have to talk to the doctor.”

  Cory pried his wife away, and they stepped into the hall. A doctor in green scrubs and red clogs approached. “Mr. and Mrs. Lupinski?”

  “Yes.”

  He extended a hand. “Dr. Simmons. I’m taking care of Ava.”

  Cory took his soft hand. “What happened to her?”<
br />
  “It’s hard to believe, but she had a section of her liver removed.”

  Linda wailed, “Oh my God.”

  Cory put his arm around her waist. It was the organ transplant gang that took his daughter. “They butchered her?”

  “Actually, and I don’t mean to condone this, but it appears whoever performed the surgery was highly skilled.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “The MRI of her liver is already showing new growth, and there are no signs of bleeding or infection. The incision and suturing also show signs it was executed by a professional.”

  Linda said, “Is she going to be normal. Doesn’t she need a full liver?”

  “Fortunately, the liver regenerates. Given it appears that the surgery was performed professionally, I’d expect her to make a full recovery.”

  “Thank God.”

  “She’ll have to be monitored. We’ll continue giving her antibiotics but wean her off pain medications.”

  “They gave her pills?”

  “Yes, it’s critically important with a surgery of this kind to avoid infection.”

  “Did she suffer when they did it?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know where the surgery was performed, but they seemed to have followed all recommended protocols.”

  “When can she come home?”

  “We’d like to keep her for another couple of days as a precaution. She’s really doing fine, but given the circumstances, I’d like to closely monitor her to make sure she fully recovers.”

  “Of course, whatever you believe is best.”

  Linda said, “I’m not leaving this hospital.”

  “I understand, and that won’t be a problem. We’ll make it as comfortable as we can. Besides, Ava will be glad to have your company.”

  “Can we wake her up?”

  “I don’t see why not. It’ll be good for her to see you.”

  Linda headed in before the doctor finished talking. Cory said, “Thanks, Doc,” and followed her.

  Linda was at Ava’s bedside, stroking her face. “Honey? It’s Mommy.”

  Ava’s eyes slowly opened. She blinked. “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey. We’re here now. You’re going to be all right.”

  Cory swallowed. His voice cracked when he said, “Hey, Ava. How are you doing?”