by Maria Pease
Hours passed with no sign of anyone coming or going, and although it was disappointing, it had been a crap shoot, at best. I’d been kneeling on wood for several hours and it was beginning to take its toll, so I decided my efforts may be more useful elsewhere. I packed up and carefully moved down the ladder. As I pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street, my phone buzzed. I snatched it off the seat. Frank asked me to meet him at the office.
Opening the door, I was relieved Chuck wasn’t around. Dealing with him once had been enough for me.
Frank eyed me, got to his feet and grabbed his coat. “Let’s go.”
“Um, where are we going?”
“I need a drink.”
“Kind of early, isn’t it?”
We walked across the street to the Temecula Wine & Beer Garden, taking seats at the bar. Frank ordered a Corona and a shot of whiskey and I went with iced tea. Frank did his shot and ordered another one.
“What’s going on Frank?”
“I don’t know if I can do it.” He stared at the empty shot glass.
“Do what?”
“I don’t think I can get married again.”
Oh, shit. “Why? Did something happen between you and Monique?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Sam, I’m getting divorced for the third time.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe I’m just not husband material.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Frank.”
“Tell me not to do it.”
“No, Frank. I’m not taking responsibility for that decision.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m just stressed out.”
“Maybe you need to take some time and think things over.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, and then as an afterthought, “what the hell does I’m in mean?”
“I got a call from Jan. She said Chanel called her out of the blue and said she’d like me to do a piece on her.”
“I thought she blew you off?”
“She did. I guess she changed her mind.”
“When are you seeing her?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m meeting with Jan later to find out.”
Back at the office, I spotted an email from Jake, asking me to call him right away. I dialed his number and moved out to the balcony, closing the door behind me. The cold wind assaulted me as I waited for him to pick up. After five rings, I was forced to leave a message. I quickly moved back into the warmth of the office and tried to focus on my work. When I saw Jake’s number on my phone, I scooped it up.
He had some new information on Jasmine Langford’s case and told me to get over there right away.
“I’ve got to run up to the Justice Center, Frank.” I grabbed my coat and bag.
When I pulled into the lot, I was feeling emotional, but couldn’t put my finger on why. Sure, I was nervous about the details of Jasmine Langford’s death. After all, she was a kid who somehow ended up being murdered, frozen and dumped like trash. It all sickened me, but the fact that her murderer was still free was just unacceptable.
I made my way across the parking lot and tried to prepare myself. Jake was poring over a file when I peeked in. “Hey.”
“Come on in.”
I moved inside and took a seat. “So, what did you find?”
He shook his head. “Sam, the poor girl was raped and beaten to a pulp, and this was on her neck.” He handed me a photo.
I stared at it, recognizing it right away.
“Sam?”
“Holy shit.”
“Have you seen that before?”
“It’s the same tattoo that Michael and Melody have on their necks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. See the KS in the bar code?”
“Yeah. Any idea what it means?”
“Michael said KS is the big boss. He told us the bar code is how the traffickers brand them.”
“Michael… He’s the missing teenage boy?”
“Yeah, well, he was missing. We got him, Melody, and a few other new girls out. The girls had just been recruited and didn’t know what was going on. They thought they were going to be models. Monique brought the girls here to be interviewed then took them home. Michael and Melody are in a safe house. The two of them had very different experiences, and both are disturbing, to say the least.”
“So, that missing kid led you to a trafficking ring?”
“Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh?”
“Well, I guess we’re going to take it from here. Can you be sure we have all your files and any evidence you’ve collected?”
I was stunned. I wanted to say something, but I was speechless. I was trying to understand what he meant, and at the same time, I felt like he’d ripped the rug out from under me. His phone buzzed and as he reached for it, I turned and walked out.
My mind raced and panic set in. My stomach was now doing flip flops. I needed to talk with Frank and find out what the hell was going on. As a former cop, he’d know what Jake meant.
Winchester Road was a nightmare and as traffic crawled along, I tried to tell myself that everything would be fine. After all, they couldn’t just take my case away, could they?
I bolted up the stairs, fleeing the biting wind and hurried to get inside. Having visitors in the office was unusual, so I was surprised to see Alana and Frank talking with a young mom and her son. “Um, hi.” I turned to hang up my coat.
Frank introduced me to eleven-year-old Justin Bradley and his mom, Rachel. I moved to my desk and listened to their conversation as I shuffled papers around.
It appeared that the boy wanted to hire us to find his stolen dog, Max. As the boy explained what he’d witnessed, Frank took notes. He handed Frank a few photos of Max and asked if we’d take the case.
“Well, we need to check on some things, but we’ll get back to you soon.”
Justin handed Frank a business card. “Okay, I’ll wait for your call.”
The minute the door closed, Alana stood up. “We have to take their case.”
“We need to check out the background information first. The dog could’ve simply run away.”
“But he said that he heard about other dogs disappearing from the neighborhood too,” Alana said.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” He handed Alana the notes, “Go to it.”
“Really?” Alana asked, taking the notes.
“Use my desk,” I told her.
“Thanks.” She hesitated… “How do I find out if there were other dogs stolen?”
“Call the police and animal control, for starters. Ask about any reports of missing dogs. Then check area shelters and Facebook. That should be a good start.”
“Okay.”
“Hey, Frank. Can I talk to you?” I pointed toward the conference room.
“Sure. What’s up?”
I took the seat across from Frank. “I went to see Jake and he showed me a photo of the tattoo they found on the Langford girl’s neck. I confirmed it’s the same as the one branded on Michael and Melody. Then, he made a strange comment.”
'What was it?”
“He said, I guess we’ll be taking it from here.”
Frank sighed. “Oh, shit.”
“What does he mean?”
“Sam, this is a complicated situation.”
“What’s so complicated? I know our cases overlap, but can they just take over our case?”
“Look, Sam. Our case was to find Michael Carson and we’ve done that. The fact that we’ve uncovered a teen trafficking ring in the process doesn’t make it our case.”
“But it is part of our case. A big part!”
“Sam, calm down and let me talk with Captain Foley. He’s got the final say.”
I shook my head. “Wow. All this work and now it might be taken away? That’s not right, Frank.”
“I know it sucks, but the cops outrank us.”
“So, what am I supposed to do now?”
“Let’s check into the dog-napping case,” he said.
Alana hung up the phone. “All four of the people Justin told us about confirmed their dogs had disappeared under unusual circumstances.”
“Did you call all the shelters in the area to see if any of them have been brought in?” I asked.
“Not yet. I’m going to do that now.”
“Let me know what you find out,” Frank told her.
“Frank, I’m going to head out.” I reached for my coat.
“Sure. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’ll make that call and see what we’re looking at. See you tomorrow.”
Pulling out of the lot, I called Jan and she said to head on over to the paper. As I drove, I realized I was clenching my jaw; there was no way I was going to get shut out of my case. I knew getting inside was going to be vital, and I had to do it before anyone had the chance to pull the plug. I figured once I was undercover investigating Chanel, it would be too dangerous for anyone to interfere, including Temecula’s finest.
Arriving at the paper, I was shown to Jan’s office.
“Hey, come on in and have a seat.”
“Thanks. So, what’s up?”
“Chanel called me about doing a story on the company’s upcoming fifteen-year anniversary and the new product line they’ll be releasing. I mentioned to her that an in-depth, behind-the-scenes story would be perfect. We discussed it for a while, and she became pretty excited about the idea. By the time we were done, she was eager to get started right away so it could be out by the anniversary date. I was going to cover it but my editor, Roger, told me about a big story brewing in DC. I had to take it; it’s going to be big. So, I called Chanel back and asked her to consider working with you. I highlighted all the benefits of having a fresh, new writer to work with.”
“What did she say?”
“It worked. She wants to work with you.”
“So, when do I get started?”
“I have to call her with your contact information, so be sure you have an email address and phone number under Laci’s name. She’s savvy and may have a background check done, so we need to be sure Laci’s information is available and there are no red flags.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it and let you know when I’m ready to roll.”
Ted answered on the second ring and after explaining the urgency of the situation, he said he’d have everything ready by morning. I was exhausted from the stress of the situation, so I headed home. I found a package waiting for me at my doorstep and smiled. I stood at my counter and opened it up, examining my new stun gun and pink can of mace.
Pouring a glass of wine, I turned on the television and sank into my couch. My cell buzzed a number of times, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to speak with Frank or Jake until I had my plan underway. The last thing I needed was to have orders thrown at me that I knew I wouldn’t be following.
Chapter 43
I woke early and dressed for the gym. My stress levels were in high gear and I expected that the only thing that would help get them under control, besides some great sex or a couple of valium, was a kickboxing class. I must say, I wasn’t disappointed. Arriving home, I headed straight up to the shower and stood under the hot water for a long time. I wondered how I was going to avoid both Frank and Jake, at least until I could get myself undercover as reporter Laci Connor, working on an exposé of Chanel Pinkay.
When I got the call from Ted telling me Laci’s background was in place and ready to be scrutinized, I was ready for action. With my credentials in order, I called Jan to let her know I was ready to roll. Now, I just had to wait for Chanel to get in touch.
I went into my den and sorted through my notes, placing my index cards on the floor in an orderly fashion. I studied them, looking for any information I may have missed. I noticed a yellow sticky note peeking out from one of the cards. I grabbed my phone and dialed Ted.
“Hey, Ted. Do you remember that paper, the Backpage, that I dropped off with you? Were you able to get any prints off it?”
Ted told me that he had indeed retrieved prints that came back matching both Wally Mason and Cesar Mills, but was waiting for the final report. He expected to have everything within the next day or so and said he’d call me when he received it. Disconnecting, I wrote myself a note to check back with him.
Checking the time, I knew Frank was probably expecting me at the office, but in my attempt to avoid him, I called him with an excuse instead. When he picked up on the first ring, he said a quick hello and proceeded to tell me he was on his way out, but Alana needed to talk with me. Before I had the chance to respond, Alana was on the line. Excitedly, she told me that she had a lead on the dog-napping case, but Frank told her she had to wait for me to check it out.
“Okay. Give me an hour then come on over. You can show me what you have.”
As I picked up my cards off the floor, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important I needed to do to fill in some of the gaps. I stacked the cards one by one and remembered that Frank had planned to get someone to do a more detailed investigation on Stacy Carson. After all, Michael had been very surprised to hear she had been eager to find him and honestly, I found it odd. She was his mother, for God’s sake. I called and learned she was still at the hotel and I wondered how she was holding up. Michael was still in the safe house and since we needed her in the dark, at least for now, going to see her was off limits.
I logged on to my laptop with one goal, to find out more about Stacy Carson. I did a background check, found some financial issues, and decided to dig a little deeper. I checked public records and found that she’d been married and divorced three times, with the last one being finalized less than six months ago. I wanted to know the circumstances of these relationships, so I cross-referenced court records and hit pay dirt.
It turns out that not only was Stacy Carson bad at the marriage thing, but she’d also been arrested twice, under two different names. Stacy Boyd, and S. Jennings– two of her married names. Her first arrest had been possession with the intent to distribute charge. Her second was for solicitation. Searching further, I discovered that she’d also spent some time behind bars. Looking at the prison and date of incarceration, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It turns out that Wally, Cesar and Stacy had all been in prison at the same time, with Stacy in a prison just down the road from where Wally and Cesar had been held.
I printed out the arrest and prison documents for each of them and stared at them. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It was time to find out what the hell was going on. I added my findings to my index cards and made a few notes about what actions to take when my doorbell rang.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door for Alana.
“Hi.”
“Give me just a minute,” I said, making a note to check for any connection between Stacy, Wally and Cesar, other than their shared criminal history.
Alana took a folder out of her bag and laid out the statements concerning the missing dogs. I read through them and it seemed she’d discovered several dog owners in nearby neighborhoods, who had, indeed, witnessed the same white van driving on their streets before their dogs went missing.
“So, can we take Justin Bradley’s case?”
“It looks like a good case. I’ll call Frank to get the okay.” I dialed Frank’s number.
I wasn’t ready to share the information about Stacy Carson– I just didn’t have enough– so I asked Frank if he was able to get anyone to check out Stacy. He told me he’d had to put it on the back burner because of other, more pressing issues to deal with. I wondered if it had anything to do with his secret meetings with Cookie and Hector. Then, I filled Frank in on what Alana had discovered. He agreed that it looked like we had something and gave me permission to get started.
I called Justin and was surprised that he, and not his mother, picked up the phone. I told him we were going to take his case and
asked him to put his mom on the line so I could go over the details. Frank had said she’d left a retainer, just in case, so I told her we’d get back to her when we learned more, reminding her that there were no guarantees.
“Okay, Alana. It looks like you’re taking the lead on this one.”
She smiled. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Wow! My first case! What do we do now?”
“If I were in charge, I’d head over to the neighborhood and check it out. I’d want to ask around and see if anyone saw anything.”
“Okay. Why would anyone want to steal a puppy, anyway?”
“Probably for money. So, where are we going?”
“Morgan Hill. That’s where most of the dogs were stolen.”
It was a short drive over to Morgan Hill, and as we entered the neighborhood, it struck me this was one of the more exclusive neighborhoods. I immediately knew that money had to be behind the missing dogs.
We parked the car and walked up the driveway of Don and Doreen Reid. The file indicated they’d had two dogs stolen. They were both Akita’s and were worth about $4,000.00 dollars each.
Knocking on the door, Mr. Reid invited us inside. He was of medium height and build and looked to be in his early forties. The house was elegant, and I expected the paintings hadn’t been purchased at Target.
As we stood in the foyer, Alana seemed to be at a loss for words, so I stepped in and asked all the pertinent questions. When we left his home, we had several photos of each puppy. They were named, interestingly enough, Yuki and Yoshi. We also got his account of what he thought had happened. He insisted his dogs had been locked in the yard, and with a seven-foot fence, didn’t think there was any way they could’ve gotten out on their own.
The next four homes we visited had very similar stories. Each had an expensive purebred, and each insisted their gates had remained locked with no way for a puppy to escape. One common denominator seemed to be a white van with a house painting logo on it driving around the neighborhood. It was hard to identify the exact times the dogs were taken but none had been left out at night, so any thefts had been done during daytime hours.