by H K Christie
So far, I'd learned the worst part of your kid growing up is that you couldn't always protect them. I hated that. The parenting books said that at the right time, you had to let them be free to make their own mistakes. I had to teach her right so that when she was faced with choices on her own, she'd make good ones.
Hirsch said, "I like the idea of tailing him first. If we make any IDs, we can get Vincent to do background checks on them and then in the morning, full interrogation at Jordan's house."
Hirsch and I were often on the same page. It was almost as if we were two minds from the same brain.
"All right, I'm going to head out. It's been a long day, and I'm looking forward to Mom's cooking and hugging my little girl. Plus, I still have to pack. I don't have a go bag like some people do—since I'm not a criminal," I teased.
He cracked a grin. "I'll see you bright and early at the airport. I, too, am looking forward to going home to my empty apartment with no living beings, except for maybe a few items in the refrigerator."
"Hirsch, you've got to get out of that apartment. It's depressing." I'd only been there a few times, but it was sad. The walls were beige. It had no photographs or art on the walls. The only decoration was in his kitchen, where he had a whiteboard with details about the case. It wasn't healthy. He called it his transition apartment, and it certainly was. I hoped he transitioned into another home and soon. I agreed with Zoey. He at least needed a fish or some sign of life.
I waved as I exited the war room. Tomorrow, we would watch Jordan Day's every move and then we'd hit him hard.
I approached the dining room and heard additional voices other than my mom’s and Zoey's. I stepped up and wrapped my arms around Zoey. She turned her head to look at me, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, my Zoey."
"Hi, Mommy."
I glanced over at my mother and waved, and then smiled at Zoey's best friend. "Hi, Kaylie, how are you doing?"
"I'm good. Did you see what Zoey and I made?"
I glanced down at the table where they were doing artwork and then at the floor. I wondered if there was more glitter on the table and floor than their construction paper. "It's magnificent."
"Thank you."
The doorbell rang, and my heart sped up. "Are you expecting anyone?"
My mother walked over and patted me on the shoulder. "Relax, it's probably Kaylie's sister here to pick her up."
I gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. I continued chatting with Kaylie and Zoey. They told me all about the different projects they had planned to create in the future.
Kaylie's sister, Heather, approached the dining room. She wore low-waisted jeans and a cropped top. Her long blond hair flowed around her shoulders, accented by her sun-kissed skin. Her bright-blue eyes and fair complexion reminded me of the missing girls, and my heart nearly skipped a beat. "Hi, Heather, how are you?"
"I'm great. How are you, Martina?"
"I'm doing well. How are things at school? Are you loving college?"
Heather was Kaylie's much older sister, who was in her first year at Holy Names University in Oakland. Since Kaylie and Zoey have been friends, I'd heard many, many stories about Heather and all the things she taught Kaylie about life and love and makeup. It was obvious the girls were fascinated by Kaylie's teenage sister.
She nodded. "I love it. The freedom. The classes. The scenery."
"That's great to hear. Have you decided on a major?"
"English. I want to be a writer."
"Wonderful."
Heather walked closer and lowered her voice. "How is the investigation going for the missing girls?"
I hadn't realized teenagers watched the news. "We've got a few promising leads. I'm surprised you've heard about the case."
"It's all my friends and I can talk about. I mean, look at me. I look just like those girls who went missing. So do half of the girls in my dorm. Are there certain precautions we should take to stay safe?"
It surprised me that the press conference had made such an impact on Heather and her friends. "Yes, definitely. I always recommend self-defense training, carrying pepper spray or mace, and don't go anywhere with any strangers. Be alert and aware of your surroundings. Let someone know where you're going at all times, even if it's just to go to the store, especially if you're going to be meeting somebody new. Provide all known information to someone, like a good friend or your parents. The young women that went missing didn't do that, and now it's been four years, and we still don't know what happened to them."
Heather's face paled. "I never thought of it that way."
"Yeah, these girls were just like you and the other young women at your dorm. Half of them were college students with plans for the future, but it’s likely they trusted the wrong person and didn't tell anybody about where they were going or who they were going with. Now, myself and Detective Hirsch, are picking up the breadcrumbs that they left behind and trying our best to follow the path back to them. You don't want your family and friends to have to wait years to find out what happened to you."
Heather looked worried. Good. "Okay, so always let someone know where I'm going and who I'm meeting. Learn self-defense, get pepper spray, and be alert," Heather said.
"You got it. Next time you're home, I can show you a few pointers."
"That would be so cool. Maybe you should teach self-defense classes at school. Oh my gosh, what if you came on campus and taught a bunch of us self-defense? That would be amazing."
"Maybe after this case is over, we can talk about it. I would love to help other young people avoid dangerous situations, or at least be able to defend themselves, in the event they get themselves into one."
"Cool. Can I have one of your business cards?" Heather asked.
"Sure." I fished into my backpack and pulled out a business card for Heather and handed it to her.
She stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans. She called over to Kaylie. "Are you ready, Kaylie? It's time to go."
"Do I have to?"
"Yep."
"Okay." Kaylie pouted before she pushed herself out of the chair, picked up her backpack and a stuffed animal that looked like a cross between a turtle and a rabbit. Maybe a green rabbit? She waved to the both of us. "Bye, Zoey. Bye, Martina. Bye, Grandma Betty."
We watched them exit our house. Such a normal scene. Two eight-year-olds making art projects. The big sister coming to pick her up. I hadn't considered teaching self-defense to college students, but it was a good idea. The more women knew how to defend themselves, the less likely they'd find themselves becoming a victim. I sniffed the air and thought I caught a whiff of lasagna. My stomach grumbled. "Is that lasagna I smell?"
"Grandma made lasagna. Do you want some? I can get it."
"Yummy. Thank you, but I'll get it. Why don't you finish cleaning up here, and I'll get myself some dinner."
"Okay."
In the kitchen, I helped myself to a generous helping of the homemade lasagna.
"You ready for your trip tomorrow?" my mother asked as she entered the kitchen.
"Not quite. I still have to pack."
"Are you making progress on the case?"
"I think so. We're continuing to learn things that don't make us hopeful that we'll find them alive, but at least maybe we can bring them home. We found another one that we think may be related."
"How awful."
"My thoughts exactly. I suppose I'll never be out of a job. Sometimes, I'm not sure if that's a good thing."
"I don't know how you do it, Martina. You're tough as tar, I suppose."
"Thank you again for making dinner."
"You know, you don't have to keep thanking me for every little thing."
"I just appreciate it so much. You have no idea how nice it is to come home from a long day and there's homemade lasagna or enchiladas or chicken piccata or risotto or vegetables and rice. Not to mention, to know that Zoey has you here with her. You being here has really changed our lives, Mom."
"Oh,
you stop, before I tear up."
"I'm serious. We adored Claire, and she was great, but she wasn't you. She wasn't family. As much as Zoey loves Claire, seeing her with you is a completely different thing. I know it took us a long time to get here. We've lost so many years, but I guess I just can't say enough how much it means to me you're here with us, and I thank God every day that I have you and Zoey in my life." I realized I was starting to tear up myself.
My mother stepped closer and embraced me. "Oh, Martina, I thank God every day for you too."
Zoey ran into the kitchen. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
My mother stepped back. "There's nothing wrong. We're showing each other that we love one another."
"I want to do that too," Zoey said with a little attitude.
"Well then, come here and give us a hug," my mother insisted.
Zoey pulled the three of us together for a three-way hug.
Life certainly never turns out the way you expect it to. Lately, I found myself focusing on all the things I had in my life and not the things I had lost. I was blessed to have my mother, my daughter, and a job that brought me purpose.
22
Martina
I approached the driver's side of our rental car. I pulled off my cardigan since it was ten degrees warmer in Southern California than in the Bay Area. I clicked the key fob and opened the door to the back and placed my cardigan and my carry-on in the backseat. I entered the driver's side and slid behind the steering wheel. Hirsch was already seated in the passenger side. I glanced over at him. "Should we drop our stuff at the hotel or should we just get to it?"
"Let's get to it."
"Yes, sir." The flight was only an hour. It wasn't like we were jet lagged or had flown across country. It had been two hours since we left the Bay Area, and I hoped it was late enough in the morning that we'd miss most of the rush-hour traffic going from LAX to downtown. Nervous energy was shooting through me as I thought about how I wanted to nail Jordan Day to the wall. I had a feeling based on what Isaac had said about Jonathan not wanting to recruit for his brother that Jordan was at the center of what happened to the four missing women. Chances were that Jordan had seen the news or maybe had heard about the case from his brother or accomplices and maybe had already taken precautions—like getting out of town.
After entering his home address into the GPS, I headed out of the rental car parking lot. Before long, we were in bumper-to-bumper traffic with horns blaring. Basically, the worst place to be. I thought the traffic in the Bay Area was bad, but LA was even worse. Maybe the traffic never let up?
Finally, we made it to the home of Jordan Day. There wasn't a car in the driveway or on the street in front of the Mediterranean-style bungalow with white stucco walls and a wooden door. It was cute, charming even. It seemed as if Jordan Day had done well for himself. I parked in front of the house. "What do you say we look around? Do you have the warrant with you?"
"Yep. Not that I want to use it yet. But it's not a bad idea to have it in hand in case somebody wonders what we’re doing lurking around the house."
I hopped out of the car and made my way to the front of the house. Hirsch knocked on the front door as I peered in through the windows without any luck. The shades were drawn.
Did Jordan know his brother was dead and was he scared he was next? Or was he out of town because he'd been up north killing his brother? I turned to Hirsch. "I'll look around back." I headed to the side of the house and let myself into the backyard. It was tidy, with a small bistro table, a few trees, and a water feature that sounded like a mini waterfall. I turned around and looked at the back of the house that was made of floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding-glass doors.
Jordan hadn't shut the shades on the backside of the house. I approached the house and peered in. Nothing seemed to be out of order. Dining table, sofa, coffee table, and kitchen. Reasonably neat. I couldn't see into any of the bedrooms. I couldn't tell if Jordan lived alone or had a roommate or a companion who stayed over. According to records, he wasn't married. The house was in his name, and I didn't think he would have a roommate, but you never knew. Many people had roommates to help pay off their mortgage.
I exited the backyard and met up with Hirsch, who was poking around the other side of the house. "Should we ask the neighbors if they've seen anything unusual?"
"Maybe we wait. If he's tight with any of them, we don't want them telling Jordan that somebody was asking about him."
"Makes sense," I said before I glanced around the neighborhood. There weren't any neighbors out for a walk or looking out through the front doors. "Are you ready to head over to his place of work?"
"After you."
I smirked and headed back to the rental car.
Parked in an overpriced garage, we set out on foot in downtown Los Angeles to a high-rise building where Jordan Day worked at a talent agency, not his own baby, but a much larger firm. He'd come a long way in the last few years. We reached the building with a shiny sign that read, Top Talent Agency.
Original. I pulled open the door and Hirsch followed behind. The directory said Jordan was on the second floor. "Are you okay with taking the stairs?" I asked.
"I am. I work out, you know."
"Okay, Cheeseburger and Fries."
Hirsch laughed. "You know you can be fit and eat fries."
"If you say so." I grinned as I headed toward the stairwell. We reached the second floor and stepped into the lobby. I walked up to the receptionist, who wore about a half a pound of makeup and about as much hairspray. She must be the talent. "Hello, may I help you?"
"Yes, we're here to see Jordan Day."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No."
Hirsch leaned over and flashed his badge. "I'm Detective Hirsch with the CoCo County Sheriff's Department. We need to speak with Jordan Day immediately."
I liked how motivated folks were when Hirsch waved his badge around. It made me consider my line of work. In some ways, it seemed like having the power of the badge would make investigations go a little easier, but then again, there was all that bureaucracy. Pass.
The woman looked dumbfounded and then glanced back up at Hirsch. "Okay, just one moment, please." She picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons. "Hi, Jordan, there's a detective here who wants to talk to you and he's with somebody."
She nodded. "Okay, I'll send them now." She hung up the receiver and eyed Hirsch. "You can go back. It's down the hall and to the left."
"Thank you."
Hirsch led the way back to Jordan Day's office. We approached the office and found Jordan sitting at his desk with both hands gripping the hair atop his head. He was clearly worried about something.
Hirsch introduced himself and then me. Jordan's brown eyes were wide and his skin pale. Jordan Day looked like he was having a bad day. I didn't think we were about to make it any better, but it wasn't our job to do so. "Mr. Day, we have a few questions for you. Do you mind if we sit down?" Hirsch asked.
Jordan released his hair and said, "Of course, please sit. Anything I can do to help the police." He eyed me and then Hirsch.
If I didn't know any better, I would think he knew exactly who we were and why we were there. He shuffled papers on top of the desk. It was as if he were trying to appear calm, but the beads of sweat running down his temples were a dead giveaway.
Hirsch began. "When was the last time you spoke with your brother?"
"I'm not sure the exact day, but it was sometime last week."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I would have to check for sure. We don't talk regularly. It just happened to be..." He shook his head and threw his hands in the air. "Look, he called me last week after he saw the news that you were reopening the missing person’s cases for those three girls. That was the last time I talked to him. That's it. That's everything."
I seriously doubted that. "Why did he call you about that?"
"He said he was concerned for the girls. He acted as if I k
new where they were."
"Why would he think you knew where the girls were?"
"You see, all three of the missing girls were my clients. Jonathan referred them to me. All three were aspiring actresses. They were beautiful and talented young women."
Hirsch and I exchanged glances. "When was the last time you spoke with the women?"
"It was shortly before they went missing. Raquel hadn't showed up for an appointment. I figured I had misjudged her, and she was another flaky teenager, but then I saw on the news she was missing. I didn't think much of it, but when Willow and Layla went missing too, I didn't know what was happening. All three of them had booked appointments for a photo shoot, but none of them showed up."
"Did you try reaching out to them to find out why they hadn't shown up for the photo shoot?"
"Of course, but I didn't get a response."
"And that's everything you know about those three women's disappearance?"
"Yeah."
"And you didn't think that was strange that three of your clients went missing?"
He shrugged.
I sat up and leaned forward. "What do you know about Raquel?"
"Like I said, Jonathan had referred her to me because she was an actress. We did headshots, and I set up a shoot for her. She didn't show up. I never heard from her again. I knew little about her other than that. It's the same for the other two as well."
I gave him a little side eye. "We've already spoken to the family and friends of Raquel, Willow, and Layla. The friends told us a similar story about how you told the girls to keep your relationship with them a secret from their families. Three of them had a photo shoot the day they disappeared. Why did you have the girls keep your working relationship a secret if you were a legitimate talent agent? Can you answer me that, Jordan?" I demanded.