“What kind of something?”
“A girl getting snatched out of your club kind of something.”
The giant frowned, staring at Taylor’s face, gauging seriousness. Without a word he turned and headed back into the club, waving a hand as he passed Taylor indicating he should follow. They headed to a door halfway between the stage and the bar.
Taylor couldn’t help but notice that Nick had yet to appear from the bathroom.
The giant knocked on the door and the mumbled reply seemed enough to allow him to open the door and step in, ushering Taylor past then shutting the door behind them.
“Mr. Fredricks, this guy says we might have a problem,” the mountain said, looming behind Taylor.
The guy at the desk appeared to be in his fifties with thinning, slicked back salt and pepper hair, wearing what Taylor had to assume was a stylish suit. Although, it could be off the rack for all Taylor knew about fashion.
The man took off the reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, setting them on the desk in front of him and leaning back in his chair.
“It must be a serious problem. This is the first time Mikey has ever brought someone I don’t know back here.”
Taylor looked back at the giant, wondering why guys like that were always called Mikey or Tiny.
“I believe a girl may have been grabbed out of your club last Saturday, I was hoping to get a look at your security footage to see what might have happened.”
“No one was dragged out of here against their will, that’s for sure. My guys keep a close watch on everything, and they would stop anyone from taking out a girl who was too drunk or messed up to leave under their own power. We run a clean club here and I make sure none of that shit happens in my house.”
“I never thought for a minute you or your staff were doing something they shouldn’t have. I just know she has disappeared and this is the last place anyone can remember her being. Like I told Mikey here, I’m not trying to cause you guys any trouble. But this girl’s family hired me to find her.” Taylor said then paused, making sure he had the guys full attention. “Her very rich and influential family.”
Mr. Fredricks stared at Taylor for almost a full moment, silence settling around them.
Finally he said, “Fine. I’m caught up on everything right now anyways. Let’s take a look at your girl, and if everything is as it should be then you’ll drop this and leave my club out of it. Sound fair?”
“Sounds fair,” Taylor said, meeting the man’s gaze.
Fredricks spun around in his chair and opened a cabinet, which contained multiple monitors and a computer. He clicked around on a program Taylor didn’t recognize, and the largest screen in the middle switched to an internal shot of a crowd dancing. Taylor despaired for a moment. The crowd was moving and the air was smoky. It seemed unlikely he’d find anyone in the mass of squirming bodies.
Pulling out the picture from her room, Taylor folded it so it only showed Mary Jane’s face and set it next to the screen. After ten minutes, Taylor started to feel this whole thing was an exercise in pointlessness. The faces were too hard to tell apart.
“Is that her?” a deep voice said over Taylor’s shoulder, causing him to nearly jump.
A beefy arm stretched past Taylor, pointing to a spot in the top left of the screen, near the rest room that Taylor had left Nick in. Squinting, Taylor thought he was right. It did look like Mary Jane, wobbling away from the rest rooms, stopping every few steps to get her balance.
She was wearing skintight blue jeans and a black, halter-neck shirt with straps reaching from where the fabric stopped just above her chest and winding around her neck, holding it in place. From this angle Taylor could see her hair was as long as he guessed, reaching to the small of her back.
After the Mary Jane on the screen failed a few attempts to walk toward the dancing crowd, barely managing to stay standing, a man came on-screen from the same direction she had appeared from, walking behind her and putting a steadying hand on her elbow. The guy matched what Nick had described.
If Taylor had to guess, this guy was never military, or at least not US military. The tattoo on the side of his face didn’t look new and it wouldn’t have flown with any recruiter Taylor ever met. But he clearly could handle himself. He was dressed in clothes that, to Taylor’s novice eye, looked stylish but were still loose enough to provide good movement if need be. Taylor also noticed he was wearing a coat. February in DC of course called for coats, but everyone else on the video had dumped theirs, and most were sweating. All those people packed into the room, it had to be warm.
Taylor could think of two obvious reasons for someone to not want to at least carry a coat instead of wearing it. The guy wanted to conceal something or he was planning a fast exit, or both.
As Taylor watched, the man half-carried Mary Jane out of the range of the camera and away from the front of the club.
“Where does that lead?” Taylor asked.
“Back of the club. There’s only a fire exit that way, and it would have sounded if someone had opened it,” Mr. Fredricks replied.
“Umm,” Mikey said, and paused.
Both Taylor and Mr. Fredricks turned to look at Mikey, who had a weirdly sheepish look on his face that was totally out of place on his hulking form.
“What?” Mr. Fredricks said, a tone of suspicion seeping into his voice.
“Willie shut off the alarm and has been leaving the door unlocked on his shifts so he can sneak out for a smoke.”
Mikey looked at the floor, not making eye contact with either man.
“What,” Mr. Fredricks said, his voice going still and cold.
“He had been smoking inside, but the inspector was in here a few weeks ago and threatened to write a ticket if he caught him again. He gave him a pass that time, since the law about not smoking in the building was new. Willie tried to just not smoke on his shift, since it took too long to get out the front door, smoke and get back before Jason got overwhelmed by himself. But after a while without a smoke he would get pissed and tell off customers, and it seemed like it wouldn’t hurt anything if he just snuck out back real quick for a smoke once or twice.”
Mikey sounded like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, trying to give his parents a reason why what they saw wasn’t so bad, and was failing just as badly.
“You and I are going to have a long talk about the rules around here Mikey. And Willie needs to either learn to deal with it or find another job. You disabling the alarm could also get us fined, right? Sometimes you guys just don’t think about shit befo—”
“I know this is a pressing problem and all, but is there a camera out back? I want to see where the girl went once she goes off screen.”
Mr. Fredricks glared at Taylor. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being interrupted, and had no patience for it in his own office. But, since Mary Jane being led off to the back of the club had all kinds of negative possibilities for the club, if something had happened to her in his establishment, he limited his annoyance at Taylor to the brief glare before turning back to the camera monitors.
“There’s a camera in the alley,” he said, a trace of annoyance still in his voice.
After a few clicks on the computer, the view on the monitor changed, shifting from inside the club to a grainy black-and-white picture looking along the alley toward the street in front of the club. A dark car sat with its engine running a few feet from the back door, a cloud of exhaust clearly visible as it met the cold February air.
Taylor watched the time code in the corner of the screen progress, counting from the time he noted Mary Jane leaving the previous camera footage. Counting in his head, Taylor guessed that, if she had come out this way, it should happen soon. As if on cue, the back door swung open and Mary Jane walked out, led by Mr. Face Tattoo. Her near obliviousness to the cold despite the lack of a coat covering her bare shoulders reinforced Taylor’s belief she wasn’t just drunk.
Mary Jane stumbled and the man reached dow
n and picked her up, carrying her the last few feet to the car as her head lolled back, his face to the camera and her eyes closed. A second man got out of the driver’s side of the car and circled around to open to the rear passenger door. While he lacked any obvious tattoos similar to his friend, he also bore a semi-military haircut. The angle of the camera also showed Taylor the man’s footwear. As Nick had described, they were a modern style combat boot. It was hard to tell, but they didn’t look like anything issued by the US military.
With the rear door opened, Tattoo Face slid Mary Jane into the back seat and shut the door. As the driver headed back around to return to the car, the rear door of the club opened once again. A man half-leaned out, hugging himself against the cold and saying something to Tattoo Face. Taylor’s teeth scraped together, his jaws clenching, as he recognized the face of the weasely Nick conversing with Mary Jane’s abductor.
Taylor wished there was audio, as the two spoke for almost a full minute, Nick halfway inside the club, standing in the open emergency exit door. With a nod, Tattoo Face reached into his pocket and extracted a wad of cash, passing it to Nick before turning and heading into the car. As soon as the front passenger door closed with Tattoo Face inside, the car pulled into the alley and turned left onto the street in front of the club, disappearing from sight.
Taylor had pulled a notepad from his pocket and noted the license plate of the car, but he’d bet money either the car or the license plate was stolen. These guys seemed professional enough to not have left something that simple behind.
“Shit,” Mr. Fredricks said.
“Yea,” Taylor said and handed him a second sheet of paper torn from the notepad with an email address quickly scribbled on it. “I need you to send both the video from the club and the one in the alley here. There’s a good chance you’re going to get a call from the FBI about this.”
“We didn’t know any—”
“I know. You seem competent enough that if you’d known that was on the feed, there’s no way you would have let me see it. I’m going to tell them you guys are probably in the clear and you’ve been cooperating. I’d suggest you keep doing that once they call.”
Taylor didn’t wait for a response as he turned and edged around Mikey’s girth and out of the office. His jaws were set in silent fury once he made it to the men’s room and looked inside. He was not surprised to find Nick gone and the filthy room empty.
Letting the door swing shut, he made his way over to the ever-curious bartender.
“Nick,” he said, pointing at the door. “Where’d he go?”
“He took off as soon as you headed back to Mr. Fredrick’s office. He didn’t say anything to me though, man. I swear.”
Taylor gave a single throaty growl as his annoyance grew before turning and heading out of the club, phone in hand.
CHAPTER 4
Taylor blinked as he stepped out of the dim club, blocking the blinding sunlight with one hand while his eyes adjusted, and held his phone to his ear.
“Tell me you found her, and you want to meet for lunch back at the apartment,” Whitaker said when she answered.
She was clearly in a good mood, and her tone suggested she wasn’t particularly interested in food for lunch. Taylor had a moment of regret for the train wreck he was about to create out of the rest of her day.
“Rain check, Princess, we have a problem.”
“What happened,” she said, her voice becoming focused as she recognized Taylor’s tone.
“I’m pretty sure the senator’s daughter was kidnapped last Saturday night. You should be getting emailed two videos in the next few minutes that show her stumbling and being led out of the back door of a local club. The other shows her semiconscious, being carried to a waiting car and driven away. Also, a shot of the guy who walked her out of the club passing money to the guy Mary Jane was dating after they loaded her into the car.”
“Shit,” Whitaker said as the sound of typing drifted through the phone.
“Maybe it’s nothing, and these were guys who worked for the senator paying a helpful guy for alerting them about Mary Jane’s state and they were just getting her out of the public eye. But I’ll tell you now, that’s not what this is,” Taylor said, his voice putting the lie to the words. “This was an abduction, plain and simple.”
“I’ve got the video.”
Taylor continued to his car and pulled out of the lot while he listened to her watch the silent security footage.
“Shit,” she said again after the four minutes it took to watch both.
“Yeah.”
“Who’s the kid?”
“Nick Braiden, Mary Jane’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. He took her to the club and I know he was there that night, but the bartender confirmed he left without her.”
“I’m going to put out a BOLO on both the license plate and Mr. Braiden and open a case. The person who sent this email has the name and address of the club on it. I’ll send some people over there to talk them as well.”
“Go easy on those guys. I didn’t catch a whiff of them being involved, and they cooperated.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find Nick.”
“Taylor, we’re on this now. Maybe you should step back and let us handle it.”
“You know that’s not going to happen. Maybe if you have the senator call me off, but she asked me to find her daughter, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Sounding simultaneously frustrated and acquiescent, Whitaker said. “Call me if you find anything else out.”
“Sure,” Taylor said and switched off the phone.
It took some time, but Taylor found his way to the address on Nick’s license. It was unlikely Nick would be there, but it was a starting place. Taylor just hoped the kid left enough behind to give him a clue where he’d gone, or the identity of Mary Jane’s abductor.
The address led Taylor to a rundown apartment complex well outside Washington DC in one of the less trendy suburbs and near one of DC’s rail lines. Even as Taylor got out of his car, he could hear a train rumbling by. He couldn’t imagine what it’d be like trying to sleep with that just overhead late at night.
Going to the second floor, Taylor found the door and knocked, just to be sure it was empty before he let himself inside to begin searching for clues. To Taylor’s utter shock, the door opened and Nick, surrounded in an acrid haze of pot smoke, opened the door, and stared out through bloodshot eyes.
Recognizing Taylor, Nick froze in place, his dull expression morphing to terror. Neither man moved for several beats, each surprised to be facing the other.
Unfortunately for Nick, Taylor recovered from his surprise first. Taylor's fist snapped out and punched Nick square in the face, knocking him into the apartment and flat on his back. Taylor stepped inside and shut the door, flicking the deadbolt closed before standing over Nick, who was now holding his nose and mouth as blood poured from both.
“You have to be one of the stupidest mother fuckers I've ever met. You knew you lied, and you knew I had your license. Did you think I wasn’t going to come by here?”
“Yew broke my nose,” Nick said, tears welling up in his eyes.
Taylor reached down and grabbed Nick by the throat, lifting him to his feet and shoving him onto the couch nearby.
“I told you what would happen if I found out you lied, Dumb-ass. Now we get to pick up our conversation from the club again. Although this time with less lying.”
Taylor leaned down and buried a fist into Nick’s stomach, causing him to ball up on the couch and let out a groan.
“You can’t do this,” Nick said, pleading, his voice coming out nasally and distorted through the broken nose. “I’m gonna call the cops.”
“And tell them what? You paid off a guy to kidnap your girlfriend? How’s that gonna look, Nick?”
Nick just groaned.
“It’s time to use your head. You are in some serious shit now. I don’t know what their plans are with Mary Ja
ne, but how do you think going after the family of a US Senator will go over? What do you think someone like that will do with a lowlife piece of shit like you? It’s sink or swim time, Nick.”
“What?” Nick said, sounding confused.
“Sink or swim. Do what you should’ve done at the club or end up in a world of hurt. Man are you stupid.”
“No, I mean what senator.”
It was Taylor’s turn to look at Nick confused.
“Mary Jane’s mother."
“Her mom’s a senator?” Nick said, almost whining.
“How do you not know who her mom is?”
“We never talked about it. She complained about how controlling her mom was, but she said nothing else, and she never said her mom was a senator.”
The Wrong Girl (John Taylor Book 3) Page 5