by Wen Spencer
“Hutchinson thought I was dating you.” Indigo smiled slightly. “He was warning me off; apparently a rich girl dumped him, so he didn’t want me hurt the same way.”
“Dating me? What made him . . . ?” Max trailed off, snapping his fingers. “Rich girl!” Max ducked into his office, sorted through folders, opened one, and flipped through the paper within until he found what he was looking for. He scanned the paper, swearing softly. “Oh, kid, sometimes I wish I had your memory.” He handed a single sheet of paper to Ukiah, saying, “I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection until now. All I remembered was Hutchinson was going to marry someone rich. This explains a lot.”
It was a print off of a New York Times on-line article. “Boston Debutante to Wed,” it stated. “John Adams and Caroline Woods Whillet (of Dover, MA) announced the engagement of their daughter, Christina Amelia Whillet, to Grant Charles Hutchinson (of Boston), son of Steven and Mary Helen Hutchinson of Glouster. Christina is a graduate of Harvard and the honorary chairperson of the Make-a-Wish Foundation. Grant is a graduate of Boston University, cum laude, and works in Washington, D.C. The couple plans a June wedding next year at Martha’s Vineyard and a honeymoon on the Whillets’ yacht.”
The accompanying photograph was of Hutchinson and Christina, formally dressed and rigidly posed. Knowing Hutchinson’s height, the picture put the earlier photograph of Christina into scale; she was a very small woman, which made her look younger than her twenty-two years of age.
Ukiah checked the date. “They would have been married two months ago if she hadn’t joined the cult.”
“I wonder if he’s gone rogue,” Indigo said. “He could be on vacation and using his federal ID to carry on his investigation. If so, he could make a complete mess of this kidnapping.”
“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about him reporting that you have a possible conflict of interest.”
At the police station, Ukiah gave his statement on his shooting and Kittanning’s kidnapping. After he sat through an artist sketch session to produce pictures of both the male shooter and the female driver, they set him up with a computer running mug shots. He scanned them quickly, checking each face against those locked in to his memory. Females first, since there were fewer, and then the males. Neither face appeared in the computer files, or the old hardbound books.
Having exhausted what was open to the public, he quietly begged Indigo for information normally kept out of public hands. Her lips thinned as he talked.
“I can’t have the Pack smashing their way through this case in a mad frenzy to find Kittanning,” she said. “I want him found as much as you, but not at the cost of human life. Look at what they did today at that bar. A dozen men hospitalized because they happened to be between Sam and the Pack.”
And it could have been worse if Sam hadn’t stopped Rennie.
“I think I can control them if I have something to give them, focus their efforts. I’m not sure what they’ll do if left to their own devices.”
Anger flashed over her face. “Is that a threat?”
“No. It’s just the truth, Indigo. The Pack is going to believe that Hex used a human to take Kittanning until proved otherwise. They’ll do anything to get him back, kill anyone, and level this entire city to rubble, if that is what it takes. And it’s not going to be just the Dog Warriors. If we don’t find him quickly, Rennie will contact the other clans.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll make you a copy of the files. Try to keep the Pack away from the families of the other kidnapped children; they’ve suffered enough already.”
“I will,” he promised. “Can I examine the car?”
Indigo shook her head. “Forensics is still combing it.”
“The plaster is distinctive enough that if you show me where the kidnappers left the car, I could track them.”
“Most likely they drove to the parking lot in the stolen car, abandoned it, and got into a pickup car.”
“They wouldn’t want the pickup car to be seen close to the stolen car. It’s possible that they left other evidence.”
Indigo considered and slowly nodded. “Okay. Let’s see what we can find.”
The kidnappers had chosen their parking garage well. The sprawling warren under Gateway Center had multiple vehicle entrances and pedestrian exits. The automatic gate that let Indigo’s car into the garage was unmonitored.
Max had followed them to the garage with the Hummer but didn’t attempt to slot the extra-wide vehicle through the narrow, twisting passages. Instead, he stayed at street level, waiting for the hunt to work its way aboveground.
Indigo drove down the spiraling ramp to the third level, and then, ignoring multiple signs pointing out exits and lower levels, drove to an empty corner of the garage. Bits of yellow police tape marked where the car had been abandoned.
Indigo stopped the car. “Do you need more light? I can swing the car and put my headlights on the area.”
“No. I see mostly with my hands.”
She parked then in the opposite row, and they got out. The slamming of their car doors echoed through the heavy shadows.
Whereas Max usually either sat quietly, or did his own separate search for details his more experienced eye might pick up, Indigo watched him intently as he crept over the oil-stained cement, searching for the plaster dust. After five minutes, she started to pace.
“You can’t find anything?” She broke her silence after ten minutes.
“Things have been muddied by the police.” By walking over the kidnapper’s footprints, the police created a swathe of dust-covered prints around the car. “Ah, here we go.”
Some ten feet from the confusion around the car, Ukiah found a clear track finally. The plaster-dusted footprints headed off in a meandering trail across the parking garage. Now and again, he found microdots of kidnapper’s blood, confirming that he was following the right man. On the far other side was a steel door protecting a stairwell.
“He went up the stairs.”
Indigo eyed the stainless-steel doorknob. “We could dust the knob, but there’s no way of knowing which of the countless people who used this last might have been the kidnapper.”
Ukiah breathed deep, catching a faint familiar scent. He closed his eyes and focused on it. The metallic bite of blood drew him down, crouching, until he found the blood. “He touched this wall with a bloody hand. He must have opened the door with his right hand, and braced himself without thinking with his left.”
“Perfect!”
The stairwell was lit with a harsh orange light and reeked of urine. The trail went upward three flights. He went slowly, ignoring everything to focus on the plaster and blood. Halfway up the second flight, the wounded kidnapper touched the wall again with the bloody hand. Ukiah pointed it out to Indigo and continued up the stairs. At the top of the steps, the kidnapper hadn’t repeated his mistake with the heavy steel door.
The clear night air was a relief. Ukiah breathed deep to clear out the stench of urine and followed the ghost trail of the plaster to the curb.
A car must have been waiting for the kidnapper, for the trail ended there abruptly. Ukiah crouched there, on the edge of the sidewalk, scanning the buildings all around them. From cameras set up in ATMs to those hooked to the Internet, any city street had a chance of being under surveillance. Either the kidnappers had chosen the corner because of the lack of cameras, or they had just gotten lucky; there were none in sight.
Indigo called for a forensic team to lift the fingerprints they’d found so far.
Max had been slowly circling the block, waiting. He parked illegally and got out of the Hummer as Ukiah sifted through the grit lining the curb. “End of trail?”
“Yeah.”
Max came and laid a hand on Ukiah’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”
Indigo exuded new energy when she returned from supervising the forensic team. “The kidnapper smudged up the print on the lowest level once he realized what he did, and he wiped down the doo
rknobs, but the print on the second flight is perfect. With the prison tattoo, and this much care in cleaning up the fingerprints, he has to be on file.”
“One hopes,” Max said. “Ukiah won’t admit it, but he’s about to crash.” Ukiah gave Max a disgusted look. “Sleep, and tomorrow we’ll nail this guy.”
Ukiah opened his arms to Indigo and she stepped into his hug. “Call me as soon as you know anything.”
“I will,” she promised. “It will be a couple of hours to lift the print, get it processed, and pull files on this bastard. Go to the office and get some rest.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bennett Detective Agency, Shadyside, Pennsylvania
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
The Dog Warriors invaded the office the next morning. Rennie found Ukiah asleep in his bed and shook him awake. Rennie and the Dog’s presence conflicted with the familiarity of the office; Ukiah blinked at the Pack leader for a moment in confusion.
“What are you doing here?” Ukiah sat up and rubbed salt-laden sleep out of his eyes. His nightmares had been replays of Kittanning’s kidnapping, and in his dreams, as he lay helpless on the floor, he wept.
“We need to talk.” Rennie pushed a mug of hot cocoa into Ukiah’s hands. “And you need to eat more before you’re fully healed.”
“I’m fine.” Ukiah drank the cocoa. It had been made by heating whole milk to nearly scalding and stirring in as much sugar as the liquid would hold—a protein and carbohydrate shotgun.
Max appeared in the bedroom door, dressed only in sweatpants and shoulder holster, pistol in hand. He holstered his pistol, seeing Rennie. “What’s up?”
“We need to pool resources,” Rennie said. “We’ve scoured the area and found nothing so far.”
Hellena was in the kitchen, the obvious source of the hot cocoa and the scent of fresh coffee; she studied maps of Pittsburgh and southwestern Pennsylvania spread out on the kitchen table. Smack and Heathyr guarded the back door; Ukiah could sense Bear and two others in the front foyer. The rest of the Dog Warriors orbited the mansion at a distance.
Max pulled the first-aid kit out of the front closet and set it on the counter. “Let’s see how you’re doing under the bandages.”
Pulling up the bandage tapes was nearly as painful as getting shot, and longer in duration. Max frowned at the gaping exit wound. “You’re not healed as much as I hoped.”
“I just haven’t eaten enough.” Ukiah sorted through the box to pull out the largest pad. “I took a lot of soft tissue damage.”
“He’s pushed himself too hard to heal,” Rennie stated, refilling Ukiah’s cocoa. “He needs protein, and lots of sleep.”
“I’m fine,” Ukiah snapped. “Finding Kittanning is what matters.”
“Yeah,” Max said in a tone that meant that he agreed with Ukiah to a point, that being probably where Ukiah’s own existence was in danger. Max squeezed out a half ounce of antibiotic to smear over the bruised raw wound. “Hold still. This is going to hurt.”
It did, but not nearly as much as taking the tape off. Ukiah winced, and focused on shuffling through the maps. The problem was no one map would show all the areas involved in detail. He unfolded the Allegheny County map and placed it center on the table, and then arranged the maps from the counties surrounding it.
“What did your love tell you?” Rennie asked as Max finished bandaging the groove across Ukiah’s back.
“General details,” Ukiah admitted. “If this was an Ontongard case, Indigo would cooperate fully, but she doesn’t want you rampaging over the case if it’s just humans involved. She seems to think you’ll hospitalize everyone remotely connected with the case.”
“Perhaps,” Rennie said. “They’ll get better. Finding Kittanning is what is important.”
Sam limped down the back steps. “Are we talking more of the guys as in Oregon?”
“It was a human that you winged yesterday,” Rennie said. “Nor would it be likely that a Get would leave the cub.”
Ukiah nodded. “He was still bleeding when they ditched the car downtown.” He found the bag of plaster dust and handed it to Rennie. “This is the common link to all the kidnappings. It was on the kidnapper’s shoes, heavy, like he’d walked through a lot of it.”
Rennie opened the bag, and sampled the plaster dust. “I don’t know the house.” He scraped his finger clean and handed the bag to Hellena to pass among the others. “What do you know about the other children?”
“Indigo let me glance over the files. She’ll make copies and get them to me later.” Ukiah rooted through the drawer under the phone and found a multipack of colored self-stick flags. “There were four children kidnapped before Kittanning. Two boys and two girls, all under the age of one year old. All of the other children were in foster care, which, besides their age, was the only common denominator.”
“First baby was Jonah, male, white, nine months old. His mother was found growing marijuana in her backyard in Penn Hills.” He marked the approximate street address of the boy’s home with a red flag. The FBI had already screened the neighbors; it was unlikely the Pack would find anything new but trouble. He scanned the map until he found Jonah’s kidnapping site. “He was in a foster home in Monroeville, a ranch house. He was taken from a bedroom while the foster mother did laundry in the basement. The car was stolen from Robinson Town Center Mall parking lot.” This required a second map of Fayette County, west of Allegheny County. “It was a silver Ford Escort, and probably where they swapped the license plates of the stolen car with the plates of a second silver Escort; that went unnoticed until after the kidnapping. The car was abandoned in Oakland, at the underground Soldiers and Sailors parking garage. That was August twenty-fifth.
“The second baby was Isaiah, male, black, ten months old.” He used yellow flags for the second kidnapping. “His mother was busted for crack possession in East Liberty. He was fostered in Homestead, and was kidnapped while his foster mother was shopping at the local supermarket on August twenty-ninth. They used a white Chevy Neon from Cranberry Plaza parking lot.” A flag in Butler County, north of Allegheny County. “And abandoned at the USX building.
“The third child was Kimmie, female, two weeks shy of a year old. Parents lost custody after false accusations of child abuse; she was supposed to be returned home the day after she was kidnapped.” He put down a blue flag in Bloomfield for Kimmie’s parents, and then Bellevue for the foster home. “She was taken from a screened-in back porch while the foster father answered the phone, September second. A red Escort stolen from Westmoreland Mall parking lot.” A flag in Westmoreland County, east of Allegheny. “And abandoned Mellon Square parking lot. Her body was found at this landfill the day before yesterday. She’d been tortured.”
That raised a growl of anger from the Dogs. Quite frankly he felt like growling too.
“The fourth child was Shiralle, female, appears to be biracial, who was found abandoned at the approximate age of one day old, and is currently five months old.” Ukiah started to mark orange flags on the map. There was no “family home” marker. “She was fostered in Beechview. She was kidnapped September sixth. A white Cambray taken from Clearview Mall in Butler, abandoned at the Gateway Center parking garage.”
Silently he added on Kittanning’s flags in blue. “They’re not sure where the Taurus was stolen from yet. The owners haven’t been reached.”
They stood looking at the flags.
“All the cars were stolen outside of Allegheny County,” Max commented. “They’re using the communications barrier between police departments, added with the confusion of the plates.”
“They’re using the most common color and models of cars to attract as little attention as possible,” Sam said. “The cars are taken from large open lots where the thieves can easily troll for the type of car they want without attracting notice. They abandoned the cars in enclosed lots, where the line of sight is so restricted that the possible witnesses are limited, and in a step or two, it’s possi
ble to completely disassociate yourself from the car.”
Rennie waved a dismissive hand at the maps. “All that’s important is who they are. Does your lady of steel have any leads to whom? Someone they’re watching, waiting for more evidence before confronting?”
“I don’t think so,” Ukiah said after some thought. “Indigo didn’t mention anyone Monday, before I got personally involved. Last night we found a set of fingerprints that might identify the kidnapper. Indigo treated it as the first strong lead they’ve had.”
“What about Homeland Security? Does this have something to do with why he came to talk to you?”
“Maybe,” Ukiah admitted, and told them about the photographs. “Indigo is checking out to see what he’s told us is the truth.”
“What do you know about the Temple of New Reason?” Hellena asked.
Ukiah looked to Max to see if his partner had discovered anything he wanted to discuss openly with the Pack.
“Their public Web site had every crackpot religious theory out there.” Max went to the kitchen desk and opened the middle drawer. “We found their private servers.”
“They had more than one?”
Max nodded. “Two. Private and seriously private.”
“Isn’t the point of being a data haven is they protect their customers?” Sam asked.
“From the law.” Max spread out the paperwork. “I had to promise not to show any of this stuff to Indigo—and consider investing a couple million dollars in their company. The first server seems to be where the Temple does their on-line chats, news groups and such with people who have passed their screening process. These are the possible converts. The server is very squeaky clean, although serious kooky; a convert can hack it and not find anything dubious. This is the cult’s FAQ.”
“Fact?” Rennie picked up the paper. Most of the Dog Warriors had been born before the invention of the telephone; they coped well with technology but the Internet was a foreign world to them.
“Frequently Asked Questions. The document is set up in a question/answer format.” Max read off some of the questions. “How do you pick a true name? What is the armor of God?”