Keri Locke 02-A Trace of Muder

by Blake Pierce

  She searched the area for the other half of her team. It took a minute before she found someone acceptable. Finally she saw her stand-in—a chunky guy in his early forties with plastered down blond hair and a turtleneck sweater. He was sitting on a bench by a fountain, scrolling through his phone as he finished a sandwich.

  She only had ten minutes until the designated time and had to move fast. Walking up to the sandwich guy, she put on her most charming smile. She stood over him for a second, waiting for him to notice her. When he did, he seemed startled, which was what Keri was going for.

  “Hey there,” she said as sweetly as she could.

  “Hi?” he asked more than said.

  “Are you busy right now?”

  “I was just finishing my lunch. I have to be back at work at one thirty.”

  “Oh, where do you work?”

  “At GameStop.”

  “Cool. Anyway, it sounds like you still have a few minutes. I was wondering if you could do me a teensy favor?”

  “What is it?” he asked warily.

  “It’s going to sound weird. But it’s harmless. And if you do it, I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”

  “I don’t know. This sounds sketchy.” He looked like he was about to bolt.

  “Listen. I’ll tell you the favor. If you think it’s too crazy, just say no. But if it just sounds standard weird and you say yes, you get a hundred bucks. Nothing to lose, right?”

  “Tell me the favor and I’ll see.”

  “I want you to go over to that guy,” she said, pointing at the woodworker. “You need to get him to put on this red shirt and go sit down in a metal chair by the sculpture near the end of the block up there. You can’t mention me or even look at me. The guy has to think it was your idea.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because you’re going to give him one hundred dollars,” Keri said in her best spokesmodel voice.

  “Why don’t you ask him to do it yourself and save a hundred bucks?”

  “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Randall.”

  “Randy, I’m Carol, by the way. You may be a little too smart for your own good. I have my reasons. All you need to know is that if you successfully get him to do what I asked, you get five twenties. Are you up for it or not?”

  “I guess so.”

  “What a trouper. Now there’s one more little thing.”

  “I knew there was a catch,” Randall said indignantly.

  “It’s not a catch. You just need to tell him that he has to sit in the chair at exactly one thirty and he needs to stay there until at least one forty-five. If anyone approaches him, he should give the person this note. He’s not to read it. Now that’s only seven minutes away, so you better get cracking.”

  Randall took the money and folded note and started to head over to the other guy when Keri thought of an added incentive.

  “Hey, Randy, if you make this happen, I’ll give you my number.” She winked for emphasis, fighting down her gag reflex.

  His beleaguered expression changed to a combination of excitement and fearfulness. But it seemed to do the trick. He nodded and walked toward Woody with what appeared to be more purpose.

  She moved behind the fountain and watched as Randy GameStop chatted up Woody. As she suspected, Woody didn’t need much convincing. The moment he saw the money he was all in. He put on the shirt, snagged the bills and note, and immediately headed in the direction of the chair.

  “He went for it,” Randy said when he returned.

  “I kind of figured. Did you tell him to sit down at exactly one thirty p.m.?”

  “Just like you said,” Randy assured her. “So can I get my money now?”

  “Of course,” she said, handing him the bills.

  “And your number—can I still get that?”

  “You know what, Randy, why don’t you give me yours? You seem like a really good guy. But a girl can’t be too careful these days.”

  “But you promised,” Randy whined.

  “Don’t you have to be at work in five minutes? I don’t want you to get in trouble, Randy. Give me your number and I promise I’ll get in touch, okay?”

  Randy gave it to her, although his sour expression indicated he had no confidence that she’d call. When he headed off, Keri made her way as quickly as she could to the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf across from the metal chair, where she could watch events unfold without being seen.

  As she walked, she texted Castillo to find out if she’d found a good observation post. The reply came quickly.

  “On roof of movie theater. Watching you walk now. Saw you with the boys. Assume I’m scoping red shirt?”

  Keri responded just as fast.

  “And anyone who approaches him.”

  Keri stepped inside the coffee shop and found a small window table where she sat restlessly, trying to look casual. She pretended to read the business section of the LA Times, while she was really focused on Woody in the red shirt standing a few feet from the chair. She glanced at her watch for the third time in the last three minutes. It was 1:28 p.m. The meet was supposed to happen in two minutes. She sent Castillo one last text.

  “Going dark to stay focused. Keep me apprised.”

  At 1:30 p.m. exactly, Woody sat down. Since he didn’t know what to do beyond that, he mostly looked around cluelessly, note in hand, waiting to be approached.

  Keri scoured the area for anyone who looked even vaguely like the man who’d abducted Evie five years ago. But no one even came close.

  Even with her sunglasses on, she made sure to look down at the paper intermittently. If the Collector had really come, he was probably scoping out everyone as well. She had no real expectations that the man who took her daughter would just walk up to Woody and say “Hi, I steal kids for a living. How may I help you?”

  And if he was there, the Collector needed to know that his potential client, unless the person was an idiot, wouldn’t actually sit in that chair. That’s why she’d offered up Woody, with his head bopping around like a caffeinated squirrel. Even before he read her note, she was sending the Collector a message that his potential client was careful enough to send a sub.

  After fifteen uneventful minutes, Woody got up and walked away, looking confused but generally happy. He’d just made $100 for sitting in a chair.

  Keri’s phone buzzed and she glanced at it. It was a text from Castillo:

  “I’ve got nothing. No one approached. Was going to follow red shirt in case someone makes contact later. Cool?”

  Keri typed back:

  “Yes, thanks. Going to keep eyes on the chair. Keep me posted.”

  Keri sat there for another forty-five minutes, just in case. Finally, she gave up. As she prepared to leave, she called Castillo.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Nothing. He walked to some bar and met a few friends. He’s been playing pool for the last twenty minutes. I’m sorry, Detective Locke.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Keri said, forcing down the catch in her throat. “It was always a long shot. Thanks anyway. I owe you one. And Castillo, please remember—”

  “This is just between us,” the young officer said, reading her mind. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

  Keri hung up and returned to her car, typing out a quick e-mail to the Collector on the way back that said simply “where were you?”

  It wasn’t until she closed the door of the Prius and was cocooned in the silence of the parking garage that the full impact of the failure hit her. She’d known intellectually that the meet was unlikely to bear fruit but part of her had hoped anyway. Now that hope had been dashed.

  Before she knew what was happening, she felt massive, chest-wracking sobs consume her. Her whole body shook, rattling her ribs, her shoulder, and everything else. But she couldn’t stop it and she didn’t care. She just gave in to the all-consuming pain, crying until there was no water left for tears.

  And then she was driving, not even
entirely sure where she was headed, letting her pain and her fury and her most primal instincts guide her wherever they wanted. When she finally stopped, she looked up to see where she was. It took a second to register but once she recognized the place, she knew why she had come here and what she had to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Keri, raw with rage and numb to everything else, walked purposefully through the huge lobby atrium of the massive office tower where her ex-husband worked, ignoring the security guard who called after her. She punched the elevator button and waited impatiently.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to say to Stephen when she saw him. But she felt like she’d just had Evie ripped from her a second time. And despite their differences, he was the one person in the world who could understand what she was going through right now. And he might be the only one who could help.

  Just as the elevator arrived, the guard caught up to her. He was a squat, doughy guy in his late twenties with a weak mustache and watery eyes.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to sign in. Please come back to the security desk.”

  She stepped into the elevator without a word, flashed him her badge, and pushed the button for the forty-sixth floor. The guard was still squinting to read her ID when the doors closed on him.

  The two women standing next to her, both in their fifties, could sense the fury emanating from her and inched uncomfortably to the far corner of the elevator. Neither made eye contact. Keri didn’t care. When the doors opened at the seventeenth floor they scurried out as quickly as they could. Keri watched them go with mild amusement.

  As she stepped out on the forty-sixth floor, she could tell that, despite showing her badge, security had already warned the receptionist about her arrival. The young woman looked barely old enough to vote. She stood up, partially blocking the fancy vanity logo for the company, ACA, or the Agency for Creative Artists.

  “May I help you?” the girl asked, her voice wavering.

  “Yes. I’m here to see my ex-husband, Stephen Locke. No need to buzz him. I know the way.”

  She started walking down the hallway of the Century City talent agency she hadn’t visited since before she and Stephen got divorced. Since then, he’d gotten remarried to a young starlet, had a little boy with her, and been promoted to the head of the agency’s TV department. But she knew he’d still have the same office as before. Stephen hated change.

  The receptionist was trying desperately to keep up with her but had trouble because of her five-inch heels. By the time Keri got to Stephen’s door, the poor girl was a good fifteen paces back.

  Stephen was standing behind his desk, wearing a headset, talking quickly and animatedly waving his hands about. He looked much the same as the last time she’d see him, almost two years ago.

  His longish, wavy brown hair fell casually across his face and he wore thin, stylish glasses. He looked trim and healthy and the bags he always had under his eyes when they were together were gone.

  When he looked up and saw Keri, he froze for a moment before regaining his composure.

  “I’m going to have to call you back,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. Then he hung up and took off the headset.

  The receptionist had finally caught up and stopped in the doorway next to Keri.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Locke. She just stormed right by me.”

  “It’s okay, Brandi,” he said.

  “Security is on their way up.”

  “That’s all right. You can cancel that. Ms. Locke isn’t a security risk. You can leave us be. Can you close the door behind us, please?”

  “Yes sir,” Brandi said and did as he asked as Keri stepped inside.

  They looked at each other for a long second before speaking. Now that she was actually here, Keri wasn’t sure how to begin.

  “Keri, this is a surprise. I heard about your run-in with that guy who kidnapped the senator’s daughter. You’re looking pretty good considering I heard you were hospitalized for a while.”

  “Thanks,” she said, ignoring the fact that he’d never even called to check on her. She needed to stay in control and resentment wouldn’t help with that. “You’re looking well.”

  “Thank you. I’ve turned into a bit of a CrossFit fanatic. What can I do for you?”

  “I need your help, Stephen,” she said, not wasting any time.

  “With what?” he asked warily.

  “I have a strong lead on the man I think took Evie. But I can’t use department resources to go after him. So I need access to yours.”

  Keri watched Stephen take a moment to let it sink in.

  “What do you mean? Why can’t the department help?”

  She could already tell he was getting his guard up. This wasn’t going how she’d hoped it would go. She’d been in such a rush to get here that she hadn’t thought through what to do next. Now she was committed. She’d have to be more forthcoming than she wanted.

  “The methods I used to get the lead weren’t totally legal,” she admitted. “If I go to my lieutenant, I’ll have to explain where I got the information. He won’t be able to authorize it and I might get arrested myself.”

  “Jesus, Keri, what did you do?” he asked. His face had that same quizzical expression he wore so often when they were together. He’d seemed baffled by her through much of their marriage and apparently nothing had changed.

  “I really can’t say any more than I already have. You could get in trouble if you knew. But there’s nothing wrong with you, as a private citizen, providing resources to investigate a lead. That’s what I need from you—money and the willingness to use it.”

  “How would you use it?” he asked, clearly intrigued despite his apprehension.

  “I’d hire a tech expert to do some digital searching. I’d also need a full-service investigative agency with human and surveillance resources, one with experience trailing subjects without being detected. I know of a couple of quality options.”

  Keri could tell that he was feeling overwhelmed. But Stephen got easily overwhelmed by most things that didn’t involve making deals for his clients. And she didn’t have time to hold his hand through this. She needed to get the process started soon. So, despite his obvious unease, she pressed on.

  “In addition, I’d need walking around money I can pass out to people in the abduction underworld, people who might have useful information. And I’d need it all quick. My lead is time-sensitive. Twenty-four hours from now, it might go cold.”

  Stephen sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. Keri wanted to shake him, to scream at him that he should be jumping at their first real chance to find their daughter’s kidnapper.

  Instead, she stood quietly, waiting for him to pull it together. Stephen had a habit of shutting down emotionally when things got bad. She hoped he could rein in that instinct this time.

  After what felt like forever, he looked up at her. Studying his eyes, she knew his answer before he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Keri. But I just can’t. I can’t be involved in something that is so legally questionable.”

  “I’m not asking you to do anything legally questionable,” she insisted. “I’m basically asking for a loan. It just so happens that it’s a loan that could help find our daughter.”

  Stephen sighed deeply before responding.

  “I know part of you believes that,” he said. “And part of me wants to as well. But I think that deep down, you know the truth. Evie’s never coming back. And the sooner you make your peace with that, the sooner you can start to heal.”

  Keri felt the anger start to bubble up inside her and tried to force it down.

  If I blow up at him, he’ll never help.

  “Stephen, what will help me heal is getting our daughter back. Short of that, I’ll even take knowing what really happened to her. Giving me this money can help me achieve that and it in no way impedes your ‘healing.’”

  She knew that last sarcastic line wa
s counterproductive but she could feel her control starting to slip away. Stephen, as usual, remained impassive.

  “Keri. You’re obsessed. Think about what you’re doing. You took a job that requires you to search for missing children. Every day you go into work and rip off the same scab over and over again. It’s not good for you.”

  He said it with such bland aloofness that she wanted to punch him. She used to love how his cool reserve tempered her perpetual hot-headedness. But now, without Evie to smooth out the edges between them, she couldn’t stand him. His emotionless condescension was too much to bear.

  “Are you going to give me the money or not?” she asked one last time.

  “I’m sorry, Keri.”

  Hearing that, the last vestiges of restraint disappeared and she let herself go, saying the words she’d wanted him to hear for years now.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that you care more about your reputation than your child. We both know that you aren’t even sure you want Evie back. It would be too disruptive to your perfect world to have an emotionally damaged thirteen-year-old back in your life. It’d be too raw for you. After all, you’re set, right? You’ve got your actress wife. You’ve got your little replacement child. How old is little Sammy now—two? And Shalene doesn’t want to be a stepmom to a girl she’s never met and who might require extra attention. It’s all too messy, right, Stephen?”

  There was a long, thick stretch of silence between them before Stephen finally spoke.

  “I think you should go,” he said.

  “Yeah, I guess I should. No reason to stick around. But remember, when I find her, and I will find her, your daughter’s going to ask what you did to help. And you’ll have to explain to her that you didn’t do a damn thing. And why? Because it was inconvenient.”

  She left, slamming the heavy door behind her so hard that a painting fell off the hallway wall, shattering the glass. She stormed back to reception where two security guards were waiting. When they saw her, both of them stepped aside without a word, letting her enter the elevator alone. The doors closed but Keri waited until it had starting going down before she began screaming in helpless fury.