“Any of the specialty shops.” He named a few, and I wrote them down as quickly as possible.
“Thanks, Joey.”
“Anytime.”
I double checked DAWG’s website and clicked on its “Where to Find Us” link. If only every investigation were so easy.
Several specialty shops popped up, and I zeroed in on two near Daddy B’s stomping grounds. Both were open, and as much as I hated to leave Kenna at home, I texted her about my plans.
Need to visit a couple pet stores and show them pictures of Buck and his leash. Also of Daddy B and Kat. Maybe someone will recognize them. Wish you could go.
Me too, she wrote back. Sky will be asleep another hour though. I’ll recheck social media sites while you’re gone. Pick up a few donations for the shelter, okay? I’ll pay. Make some of them Bruno-sized. J
Done! I’ll text you when I’m back.
Donation suggestions had been posted at the shelter, but I visited the website to remind myself of what they needed, and I printed the list along with the new photos I’d need. Then I hit the road.
The owner of the first store carried Buck’s leash, but nothing about Kat, Buck, or Daddy B seemed to ring any bells for him. I purchased dog treats, cat food, and puppy training pads, which reminded me how glad I was to be long past potty training. Nothing could convince me to train another living being in the art of elimination.
I pinned my hopes on store number two, where I perused the aisles while sizing up the staff. One woman was the oldest and most knowledgeable, and I guessed she was in charge.
“Hi,” I said while approaching her with my full shopping basket. “I’m getting supplies for my local animal shelter, and I’m also a private investigator looking into a case involving a pet.”
“Well, that’s a first,” she said with a smile. “I’m the owner. How can I help?”
I set the basket down and pulled out my shopping list before anything else.
“The shelter says it needs puzzle toys for dogs and cats. Which ones do you recommend? I don’t have pets, so I’m clueless.”
“These are really popular,” she said, guiding me toward a rack of red rubber thing-a-ma-bobs.
“What do they do?”
“They dispense treats, but the dogs have to work to get them out. Sometimes they play with them for hours.”
“Hours? Why don’t they make those for kids?” I was almost serious. They looked like an entertainment miracle. And not a bad diet aid for adults either. You want that treat? You’re going to have to work for it. Maybe they could make them in “cupcake size.”
“Yup. You fill it with something yummy, and the dogs chew on it and bounce it around like crazy. You can buy special treats for them, if you want.” She pulled a few bags from a nearby shelf. “See?”
I added three toys and matching snacks to my load. One set was perfect for a dog Bruno’s size. Then I pulled out the photos.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I’d also like to ask you about a pet and some people. If you’ve seen any of them, it will help with a case I’m working on.”
She leaned forward to see the photo of Buck I’d enlarged.
“I don’t recognize that dog, and I’m good with remembering pets. What’s the dog’s name?”
“Buck.”
“No, I’m sorry. I know a few Bucks, but not that one.”
“Okay, how about her?” I held out a photo of Kat. “Her hair might be lighter now.”
She looked at me in surprise.
“Oh my gosh. I’ve seen her. She’s a new customer.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
She closed her eyes. “I’m not sure. Within the last week, I think. She’s only come in once. Wait.” She ran behind the counter and rummaged through a stack of papers beneath the register. “We have an email newsletter signup list, and I think she signed up. What’s her name?”
I was hesitant to give it, but I went ahead, hoping she’d share whatever was on her signup sheet.
“Kat. It’s short for Katherine.”
“Yes. Here she is.” She held her breath. “But—”
“What?”
“Our signup sheet promises that we won’t share customers’ contact information with anyone else. It’s right here at the top.”
“Normally, that’s wonderful,” I said. “But this customer could be in danger, and the information you have could help us protect her.”
She looked at a nearby teenage clerk, who was listening in. That wasn’t going to help. As the owner, she’d want to set an example.
“Let’s start with this,” I said. “What information do you request on your form?”
“Name, address, phone number, and email.”
“Which ones did she provide?”
She paused. “Only her name and email.”
Okay. Not as much as I’d hoped, but it was something.
“Do you remember what she bought when she was here?”
“Dog food. I asked what kind of dog she had, and she wasn’t sure. She said she was getting it for a friend.”
“That makes sense.” I showed her Daddy B’s picture, but she didn’t recognize him, even when I mentioned the DAWG leash and his real name. “If I give you the name of a police detective, will you share the information about Kat with him?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Good. That was the start of my plan.
People who join mailing lists, I guessed, generally want information and deals. I hoped that together, we could send Kat both. Something tempting enough to coax her out. Something that wouldn’t tip off anyone who might be monitoring her activities. After the owner spoke with Detective Brunelli, who took her information and unintentionally confirmed I was legit, I decided to make a proposal.
“Is there somewhere we could talk in private? After you ring up my purchases?” I asked.
“Yes.” She scanned my items and neatly packed them into a sturdy paper bag while I paid and quickly texted Kenna. “Follow me,” the owner said when she was done.
She led me to her office, which was coated with white pet hair, and I set my bag on the floor.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said. “We’re a pet-friendly workplace.”
“No problem.” I smiled and sat, accepting that my butt would be furry—and that I should have purchased a lint roller I’d seen by the register. “Here’s what I’m thinking. I understand that you can’t give me Kat’s email address. But maybe you could email her for me.”
“What would you want me to say?”
“Well, I don’t want to worry her or anyone who might be reading her email.” Like a violent prostitution kingpin. “So it’s important to contact her carefully.”
“Okay.”
“I’m thinking we could send her a special ‘new customer welcome.’ One that might get her to come in and talk with me. We’d write it together and make sure you were comfortable with it.”
“That sounds good, but what will get a new customer to come back in? Whatever it is, I’ll start using it every time.”
I smiled. “For Kat, I think it’s less about what it says, and more about what it includes.”
“I don’t get it.”
I pulled out my phone to show her.
“This is Bruno,” I said. “He’s a sweet Chihuahua at the shelter, and he has a special connection to Kat.”
“He’s adorable.” She pulled the phone closer and admired him.
“Isn’t he? He’s going into foster care soon.”
“I hope he finds a good home. How is he connected to Kat?”
“It’s a long story, but if we can put his picture in the email and maybe say you’re doing a fundraiser for his shelter, I bet she’ll pay attention.”
“We feature available pets in every newsletter, so
that’s not a stretch, and we give ten percent of our proceeds to animal charities. In this situation, maybe we can do something extra.”
I exhaled with relief. My only concern was that since Buck wasn’t with Daddy B anymore, a sale or special event might not bring Kat in. She wouldn’t have supplies to purchase.
What would be irresistible to eighteen-year-old Kat, other than having Bruno here himself? More importantly, what would be irresistible to anyone influencing or controlling her? The answer to both questions might be the same: money.
“Let’s offer a prize that benefits her and pets like Bruno. She’d have to come in herself to claim it.”
“Like what?”
I thought of the two hundred dollars I’d made at the club. “We could say she won a new customer drawing for two hundred dollars, one hundred for her and one hundred for Bruno’s shelter. I’ll pay for both. I’ll also donate to Bruno’s shelter whether or not she shows up.” I got out my checkbook, wrote a hundred-dollar check to the shelter, and set it on her desk. “I’ll throw in a forty-dollar El Toro gift certificate too. I think that will appeal to her.”
“This girl must be in a lot of trouble for you to do all this,” she said.
“It’s not just me. There are a lot of people who care about her. I really appreciate that you’re considering this. Are you willing to jump onboard?”
“I think so. When do you want this prize to be awarded?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?” I checked the time on my phone. “She’d have the rest of today to check her email, and she could come in anytime tomorrow.”
“The program I use for email promotions lets me know when someone opens the email, so we’ll know if she saw it. If we include links, we’ll know if she clicked on those too.”
Completely invasive, yet helpful. Story of a PI’s life.
“Great,” I said.
“Should we ask her to tell us when she’s going to be here? Or give her a window of time to show up?”
“We can ask her to respond with a time if possible, but let’s not require one. I’ll be thrilled if she shows up at all, and I’ll stay close by just in case. In fact, do you need a volunteer? I’d be happy to help unpack boxes, stock shelves, vacuum, whatever.”
“We always welcome extra help. I just hope this works. I have to admit, this PI stuff is kind of exciting. My only concern is whether Kat’s involved with anyone dangerous. I mean, if she’s in trouble, and I put my customers or employees at risk—”
“That’s a legitimate concern, and I can’t make any promises. Either way, I’ll talk with whoever responds to the email and take them somewhere private as soon as possible.”
“We open at nine. Can you be here that early?”
Compared to Sophie’s typical early morning wakeup time, nine was a luxury.
“I’ll be here before you open,” I said. “Now let’s write the best email we can and make Bruno the star.”
Eighteen
The email was sent, Sky’s nap was over, and Kenna and I needed to tie up some loose ends. First, we purchased a gift certificate from El Toro and questioned the restaurant staff again, disappointed that no one reported seeing Kat. Then we hit the mall, where we asked the Starbucks employees about her. They recognized her photo and knew her by name, but they hadn’t seen her in weeks, which coincided with the shopping spree the motel maid had reported.
We also kept an eye out for pimps who might be preying on young women. There were countless guys and girls flirting, laughing, and checking each other out. Determining their ages was tougher than anticipated, so we looked for obvious age gaps. But in two hours of strolling, ice-cream eating, and eavesdropping, we didn’t see any girls immediately at risk, which ultimately was a relief.
Kenna reminded me of Disco Fit, which I’d agreed to attend, so by the time I’d survived it, I had just enough time to shower, eat dinner with Dean, and fill him in on our plans to cruise the worst streets in King County.
“Maureen Strickland warned you about those areas and how vicious Big Tim is, and you still want to go?” he asked.
“Want to? I don’t know. Need to? Yeah.”
“How about if I go too, then?”
“I’d love it, but I don’t think Kenna would approve. You might take the BFF fun out of it—for her obviously, not for me.”
“So Andy’s okay with it?”
“I’m not sure how much he knows.”
“Well, he’s going to ask me about all this eventually. We’re going to a baseball game later this week.”
“You don’t have to hide anything, unless it’s confidential. Just don’t volunteer it either.”
Dean shook his head. “Promise you won’t stop and talk to anyone except Kat, if you see her.”
I was silent for a moment. “I promise I’ll use good judgment.”
He squeezed my hand. “I know. It’s the rest of the world I don’t trust. I’ve seen too much.”
That was exactly how I felt. There was so much in my life, my professional training, and the world that I couldn’t un-see. The best I could do was learn from it.
Dean equipped my van with covert cameras that would document what happened in front of us and let us review anything questionable.
Kenna and I dressed in dark colors and turned off all the van’s interior lights. If we opened a door for some reason, we didn’t want to call attention to ourselves. We also mapped out areas to visit, tucked our hair into hats, gassed up, bought snacks, peed, and reviewed how to approach Kat if we saw her. In short, we’d try to make her feel comfortable.
I’d read it was normal for johns to cruise around “tracks” several times, looking for law enforcement and checking out women. Apparently, pimps and their cronies also cruised the streets, keeping an eye on things. I was nervous about who we might encounter and reminded myself that we didn’t have to get out of the van.
Kat’s situation is probably far more dangerous than anything we’ll face, I told myself. She needs help, and fast, so get going.
Kenna sat in the second row, hopefully invisible to the outside world and able to get perspectives from all the van’s windows. I wished I could send Jack’s toy periscope (which really worked) through the roof, and I wondered if any PI vehicles were actually equipped with something similar.
We started in the most familiar areas, but few people, men or women, were out. Maybe it was too early or too chilly. It was spring, but the temperatures still dropped low overnight.
As it got later and we widened our surveillance area, more women in short skirts and tight tops emerged. A few times, we saw them get into cars after brief conversations with drivers.
“I wonder where they go,” Kenna mused. “Aren’t you tempted to follow them?”
“Sort of, but we don’t want to out ourselves. We’ll drive by all the local hotels and motels and keep an eye on parking lots too.”
We fell into comfortable silence until we reached a neighborhood that felt particularly rundown and dangerous. Brick walls were tagged with graffiti. Iron bars guarded windows and residents. Occasional streetlights illuminated litter-strewn sidewalks.
I tried to imagine what was behind various doorways. Kids? Violence? Empty cupboards? Good people who couldn’t escape? Certainly all of the above and more than I could fathom. I felt helpless yet determined.
“Slow down,” Kenna said as we passed an overgrown lot surrounded by a chain-link fence. Along its perimeter, two women in skin-tight leggings and silky tops walked toward us, one of them unsteady in heels.
“They’re shorter than Kat,” I said quietly, as if they could hear me. “And thinner.”
I tried to see their faces anyway while keeping an eye on the road.
“I think one of them is a kid,” Kenna said as we passed.
“No. Are you serious?”
“Circle around and dr
ive by again. One of them looked, I don’t know, fifteen or so.”
I drove around the block and passed them more slowly, not caring if they thought we were strange, but trying not to scare them either.
“Which one?”
“The skinnier one. In red. She can barely walk in those shoes.”
The girl glanced down at her phone and then toward the parking lot, so I couldn’t tell her age. Her friend, who peered at us, looked no more than twenty.
“Damn,” Kenna said. “I couldn’t see her. Do you mind going around again?”
“Already on it.”
I took a right and pulled around a different block this time. As we rolled back onto the street, however, a dark sedan pulled up, and the young women got into it. No conversation, which made me suspect it was a pimp or someone else they knew.
“Follow them,” Kenna urged.
I called out the license plate for her to jot down, just in case Dean’s cameras weren’t working or couldn’t get a clear picture.
“Are you sure she was that young?” I asked as the sedan sped away. I didn’t want to chase it unless Kenna was fairly sure of what she’d seen.
“No. But go anyway,” she insisted.
I caught up at a red light, where an SUV was between us, and another car was on the sedan’s right.
When the light turned green, the SUV driver didn’t notice, so I accelerated around it and pulled calmly behind the sedan, hoping to keep up without being obvious.
The road was dotted with stoplights as far as I could see, and we were at their mercy. I thought we’d scored a coup when I pulled up slightly ahead of the car at another light, and other vehicles blocked our paths. I didn’t have a good view of its occupants without being obvious, but Kenna did. Plus, she was behind tinted windows.
“What can you see?” I murmured, feeling like a ventriloquist.
“That girl is definitely high-school age,” she said. “She just glanced over at you. I’m getting video with your camera. The driver’s a white guy with a scruffy beard. I can’t see him very well.”
Skydive Page 16