by Peg Brantley
Mex touched the steering wheel button to turn off the music.
“I love her,” Cade complained.
“I want to talk before we get to Denver.”
“I’m listening to you. Exclusively. But I could probably listen to Madeleine too.”
“Odds are this is some kind of ransom play,” Mex ignored her. “Daddy’s got the money and they’ve got the kid.”
“Maybe, but why hasn’t he heard from someone? That doesn’t feel right. It’s been too long. Kidnappers who are looking for a payoff tend to act before worried parents can even think about contacting the authorities.”
“So if it’s not ransom, what?”
“Could be she was looking for a home. A place to belong. Get some answers, ya know?” Cade’s voice grew stronger. “Could be we find out her home life sucked and suddenly there was a guy who made her feel treasured and promised her some kind of spiritual family. Enlightenment. At the very least people who appreciated her.”
“A cult.”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Why?” Mex asked. “What’s their end-game?”
“Does Alexis have her own money or at least access to some?”
“Not that I know of. But it’s worth looking into.”
“I bet she has at least one credit card with a sweet limit.”
“Okay, okay. Point taken. I’ll ask.” Mex shook his head.
“What? What’s wrong with this angle?” Cade asked.
“Let’s say she has a couple credit cards. Really? That’s gonna make it worth the risk? It’s all too easy to track unless they kill her and take off.”
“That’s not the way it works. They’ll access what cash they can with the cards and then determine what other assets are in her name they can sell. Finally they’ll appeal to Mommy and Daddy.”
“And when that’s over?”
“They’ll find ways to use her,” Cade reached for a piece of muffin from the bag sitting between them. “Does she have any special skills?”
“Not that I know of.”
“We need to find out. Most cults are self-sustaining operations. She’s too pretty to put to work in the fields, and I’d bet she knows how to clean about as well as I know how to man a rocket, but she could work in the office or something else. In fact, they’d probably use her first to see if she could recruit any of her friends. She has a nice face for promotional material.”
“Okay,” Mex picked up his mug and drained it. “There’s still a lot we need to find out.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.” Cade turned the music back on.
They passed the 6th Avenue exit and Cade looked over at Mex. “What if it’s none of the things we’re used to dealing with? We’re already pretty sure she didn’t run away. But what if she wasn’t kidnapped? What if she didn’t join a cult?”
“Mr. Anderson, does your new case have anything to do with the girl you rescued last year?” The reporter shoved a microphone toward his face. The trees and flowers in the center of Denver’s 16th Street Mall provided colorful background to the news bite.
He really wanted to call the reporter an idiot but reluctantly decided that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “This case is totally separate. A young American girl is missing. Neither she nor her family have anything to do with Mexican drug cartels.” He looked into the camera. “If you have any information that could help bring Alexis Halston home to her family, please notify the authorities at the number showing on your screen, or call me at 970-555-9786.”
Mex had agreed to this news conference in Denver because he knew it could help the case. He also knew he’d get a slew of crap calls, but that was part of the job. Cade would help him sift through the messages from people who were only seeking attention. He also couldn’t help thinking about the three-year-old boy Steven and Adele Halston had already lost. The connection to his own lost family seared his heart.
He’d been there. The memory whispered to him. He wanted to shut down and disappear. Instead he pried the whisper away with the promise to revisit it again later, when he had time to feel. When he had time to cry. When he had time to lose time.
“You were perfect.” Cade hugged his arm as they walked away from the cameras and the talking heads.
“You know you’re gonna have to help me field the crazies.”
“A given.”
“It seems to me I promised you fantastic Italian food.”
“Also a given.”
Twenty minutes later the pair was in a booth at Nonna’s, a wonderful restaurant in an unassuming strip center at Leetsdale and Monaco.
“It’s been a while, Mister,” the waitress said to Mex.
“Not so long you forgot me, Patty.”
“Not ever likely.” She took their wine order and a starter of calamari then moved to take care of diners at another table.
While they waited Mex’s phone buzzed. The call-ins were starting. He glanced at the numbers, but none were familiar. He and Cade would sort through them either tonight or tomorrow. While he knew one tip could make a difference in an investigation, he always felt like a puppet on parade at news conferences. Asking the crazies to contact him. Hoping for that one solid lead. Mex tamped down his hopes.
Patty uncorked their Primitivo and poured a sample for Mex. He took a sip then handed the glass to Cade. “What do you think?”
Cade smiled, took a sip. “Tastes good to me.”
Three minutes later, dipping into the calamari, Mex’s phone buzzed again. This time the number looked familiar. He scrolled through his missed calls to see multiple attempts from one source. He looked at Cade, shrugged, and took the call.
“Oh my God, is it you?”
“This is Mex Anderson. Do you have information for me relating to the Alexis Halston disappearance?”
“No, but I—”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t have time to—”
“Wait! My daughter’s missing too. And no one is paying attention.”
“How do you know your missing daughter has anything to do with Alexis Halston?”
“I don’t. ’Cept neither of them should ever’ve gone missing.”
Mex glanced at Cade. Today, her green eyes were smudged with enough brown to make them smoky. They were watching him intently, willing him to do the right thing. And she’d only heard his side of the conversation. Even if he hadn’t been inclined to continue, there was no way he could shrug this mother off when Cade was looking at him that way.
He signaled Patty. “Do you have somewhere we can have a private conversation?”
The waitress nodded and ushered them to the owner’s office.
Once inside, Mex hit the speaker button. “Listening with me is Acadia LeBlanc, my partner. She may have questions for you as we proceed. If we believe we might be able to help, we’ll meet personally.” Mex reached for some paper and a pen. “Tell me about your daughter. Why shouldn’t she have gone missing?”
When they finished, Mex clicked off his phone and laid down his pen. “What do you think?”
“I hate what I’m thinking,” Cade said.
“Probably the same thing I am, but you go first.”
“On the surface, we have two girls from completely different backgrounds. Alexis comes from an affluent two-parent family who live in what’s considered a better part of town. And she’s learned to manage independently when her parents don’t have time for her. Jayla lives in affordable housing with her struggling mom and siblings from different fathers, and they’ve all learned to manage independently when Mom entertains at home. No connection, right?”
Mex nodded.
“But when you look closer,” Cade’s voice warmed to her topic, “when you look closer, they are totally similar. Two young people who feel disconnected. We know that Alexis’s father is never home, always away on business. And don’t tell me you haven’t been able to intuit that her mom has issues of her own, issues that create a distance between her and her daughter. Drugs? Alcohol? Bo
th? It’s there.” She paused and looked at Mex.
Again, Mex nodded.
“Jayla’s family is as dysfunctional as Alexis’s. Mom is worried about both money and men. Neither of these girls had an anchored home life strong enough to give them confidence to pay attention to their instincts when something or someone around them wasn’t right.”
Mex picked up his pen and scribbled. “Where are you going with this?”
“Same place you are.” Cade shook her head. “We’ve got two girls whose lives might not be perfect, but who had no reason to bolt. Alexis Halston had privilege and position. Her parents might suck, but leaving them would mean leaving her meal ticket. Unless we learn something contrary to everything we know so far, she’s not walking away from her family’s financial support. Do you agree?”
“Yeah.”
“And Jayla Thomas, also lacking a qualified parent, was doing well in school. She had hope for her future. She had challenges, but she was coping. Agree?”
“Yeah.”
“So what do you have when young girls go missing involuntarily and there’s been no ransom demand?” Cade looked at Mex. She waited until his eyes met hers. “What you have is a different kind of abduction. Trafficking.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“So what do we do?”
“Let me think a minute.” Mex got up and peeked out the office door. He caught Patty’s attention and asked her to bring him a double bourbon. “This is gonna get tricky.”
“Yeah. So what do we do?” Cade repeated.
“We need Darius to get into the trafficking system. Know the game. Know the players. And we’re gonna need to get in fast.”
“You told me he was leaving to sign books in California or somewhere.”
“Never mind that. He’ll want this next book. Leave him to me.”
* * *
“Hey, man. I can’t just up and leave,” Darius said in his soft bass. “I’m contractually obligated.”
“Your publisher is lucky to have you. You were doing fine on your own. Tell your publisher this is a one-time shot, and give them a first right of refusal on the new book. You want to be here because things are unfolding and you’ll be at the center of the information.”
“Big?”
“Big.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Mex hung up the phone and paced. He hated it when the star in a movie had a “gut” feeling. It seemed like a weak way to work the plot. But now, his gut was singing. The disappearance of the girl from one of the wealthiest parts of town was related to the disappearance of the girl from one of the poorest. The connection between the two is that neither girl appears to have left voluntarily.
“C’mon, Mex. Let’s go back to our table and order,” Cade said.
Patty returned the calamari she’d kept warm in the kitchen. “You guys take the longest time to make up your minds about what you want to order.”
Cade laughed while Mex looked at his cell, willing it to ring.
“We’ll have two of the salmon,” Cade decided for them. “Don’t fuss with me, Mex Anderson. You should eat more fish.” She looked at Patty. “And more bread, please.”
Mex’s phone rang. “Yeah, Darius. Are you in?”
“I’m in.”
Mex smiled when he heard the excitement in his friend’s voice.
“What’s next?” Darius asked.
“Get the new contact with Greenwood PD immediately and exercise your DPD muscle. We’ve got another missing girl and need to know everything there is to know about trafficking in Denver.”
“I hope you mean the human kind rather than the car kind. My publisher wouldn’t be too happy to yank me out of book signings for a traffic report.”
“I do. But I’m tellin’ you Darius, by the time we’re finished, you might wish for the car story.” Mex took a sip of wine. “Get down to Denver. Tonight. Cade and I are at the Ritz-Carlton. We’ll book a room for you, the one adjoining ours if we can. Tomorrow we’re meeting with the mom of the other missing girl, and I want your eyes and ears there with us.”
Mex was about to end the call when Cade got his attention. “Oh, yeah. How are your wife and the new baby doing?”
Cade rubbed her ear and smiled.
“We’re all doing fine. Pamela’s mom is here to help because of my book signing trip. She’ll probably be glad to have me out of her hair for longer than a few days.”
“Okay. Get here. Get as much sleep as you can. I’ll want to get an early start, but I also want you on top of things. Breakfast at seven?”
“Can we make it eight? I probably won’t hit the hotel until two or three in the morning. Explaining things to Pamela could take a bit. She’s into these book signing gigs, even if she isn’t actually there. In her mind she’s got every book I sign as adding so much cash to pay for three college tuitions. And I want to make a few calls before I leave. With luck, I’ll receive relevant intel overnight.”
* * *
“PJ, honey,” Darius said, “it’s not like I’m losing any sales. Well, maybe a few. But not enough to cut seriously into our budget.”
“But you were supposed to be there. Signing books. Not tagging along with Mex again.”
“You forget, tagging along with Mex is what created the book I’m signing in the first place. Tagging along with Mex is what has gotten us this far, and what might give us the next income producer. And baby, two income producers are better than one.”
“Does it really matter what I think? You’ve made up your mind.”
Darius dipped his head before meeting his wife’s eyes. “Yeah, I guess I have. But if you insist, I can make a couple of phone calls and everything will be back on schedule.” He grabbed his wife’s hands. “Up to you, PJ. I’m ready to do whatever you want me to do.”
Pamela tugged her hands away and hugged her waist.
Darius waited. Hoping against hope, but ready to make sure the love of his life remained happy.
“Do you know one of the reasons I married you, Darius Johnson?”
“Other than you were madly in love with me? That you couldn’t get enough of my sexy self? That you couldn’t live without me? And we could do the PJ-DJ thing?”
“Other than those, one of the reasons was because when you were committed to something, when your moral compass stood solidly in one direction, you were fearless. Nothing else mattered.” She grabbed his hands. “And I’ll be damned if I make you reconsider your heart. You tell Mex he owes me. Again.”
“You’re okay then?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. Unless you get killed. Then I’ll be pissed and there’ll be hell to pay.”
Darius grabbed her face and kissed her. Hard. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Not enough.”
As he reached the door, she called him back. He knelt beside her, certain she’d changed her mind. Instead, the woman of his dreams whispered, “Don’t say a word to Mama. She pretty much thinks you’re a shit for going to a couple of book events in California. She doesn’t have to know anything about this.”
Darius kissed her again. “I agree. Mum’s the mama-word.”
The state capital is the nation’s bull’s-eye: one long day’s drive to Juarez or Saskatchewan; 10 tedious hours on the Great Plains to Kansas City, Mo.; 13 brutal hours across the desert to Phoenix. Denver is a convenient hub for the comings and goings of kids indentured to magazine sales crews or migrant farm workers in bondage to debt.
—Moving in the Right Direction, by Leslie Petrovski, January 30, 2014
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Greenwood Village was a high-end community in the metro area. Located south of the City and County of Denver, it boasted upscale businesses and expensive residential areas. The zip code itself could take a boring, old tract home and put it out of reach of most buyers.
The police department had fewer than ninety employees, including administrative staff, and only two of them were minorities. While the
department might work in an affluent and relatively crime-free area, every employee took their job seriously.
Detective Les Franklin, one of the minorities, copied information from the Alexis Halston incident board to a notebook. Right now there was only one board and it was pretty empty. They were three days in and scratching for anything that could turn into a lead. By the end, there would be multiple boards, and there would be no way to copy the data because there would be too much information thrown up in sloppy handwriting and cryptic shorthand. Sometimes the simple act of transferring details of a case onto paper gave him ideas to explore. He needed ideas on this one. The pressure to get fast answers was enough to create brain-freeze.
An hour ago his commander called and told him to switch on the news. Steven Halston had brought a PI into the case. Franklin wanted to check out this Mex Anderson character. He found some PIs easy to work with, assets even, but a lot of the privates felt they needed to earn their fees. Ultimately they got in the way, bungled evidence and jeopardized not only the legal case, but sometimes even the prospect of finding whoever or whatever they were looking for to begin with.
The detective closed his notebook and booted up his computer. Did Mex Anderson have any inkling of how law enforcement worked?
Thirty minutes later he’d learned about Mex’s law enforcement life in Mexico, how he’d refused the cartel bribes and lost his family as a result. There was more meat to the stories about Anderson tracking down the missing daughter of a drug cartel leader. Franklin searched in vain for a connection between the murders of Anderson’s family and the drug lord he helped, but he found nothing, and finally ordered a copy of the book written by Darius Johnson about the rescue. Murdered Family, Missing Girl seemed to be selling well and had some good reviews.