by Peg Brantley
He finally found a parking place, a full two blocks away from Cedar and Hyde. The exercise would do him good. That’s what everyone told him.
The small shop had an inviting entrance and an atmosphere that, while laid back and casual, screamed expensive. Clothing was racked and stacked between artful and engaging displays. While someone else might have packed the tiny space to its gills with inventory, the person or persons behind Cedar and Hyde had figured out how to balance the feeling of availability with exclusivity.
“Can I help you find something?”
“You have some great items here. I’m gonna have to let my friend know.”
“Are you looking for something to surprise her?”
“Well, no. Not really. At least not today. The reason I’m here is to talk to you about one of your customers.”
The salesgirl looked at him closely. “You’re here about Alexis Halston, aren’t you? I’ve seen the news. It’s terrible.”
“She would be the one. Her dad hired me to help find her.”
“Lexi hasn’t been in for a few weeks. But I can tell you there wasn’t anything odd about her visits. If there had been, I would’ve called the police.”
“I figured as much.”
“Do you have anything to go on? Can you find her?”
“We’re doing our best.” Mex handed her his card. “Call me if you think of anything, or hear of anything, that might help. Even the slightest piece of information could be important.”
Next he headed to the restaurant in LoHi, about a half-hour drive back toward the Denver area. Linger was a new hotspot. Taking over the site of what was once Olinger’s Mortuary, the restaurant now served water in formaldehyde bottles and offered Happy Hour specials printed on toe tags. Creative. Apparently their food was in demand too because he’d tried to make reservations for lunch and they were booked. While he would forgo food, he was going to have to crash the busy place, and throw his weight around if necessary. No way he could be subtle doing that. Not a way to win a popularity contest.
Mex drove around the congested LoHi neighborhood looking for a parking spot. Not happening. His mission inside the restaurant was short and sweet so using a valet didn’t make a lot of sense, but in the end he didn’t have a choice.
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Mex said to the young man. “Sorry to trouble you.”
“No problem, sir. A ten-minute tip is as welcome as a two-hour one. Maybe even more so.”
Mex walked up the ramp to the entrance. The open restaurant was crammed with diners, laughing, eating, drinking. It was all too loud for Mex’s taste. A pretty girl behind the front desk looked up. “Are you meeting someone? I’m afraid we don’t have anything available right now.”
“Do you know this girl?” Mex held up a picture.
“Yeah. That’s Alexis. I saw she was missing on the news. She comes in a few times a month with her friends.”
“Is there someone who usually waits on her I could talk to?”
“Yeah. We’re busy so it might take him a minute, but she always asks for Evan’s station. I’ll let him know you’re here and that it’s about Alexis.”
Mex passed the minutes waiting by checking out the photographs of the old mortuary. He guessed that in the days when this place was receiving bodies from the morgue and accommodating grieving loved ones, no one really wanted to eat. Goes to show that one weird idea can gain a following.
A young man hurried up to him and stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Evan. You’re here about Lexi?”
“Her father has hired me to find her. What can you tell me?”
“She pays the bill. And she always adds a sweet tip.”
“Anything notable about the last time she was here?”
“Do you think she was taken from here? I can’t picture it, man. I just can’t picture it.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, it was same-old, same-old, ya know? Nothing at all different from the last time she was here. Pretty much the same people, I put the bill on the table, and she paid it.”
Mex wasn’t surprised the restaurant was a dead-end. His money was on the gym. It was the cop in him that had to eliminate things. Part of him wished he could “go for the gold,” but he’d always have doubts if he did. Especially if the gold wasn’t solid. Elimination was part of the process and it wasn’t like he had a squad to check into everything. One step at a time.
He thanked the waiter for his time.
“I hope you find her. She had style.”
Next up, the gym in Greenwood Village.
* * *
“I’d like to talk to the manager,” Mex said as he handed the receptionist his card.
The girl didn’t bother to look up. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I’d like to talk to whoever’s in charge.” He gave her his best cop stare. “Now.”
The girl looked him in the eye and then tore her gaze away. She visibly shook, put the phone to her ear and dialed. “I think you should come down here. Like now.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” Mex said. “And thank you.”
A long twenty-three minutes later a woman approached him. Fit, devoid of makeup and apparently proud of it, she looked like someone who would run an athletic club.
“I’m looking for information regarding one of your members.”
“Sorry. Our member records are confidential.”
“Have you been watching the news? I’ve been hired by Steven Halston to look into the disappearance of his daughter, Alexis Halston, a member of this athletic club.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard. Terrible, terrible. Please wait here while I contact Mr. Halston and our attorneys. You understand our need to be correct in this, don’t you?”
“I know this won’t sound polite, but do you understand my need to find this girl? I really don’t care about your attorneys.”
“Please wait. I won’t be long.”
Frustrated, Mex mentally punched out at least three bad guys while he once again waited. They were touch-and-go encounters and he hoped he wouldn’t have to dream about them tonight.
A man, shirt straining against his muscles, walked toward him and held out his hand. “I’m Chip, one of the owners. I understand you’re interested in obtaining information about one of our members?”
“A member whose life might very well be in danger, and whose father could close down this entire facility if I don’t get some answers.”
“I’m waiting for a callback from our counsel. They’re very prompt so it should be—”
The owner’s cell rang and he looked at the screen. “Ah, here they are.” He accepted the call. “Yes, there’s a Mr.”—Chip checked the card—“Mex Anderson here who says he’s been engaged by Steven Halston regarding the disappearance of his daughter, Alexis.”
A pause.
“You have? Yes, I see. No, no problem. Thank you.”
The man tucked his phone away and regarded Mex. “It seems that Mr. Halston contacted our attorneys an hour ago authorizing full release of any information in our records relating to him or his daughter.”
Mex nodded. “That would be about when I asked him to do it.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Would it have made any difference?”
“Probably not.”
The owner turned to the receptionist who couldn’t disguise her interest in the discussion. “Give Mr. Anderson anything he requests in connection with Alexis Halston. Nothing more.”
“If you require anything further, ask the girl to call me.” He motioned in the direction of the front desk.
Mex watched as Mr. Tight-Ass walked away. His casual clothes belied his formal speech pattern. Mex knew the type. Insecure and a bully. Hell, sometimes he was that type.
He walked up to the desk. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. I tend to get focused on results that might help me keep someone alive, and I forget details like common courtesy. Forgive me?”
&nb
sp; “I’m glad someone is trying to find Alexis.”
“My name is Mex.” He held out his hand. “So, can you help me?”
The young girl slipped her slim hand into his. “I’m Amanda. What do you want to know?”
“How often did Alexis visit the gym?”
“She was a regular, but let me get you her specifics.” Amanda’s fingers flew over the computer keys. “She doesn’t usually come on weekends, but she’s here at least four times during the week.”
“That’s important information, Amanda. Thank you. Does she have friends here that you’ve noticed?”
The girl blushed and looked down. “Sometimes another member would work out with her, but not very often.”
“What are you saying?”
“She could be, um, demanding. Even bitchy. Oh, I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t say—”
“Your truthfulness might help me save her. Don’t be sorry.”
Mex waited while Amanda processed his words.
“Did Alexis have a personal trainer?”
“Yes. Yes, she did. She always worked with Donny.”
“Is Donny here now?”
A few more keystrokes. “Nope. He’s off for the next three days.” Amanda looked up at Mex and winked. “Would you like his home address?”
In Georgia in 2000, while children were being arrested, put in jail, and chained like the worst of criminals, the men selling them and having sex with them were rarely arrested.
—Selling Atlanta’s children: What has and hasn’t changed, by Jane O. Hansen, Special to CNN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cade sat in the car in front of Jayla Thomas’s apartment building and motioned Mex and Darius to listen. The men exchanged a look. They’d worked together before, so she understood their impatience.
“Here’s the thing,” Cade said. “Steven Halston got people to listen to him because he has money and influence. While we don’t know Mary Thomas’s history with her daughter, we do know Jayla has been missing for six months. Her mother has done everything within her power to get help. Maybe because of race or a lack of financial resources, her story hasn’t gotten play. This woman is frantic for her daughter, and because she hasn’t had any positive response from authorities, she contacted Mex.”
Cade paused. “I can read you both. You have an end-game in mind and in order to get there you require certain information. You know how to soft-step, but you need a woman’s touch here. We don’t want to go into her home, the one place where she should have complete control, with guns blazing and an expectation to get the answers we want in a hurry. Let’s walk in and be respectful. If you can’t do that maybe I should take the lead.”
Silence.
Then in stereo, “You should take the lead.”
“You boys are smart when you’re presented with the facts, I’ll give you that.”
“Can we go now?” Mex opened his door.
“One more thing,” Cade said.
“What?”
“Don’t try and take the lead away from me.”
A chorus of grunts filled the air.
There wasn’t anything special about the apartment complex. Spare landscaping that required minimal time and money, brick and laminate exteriors for the same reason. It was clearly public housing for people who couldn’t afford the prices the rest of the city demanded. Most of the tenants who lived here paid no more than thirty percent of their adjusted gross income for their housing. Sadly, it showed. While the owners pocketed full rents thanks to the program, they were clearly putting nothing back in the property for improvement, or even maintenance. Darius had informed them that while newer, the Whittier housing complex had received a failing score by HUD.
Cade added this to her list of causes she wanted to advocate for in the next year. She’d find an owner or policy maker to hound until someone improved living conditions for the people who lived here. Damn. She needed a clone.
As they approached the unit where Jayla’s family lived, Cade tried to get a sense of what it must have been like for the young girl to arrive home each day. This was her anchor in a world that must not always have been idyllic. The whole place felt worn out and sad. Like it had given up.
Had Jayla given up? Is that why she was targeted?
Cade rang the doorbell and stepped back, Mex and Darius close behind her. She heard someone come up against the door and stop.
Then nothing.
There was a peephole but the noise she heard was significantly below it.
“We’re here to see Mary Thomas. She’s expecting us,” Cade said loud and clear to the closed door. She heard scuffling through the flimsy wood.
Finally, it opened. Three sets of eyes were on her in an instant.
“Mama! It’s them. They really came,” a girl called over her shoulder. She couldn’t have been more than eight or ten.
A woman wearing a bandana and impossibly large hoop earrings walked up to the door. “Go, now.” With those two words her children scattered.
She opened the door wider. “Please. Come in.”
After quick introductions, the group settled around the kitchen table.
“Can I get you something to drink? I got water, or iced tea, or Seven Up.”
Mex and Darius both shook their heads.
“I’d love iced tea,” Cade said. “Is it sweet?”
“Iced tea in my house don’t come any other way.”
“Perfect.”
Mary took a closer look at Cade. “Where you from?”
“Louisiana.”
“My mama was from Slidell.”
“Then your tea better hit the spot.”
“It will.” Mary went to the refrigerator and brought out a pitcher. She turned to look at Mex and Darius. “Are you sure you boys don’t want any?”
They smiled in acquiescence. “Thank you, ma’am,” Darius said. Mex merely nodded.
Teas poured, Cade took a sip and nodded her approval. “Tell me about your daughter, Mrs. Thomas.”
“Call me Mary.”
“Tell me about Jayla, Mary.”
“For one thing, she too smart for her own good.”
“What do you mean?”
“She thinks, because she got important shit going on in her brain she don’t have to pay attention to the shit going on in her life. She got no street smarts.”
“What do you think happened to her?”
A tear slipped down Mary’s face and she angrily wiped it away. “What do you think?'
Cade slipped her hands across the table and held them out. And waited.
And waited some more.
“I called you. I want to believe you care. Up till now, no one I’ve called has. Why should I believe you do?”
Cade waited some more.
Finally, Mary grabbed her hands. A desperate cry escaped her lips. “She’s my first baby. Can you help her?”
“We’re gonna try.”
“Okay. Okay.” Jayla’s mother collapsed like a punctured balloon.
Cade took charge. “We want to know everyone she’s in contact with. I don’t care if it’s a best friend who knows all her secrets or a passing acquaintance. Can you get me those names?”
Silence.
“Can you get me those names?” Cade repeated.
“I can get you everyone I know.”
“Thank you.”
Mex cleared his throat. “Ma’am, would it be possible for us to see Jayla’s room? It can help us get a clearer picture of your daughter.”
Mary looked from Mex to Darius, then to Cade, who gave a nod. “Okay then. Jayla gots her own room but her younger sisters sleep in there a lot. ’Specially since she gone. It’s like they gotta breathe her in.” She swiped another tear from her face and straightened her back. “Go on then, room’s right back there. I’ll stay here and get workin’ on that list of names.”
* * *
Cade thought of her room as a young girl. It wasn’t much different from this one. She glanc
ed at Mex and Darius and knew they were also relating to this space.
The room was small but well organized. Posters of current musicians and actors covered the walls. Cade thought she might recognize one of them but couldn’t be sure. Three stuffed animals sat on top of the twin bed. Extra bedding, presumably for the younger sisters, lay folded neatly at the foot.
A three-shelf bookcase sat next to the dresser, crammed with well-worn copies of many of the great books of literature along with equally worn copies of contemporary authors, including Octavia Butler, James Baldwin, Walter Mosley, and Michael Connelly. Cade smiled, wondering how Connelly made it into the mix.
“She probably bought the books used,” Darius said. “Did she have a job?”
“Her mom told me she babysat for kids in the neighborhood once in a while, and tutored through the school,” Cade said.
Mex nodded. “Make sure her mom includes those people on the list.”
Cade looked at the sparsely filled closet. “You know there aren’t going to be many names on that list, don’t you?”
“One name will lead us to more. All it takes is one.”
“Well, look what I found.” Darius, crouched next to the bed, fingered a bound book from in between the box spring and mattress.
Cade and Mex looked at him, mouths open.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s where my sister hid hers when we were growing up.”
“You read your sister’s diary?” Cade asked.
“Every chance I got.” Darius laughed. “She never could figure out how I knew so much. I even remember her writing about accusing her friends of telling me stuff.”
Cade held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
“Are you kidding? We might find leads in here,” Darius said.
“Not without Jayla’s mother saying it’s okay.” Cade didn’t retract her hand.
“Bullshit. The girl is missing. Her diary could be important,” Darius said. “What if she says no?”
“Look,” Cade said. “Her mama is not going to say no. But it’s essential she feel part of our team.”
“Cade’s right,” Mex said. “The woman has had enough stolen from her. My bet is she’ll let us have it, but she needs to experience a sense of power right now and we’re the ones who can give it to her.”