Thread of Betrayal

by Jeff Shelby

  “Last one from here was just before midnight,” I said. “And it would’ve gotten her as far as Oceanside.”

  “If she got on last night,” he said.

  “She did.” I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. She would have been tired of waiting, tired of being stymied by circumstance.

  “You think she went south?”

  “She told her friend that she was remembering some things about San Diego,” I said. “And she’s gone south since the airport. It’s just a guess. But I’m not sure what else we have to go on.”

  “I could see about obtaining a passenger list,” Anchor said, eyeing the ticket counter.

  I shook my head. “Don’t think it would do any good. You can buy cash tickets from the kiosks. They might’ve checked I.D. getting on, but I don’t think it would’ve been recorded for her to travel.”

  He nodded. “Alright. I can check on that pretty quickly, but that makes sense.”

  He made his way quickly to the ticket counter, taking his place in line behind a woman in a tailored navy blue suit. I turned around slowly, taking everything in. We didn’t have an exact location, but I couldn’t imagine where else she would’ve gone. I had no idea how she’d gotten from Redondo to Capistrano, but that almost seemed irrelevant now. We knew she’d been to Capistrano, based on the cellular signal. And I couldn’t imagine why else she would’ve gone there. She didn’t know anyone and there was no destination she was familiar with. She was flying blind.

  Anchor returned. “No passenger list. Do you think she would she have drawn any attention as a teenager on the train?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it. So even trying to track down anyone who was here might be a waste of time. Not all that unusual to see a kid getting on the commuter trains.”

  Anchor nodded, lines in his forehead creased, thinking.

  I turned around to look at the schedule again. The train would’ve taken her as far as Oceanside, the northern most point in San Diego County. But when she got to Oceanside, she would’ve had the option to jump on another train to get further in to San Diego. But where would she have gone? She made no mention to Morgan about Coronado. But was her memory coming back? Was it being triggered by the fact that she was in Southern California now? Maybe triggered by our speaking to one another? I had no idea and like always, that was the hardest part.

  I had no idea.

  “I think the best thing to do is to head to San Diego,” I said. “We can stop in Oceanside and see what the train schedule is there. I don’t really have a better idea.”

  Anchor nodded. “I thought of something else that I might offer to you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The two men who you are not sure about?”

  “Bazer. And Mike.”

  Anchor nodded again. “I know that you’re concerned that they are a danger to your daughter. What if we put something in place to draw them out?”

  “I’m not following.”

  “If we fed them false information that let them believe we knew her whereabouts, it might…give us a more accurate picture of whom you can trust. And who has lied to you.”

  “So, what? A sting?”

  “For lack of a better word, yes.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not entirely sure yet,” Anchor said. “And I don’t want to do anything to endanger your daughter. But if you’re open to the idea, I can go about finding a way to put it together.”

  I stared at the deserted train tracks. At some point, I was going to want to know which of them had played a part in her disappearance. And I would deal with them. At that moment, though, the thing I cared about most was finding Elizabeth and keeping her safe. Punishing anyone who was involved would have to wait and I didn’t want to get bogged down thinking about those things.

  But I didn’t see any harm in having Anchor do a little preliminary work.

  “Start working on it,” I said.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Can we stop at a drugstore or something?” Lauren asked. “I feel like crap.”

  We were nearly to Oceanside, a straight shot down the interstate from San Juan Capistrano, past the power plant in San Onofre and the marine base in Camp Pendleton. To my right, the ocean hugged the coast, choppy waves crashing in to the shoreline as we flew past.

  “Sick?” I asked.

  She made a face. “Probably just hungry. I don’t know.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ll pull off at the next exit,” Anchor said from the front.

  We passed the harbor and the old Holiday Inn and then took a cloverleaf exit and parked in front of a twenty-four hour drugstore.

  “Be right back,” Lauren said, getting out.

  “I made a phone call,” Anchor said. “No passenger lists on the commuter trains.”

  I frowned. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed hearing him on the phone, unless I’d dozed a little, too. “Yeah. Figured.”

  “ I think I’m getting access to video surveillance,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I saw cameras at the depot,” Anchor said. “Monitored ticket and boarding areas.”

  “You can tap in?”

  He shook his head. “No. Having recorded feeds sent to me for download. And from this Oceanside station we’re heading to. If your daughter was on there, we’ll have a good idea of where to go.”

  I should’ve been surprised, but I wasn’t. Anchor had shown an incredible ability to get nearly anything we needed and was able to do it quickly. I’d stopped wondering how he was getting it and how powerful Codaselli really was and instead wished I’d run into him the day after Elizabeth had disappeared from Coronado.

  “I should have it by the time we get to the depot,” Anchor said. “We can take a look at it there.”

  I nodded.

  “And I’ve made some initial inquiries about your former colleagues and what we talked about,” he said. “I’ll know more in a bit.”

  “Do you ever sleep?” I asked.

  Anchor chuckled. “Mr. Codaselli pays me extremely well to not sleep.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  “As long as I can remember,” he answered. He nodded at Kitting. “Ellis, too. People tend not to leave Mr. Codaselli’s employ.” He turned in the seat to face me and adjusted his glasses. “And that isn’t sordid in anyway. Mr. Codaselli is generous and looks out for the people who are loyal to him. We’re treated incredibly well and it would be difficult to match his employment elsewhere.”

  Kitting nodded in agreement behind the wheel.

  “Mr. Codaselli has a long memory,” Anchor continued. “If you do a good job for him, he doesn’t forget. And he believes in rewarding people who do well for him. Not just large things, either. Whatever your job is, if you do it well, he recognizes that.” He paused. “It’s why I’m here. It’s why Ellis is here. What you did for Mr. Codaselli? He won’t forget that.” He smiled. “Ever.”

  The neon lights above the store flickered.

  “You said his health was alright,” I asked. “How’s he really doing?”

  “He’s managing,” Anchor said. “He’s a very tough old man.”

  “Cancer is usually tougher than most.”

  Anchor nodded. “Certainly. But he’s probably already lasted longer than he should have. He tends to will his way through life.”

  He made it sound like Codaselli was some sort of noble benefactor who was the world’s greatest employer. While I was grateful for the help he was providing, I knew better. Codaselli may have been generous to those in his favor, but he was probably ruthless to those who were not.

  I was glad I was in his favor.

  Lauren emerged from the store, looking a little more awake and wide-eyed. She climbed back into the car.

  “Where’s the medicine?” I asked, noticing her empty hands.

  She looked at her hands. “Oh. I took it in there. Just got one of those travel packages for a buck.” She looked at me. “Just some
stuff to settle my stomach.”

  “You alright?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  Kitting caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “We good?”

  I nodded and he directed the car out of the parking lot and back down the freeway. We took the Mission Avenue exit and headed west toward the Pacific.

  The transit center was a couple blocks from the ocean, in a redeveloped part of Oceanside. The city had long been the ugly stepsister of San Diego, known for not much more than housing Camp Pendleton and gangs. But the city had attempted to clean itself up and revitalized the areas closer to the beach, hoping to draw tourists to the shore and condos along the water. The transit center was a part of that revitalization, a hub to connect visitors with San Diego and make it easier to travel back and forth and avoid the snarl of standstill traffic that had become Interstate 5.

  The center was a stark white building with Spanish accents and arched walkways, paying homage both to the area’s heritage and the fact that what was old was new again. Save for a couple of homeless guys on the curb passing a paper bag back and forth, the lot was empty. Kitting pulled into a slot right near the tracks.

  “You talk to them,” Anchor said to Kitting. “Mr. Tyler and I will walk the building.”

  “And Ms. Tyler,” Lauren said, annoyed.

  “Apologies, Ms. Tyler,” he said quickly. “Wasn’t sure how you were feeling.”

  “I’m fine,” Lauren said, getting out.

  Kitting headed toward the homeless guys. The three of us walked the perimeter of the building. Like always, I half-expected to see Elizabeth sitting right there, waiting for us, wondering what took so long. But, like always, she wasn’t. There was no trace of her.

  Five minutes of walking around the building and peering in the windows gave us nothing else.

  But Kitting was walking back toward us with one of the homeless guys.

  The man was somewhere between forty and sixty, an overgrown gray beard hiding brown, wrinkled skin. A black knit watchman’s cap covered his head, long gray tresses spilling out of the sides. His jeans were dirty and torn and he had a brown field coat over several layers of shirts. His work boots were covered in sand.

  He stood up straight next to Kitting, eyeing each of us.

  “This is Ben,” Kitting said to Anchor. “He might be able to help us.”

  “Ben, my name is John,” Anchor said, then gestured at Lauren and me. “These two people are looking for their daughter. We think she may have been here. Might you have seen her?”

  Ben looked us over, then cleared his throat. “I might have.”

  “Might have,” Anchor repeated. “Can you elaborate?”

  Ben tugged on his coat, pulled it tighter around him. “Probably could, yes sir.”

  Anchor reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and peeled two off. Twenties. He handed them to Ben. “I’d like to do this without the dance, Ben. If you’re able to help us, we’ll be happy to compensate you accordingly.”

  Ben took the twenties and deposited them into a coat pocket. He glanced at Kitting. “The girl he described. Think I saw her a few hours ago. Not sure when cause I don’t wear a watch. But woulda been a few hours ago.

  That would’ve made sense if she’d ridden down from Capistrano. The timing worked.

  “She was alone?” I asked.

  “At first, yeah,” Ben said, nodding, then clearing his throat again. “She was inside the station. Only reason I noticed was cuz of me and Jesse.” He nodded back toward his friend on the curb who was watching us intently. “Me and Jesse kinda keep an eye on things around here.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “We been around awhile,” he said, shrugging. “Try not to bother nobody, but it’s kind of our home. So we look out for folks, I guess. Sometimes some folks show up who oughta not be here. Bangers sometimes. Kids looking to take advantage of tourists.” He shrugged again. “So we keep an eye on things. Anybody looks like they got a bad idea, we let ‘em know it’s not the place. We can handle ourselves.”

  I nodded, letting him continue.

  “So if a teenage girl who looks a little lost shows up, we notice,” Ben said. “Didn’t try to talk to her or nothin’ because we probably woulda just scared her. But we saw her—think Jesse saw her first—and we kept an eye on her to make sure she was alright. Made sure no one took a run at her or nothin’.”

  “What was she wearing?” Lauren asked.

  Ben eyed her for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I know what you’re getting at ma’am and I don’t blame you. But I’m not so drunk that I’m making up the only teenage girl to come through here tonight.” He fished the money out of his pocket and held it out to her. “I ain’t doin’ this just for the money. She was here and if I can help you, I will.” He shook his head. “Little girl shouldn’t be riding trains by herself.”

  Lauren hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

  He put the money back in his pocket. “Had a daughter once. No idea where she is now, but I hope she’s doin’ better than me. And I hope she’s safe.”

  Lauren nodded, clearly wishing she hadn’t said anything.

  “Anyway,” Ben said, looking back to me. “She was here alone and the station was kinda empty last night. It was late. Not much goin’ on. So she was alone for most of the time.”

  “Most of the time?” I asked.

  He made a face. “Couple of local girls got with her after a bit. But they didn’t hassle her or nothin’. Seemed like they were just talkin’ her up. Or maybe she was askin’ them for directions. I dunno.”

  It was strange seeing Elizabeth through someone else’s lens. I was trying to picture her sitting at the station, how she sat, what her voice sounded like in person, what she would’ve talked to those girls about. It was like watching a movie that wasn’t in focus. I could make out pieces of it, but not the whole.

  “So we didn’t pay her much attention then,” Ben continued. “Thought she might just be settling in and waiting for a ride or something.” He frowned and brushed the greasy strands of hair away from his face. “But then Netty showed up.”

  “Netty?” I asked.

  Ben nodded. “Local girl. Runs with some of the bangers. Likes to try and hassle me and Jesse when she’s bored. Goes out of her way to drive through puddles if she sees us sittin’ on the curb and thinks she can soak us.” He shook his head. “Crap like that.”

  “Lovely,” Anchor said.

  Ben nodded again. “Yeah. Some people, they’re just like that, I guess. Anyway, Netty showed up and she knew the two girls with the girl you’re lookin’ for. And she was all friendly and everything, but I’m tellin’ you. There ain’t nothin’ friendly about Netty.”

  A cloud passed in front of the sun, momentarily dimming the sky. A soft breeze blew across the lot and I shivered harder than I should have.

  “Train pulls in,” he said. “Southbound. Jesse elbows me. All four of ‘em got on. They were on before we could get across the street to ‘em. If we’d been watchin’ more, we might’ve been able to get to ‘em before they got on. But we weren’t.” The lines around his mouth deepened. “I woulda liked to warn that girl that goin’ anywhere with Netty was probably a bad idea. Not sure if she woulda listened to an old man like me, but I woulda tried.” He winced and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Lauren sighed audibly. Kitting’s eyes scanned the area. Anchor looked at me.

  “It’s okay, Ben,” I said. “Not your fault. And you’ve given us more than we would’ve had if we hadn’t talked to you. So thanks.”

  He nodded. “Just sorry I didn’t know someone was lookin’ for her.”

  “You know Netty’s last name?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Just Netty. And I only know that because one of her friends yelled at her to knock it off one time when she was trying to soak us. Locked it away so I wouldn’t forget it.” He thought for a mome
nt. “But she’s always got all of this jewelry hanging from her ears. Feathers, hoops, you name it, she’s worn it.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Thanks for your help, Ben. Appreciate it.”

  Ben nodded.

  Anchor offered his hand to Ben. “Thank you. To both you and Jesse.”

  Ben took his hand and held on for just a moment, then pulled his hand away.

  I spotted the thick fold of bills Anchor passed him before he shoved the wad in his pocket.

  Ben looked at me. “I hope you find her.”

  I pulled a card from my pocket and handed it to him. “Me, too. And if you ever want to find your daughter, give me a call.”

  Ben studied the card for a moment, then looked at me. “You do this a lot? Look for kids?”

  I smiled at Ben, truly grateful we’d run into him. “More than I’d like to, Ben. More than I’d like to.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “That’s her,” I said, staring at the iPad screen. “At the ticket window.”

  We were back in the car and the AC was filtering into the backseat from the front vents. Anchor had taken a minute to boot up the iPad, then passed it over the seat to me.

  A black and white closed-circuit feed showed a split screen at the Capistrano terminal: left side the ticket window, the right side a long shot of the boarding platform. Military time ticked away in white numbers on the bottom. Elizabeth was standing at the ticket window.

  Lauren leaned in closer to me, up against my shoulder. “Yeah. Definitely.”

  She passed several bills across the metal counter to the cashier behind the glass partition. There was no audio but they appeared to be talking a little bit. Elizabeth gave a nervous laugh, then tried to smile, but it came off as something masquerading as a smile. The woman behind the partition passed a small white piece of paper back to her and then Elizabeth stepped away, out of the view of the camera.

  I watched the left side for another minute. No one else stepped to the window.