by Larry Enmon
Tyro struggled to move, his eyes filling with fear, but Rob held him in a vise grip.
Frank twisted the pencil several times, keeping the fingers locked tight. The guy stiffened, then jerked and shook with each twist as if electricity rushed through his body. Frank knew how it felt: the six-sided hard object ground the skin, nerves and bones of the two fingers it rested between. Tyro’s eyes widened as the pencil twisted. A muffled cry tried to escape his lips, but Rob’s hand remained clamped. Tears streamed down the guy’s cheeks. Frank stopped twisting just before it looked as if Tyro might pass out.
Frank pulled the pencil from between the fingers and tapped on the kid’s forehead with the eraser. “Hello, anybody in there?”
The stench of urine wafted from below the table. The guy eased open his eyes and gawked in horror at Frank.
“Now that we understand each other, we can get down to business. My partner’s going to let go of your mouth. Okay? And in return you’re not going to shout or make any noise. The only thing you’re going to do is tell us what happened to the girl who was driving that car. After that, we’re out of here, and you can explain all about stealing it to the auto theft detectives. Nod if you agree.”
Tyro nodded so hard he almost broke loose from Rob’s grip.
“Good. Now, in your quiet voice”—Frank placed his index finger to his lips—“tell us about the girl.”
Rob slowly slid his hand from Tyro’s trembling lips. He gulped in a lungful of air and shook. He sucked in quick breaths as sweat rolled down his face. He had that near-death-experience look.
Frank waited a few seconds. “Enough already. Too much oxygen’s bad for you. What about the girl?”
“What girl?” the suspect asked between breaths.
Rob’s hand slid toward Tyro’s mouth as Frank brought the pencil back into view.
Tyro jerked his head away from Rob. “I swear, there’s no girl. I found the car.”
Rob pulled his hand away from Tyro’s mouth.
“Do we look stupid to you?” Frank snapped.
Panic set in as the kid babbled about finding the car abandoned in a parking lot in South Dallas.
Frank scrutinized him. “Tell us about it.”
Tyro licked his lips. “I was walking around the Walmart late one night flipping handles when I sees a nice car sitting at the far end of the lot.”
“What night?” Frank asked.
A pause. “Sunday, I think.”
“Which Walmart?” Rob asked.
“You know that supercenter off Lake June Road?”
“You idiot, that’s not in South Dallas—that’s in Balch Springs,” Rob said.
“I meant in south Dallas County, not South Dallas.” Tyro said. There was a tremor in his voice.
“Go on,” Frank ordered.
“Anyway, I sees this nice car, so I check it out, you know, to see if there’s anything I could use. When I flip the handle, the thing opens.”
“You saying you didn’t bust in?” Frank asked.
“Naw, naw, nothing like that. The door was unlocked, I swear.”
“Okay, then what?” Frank tightened his grip a little and the kid winced.
“So, in the ignition was a set of keys. Just like someone walked off and forgot ’em.”
“You see anybody around?” Rob quizzed.
“Naw, nobody. That’s why it was so sweet.”
“I’m having trouble believing this,” Frank whispered.
“I swear, I swear, just like I said. Nice car, unlocked with keys. I had no choice.”
“His story’s easy to verify,” Rob mumbled.
The kid twisted his head. “Yeah, yeah, do that verify stuff—do that.”
Frank gave Tyro his ice-cold stare again. “You sure there was no girl in or around the car?”
“I swear to it on a stack of frigging Bibles.”
Frank slipped the pencil into his pocket. “We’re going to check it out. If we find you’re feeding us a line, we’ll be back. If we discover you’ve complained on us, we’ll see you later. You don’t want us returning. Understand?”
The kid’s head bobbed. “Yeah, yeah, I understand.”
Frank gave his partner a little nod and Rob released the guy. They gathered their notebooks and stood. Frank bent down and got almost nose to nose.
“About what time Sunday night?”
The suspect thought for a second. “Around midnight, maybe a few minutes before.”
Frank nodded. “Last question. Did you put anything in or take anything out of the car?”
Tyro’s eyes were slits as he moved them from side to side. “I found a laptop in the seat and threw it in the trunk.”
“Anything else?”
The kid lowered his head. “Found a hundred bucks in a purse. Stuck the green in my pocket and tossed the purse in the trunk with the laptop.”
“That’s it?”
He looked up. “That’s it.”
Rob unhitched the chair from the door and slid it under the table. Frank pulled off the handkerchief covering the camera and replaced it in his pocket.
“That big, ugly detective will be in here after we leave. We’ll find out what you say to him. If you don’t tell him the same story, we’ll talk again,” Frank said.
* * *
Rob had been half right. The mayor wasn’t waiting outside in the squad area, but about a dozen detectives and the chief were. He and Edna stood together with two other deputy chiefs. The mob moved in their direction.
“Well?” Edna asked.
Rob answered for the pair. “Says he found the car in a Walmart parking lot, unoccupied.”
“You believe him?” the chief asked.
Rob glanced at Frank. His nod was so slight he almost missed it. “Yes, sir,” Rob answered, “but it needs to be checked out. I guess somebody in Auto Theft will do that.”
The chief said, “No, stay on this awhile longer. You have more background information than anyone else. Don’t want to waste time bringing another detective up to speed when you guys have the ball. Run with it.”
Frank was too stunned to answer, but Rob managed a “Yes, sir. We’re on it.”
As they marched out, the chief said, “Don’t lose the scent, boys. Chase it down.”
Neither answered before walking into the hall. Frank was still wondering how he’d gotten lucky enough to keep the investigation. Now that the chief knew this was more than a rebellious teen hiding from her parents, he and Rob should have been off the case. By all rights it should have gone back to the Missing Persons Unit.
“You know, sometimes you scare the shit out of me with that psycho act you do,” Rob said.
Frank didn’t look at him but just kept walking. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes I scare myself.”
They went back to CIU and retrieved their weapons and jackets. Frank felt like he did last summer after getting food poisoning from bas sushi. On the way to the garage, he shook his head and whispered, “I’m never doing that again.”
“What?” Rob asked. “Twist a guy?”
“Yeah. Better ways of doing it. If I just had a couple of days, I know I could have gotten him to talk,” Frank mumbled.
Frank was king of the mind game. Frank could get into a guy’s head and have a full written confession when he walked out of the interview room.
“But we didn’t have a couple of days,” Rob said.
Frank didn’t look at him at him, only nodded.
“Yeah.”
8
Rob swung the city car out of the employee parking lot and hooked a right on Lamar. Frank slumped in the passenger seat, laughing into the phone. From the tone of the conversation, he was talking to a woman.
Frank lowered his voice. “I’ve never had that done to me before. Is it legal?”
Frank laughed again and, much to Rob’s relief, moved on to what he planned to cook her for dinner. He threw out a few suggestions, and she apparently rejected them all. He finally talked her into trying his
chateaubriand and béarnaise sauce with glazed carrots and asparagus baked in butter and garlic. He said good-bye and dropped the phone into his pocket.
“Another dinner date tonight?”
“Nope, Saturday.”
Rob wheeled onto the freeway. “I don’t get it. If you love cooking so much, why become a cop?”
Frank stretched. “Too much work.”
“Huh?”
Frank eyed him. “I enjoy taking my time and preparing something special. If you’re a line cook, or even an executive chef, you’re in a madhouse from six to ten o’clock every night. Not the perfect workplace.” Frank yawned. “I got tired of being Mario Batali’s bitch.”
“Were you any good—as a chef, I mean?”
“Our restaurant won the James Beard Award when I worked there. Yeah, we were all good.”
“Why cook for your dates? Isn’t it easier to just go out?” Rob tried to remember the last time he’d cooked for his wife. He vaguely remembered preparing a box of macaroni and cheese, but that had been at least a year ago.
“Women appreciate having someone prepare a dinner just for them.” Frank readjusted his sunglasses. “They like being fussed over. You cook them dinner, serve a good wine in a relaxed surrounding, and give them a massage—they reward you.”
Rob chuckled. “Tipping the cook, huh?”
Frank closed his eyes and rested his head on the seat. “No less than twenty percent.”
Balch Springs was a small community in southeast Dallas County. When they pulled into the Walmart supercenter twenty minutes later, Rob shook Frank. “We’re here.”
They found the manager’s office and asked to speak with him. His secretary was an older lady who resembled a shorter version of Lucille Ball. When the manager stepped out his office door, she introduced them.
“Mr. McSwain, these gentlemen are with the police.”
McSwain was one of those people who was born to be a manager. Tall, with wire-rimmed glasses, he spoke in short, clipped sentences. “Nice to meet you. What can I do for you today? No trouble, I hope.”
Since it was still technically Rob’s day to ask the questions, he decided to answer the last one first. “No, no trouble.” He flashed his disarming smile. “We’d just like to take a look at your parking lot surveillance tapes.”
“Don’t use tapes. Everything’s digital now. Been tapeless for years.”
Rob nodded. “Of course, that’s what I meant—the digital recordings.”
McSwain looked at Lucille Ball. “Can you show them inside?” He pointed to his office. “I’ll be right with you.”
The cramped space left little room for extra chairs, but two were wedged between boxes stacked to the ceiling. Rob and Frank declined attempting to squeeze into the tight area and stood in front of the desk. Someone had recently eaten an orange; a citrus smell still hung in the air. The door opened and a pimply faced black kid with short hair combed straight down entered, followed by McSwain.
“Brian, these gentlemen want to view a surveillance video from the parking lot,” McSwain said.
“No problem.” The kid dropped into a chair at a workstation and powered up the computer. “What date are we looking for?”
“Last Sunday,” Rob said, “whatever date that was.”
The manager spun around to a calendar behind him.
“The nineteenth,” Brian mumbled, and his fingers flew across the keyboard. “Time?”
“Probably between eleven thirty and midnight,” Frank answered.
The kid scrolled to a menu and highlighted eleven thirty. He hit enter and leaned closer to the screen. A grainy color video of the parking area popped up. Few cars remained in the lot, and a couple of customers strolled toward the entrance, their images punctuated with intermittent static.
Rob edged toward the monitor. “This the best shot you have?”
“We’re scheduled for a system upgrade this summer,” McSwain explained.
Rob shook his head. He hated relying on poor-quality surveillance like this. “We’re looking for a red late-model Audi S4 sedan.”
“Is that an Audi?” Brian pointed to a vehicle at the far end of the dark lot.
Rob scratched his cheek and squinted. “Could be, but the lighting’s so bad it’s hard to tell.”
The manager cleared his throat. “We’re replacing those burned-out bulbs this week.”
Rob turned to Brian. “Can you fast-forward closer to midnight?”
“Sure.” The kid pressed a key and the video raced forward. In the upper right corner of the screen, a digital clock ticked off the time.
“Stop,” Rob said. “There.” He motioned to a figure loitering through the lot toward the Audi. “Is that him?” he asked as he turned to Frank. The digital clock read 11:47.
Frank stepped closer. “That’s Tyro.”
The figure touched the door handle and the interior light flashed on. He swiveled his head from left to right as he leaned into the car. A second later Tyro jumped in and drove off.
“Is that what you were looking for?” McSwain asked.
“Half of it.” Frank moved him aside. He touched Brian’s shoulder. “Reverse the video.”
“Can do.” Brian pecked another key and the video reversed, the digital clock counting down the minutes and seconds. When it got to 11:19, an old pickup truck with a camper appeared on the video beside the Audi.
“Stop.” Frank pointed.
Brian slapped the keyboard and the picture froze. “In slow motion, ease the video backward,” Frank whispered, his chin over the kid’s shoulder. “Can we zoom in on this shot?”
“Not possible,” Brian said.
As the video clocked back, one frame at a time, a tall, bearded man with long hair and a baseball-type cap got out of the Audi. He shut the car door and went to the passenger side of the truck. When he opened the door, the interior light revealed another long-haired man with a full beard and cap in the driver’s seat. They could have been brothers.
“Is that a Dodge?” Frank asked.
“Looks like it,” Rob replied. He eyed McSwain. “We’ll need a copy of that video from the time the Audi parks until the truck leaves.”
Frank gazed at the computer screen a long time. The two long-haired men appeared to have mesmerized him. Rob had given up trying to read Frank’s thoughts a long time ago, but there was something about his expression …
* * *
Rob glanced at Frank. All the way to the police impound lot, he’d been silent. He wasn’t slumped in the seat as usual with his eyes closed. He sat upright, staring at the photo Dora had given them. The girl in the picture looked back. She wore a graduation gown and hat, clutching the diploma to her bosom, her long blonde hair over one shoulder. She had clear blue eyes and a friendly smile.
Rob hated when Frank went introvert. These dreamlike trances didn’t happen often, but when they did, there was no use hurrying them. It was as if Frank’s mind had slipped into another dimension and had neglected to bring his body along.
Finally, as they entered the gate and began driving down lines of vehicles, Frank spoke. “I’m going to find her.”
“Think she’s still alive?”
“Yup.”
“How do you figure?”
Frank assumed his slouched riding position as he slipped the photo inside his coat pocket. “Why go to the trouble of driving her car someplace to be stolen unless you calculated it would buy you time?” He gazed at Rob. “If old Tyro hadn’t been caught by the uniforms, the car might be on its way to Mexico by now. Whoever those guys were, they didn’t want anyone discovering she was missing. It worked. Ms. Mayor didn’t even suspect anything. And if they were only going to rape and kill her, why take the chance of discovery by driving the car from the scene of the crime to the Walmart parking lot?”
Rob nodded. “Makes sense.” He came to a stop at the end of the lot, in front of the missing girl’s wrecked Audi. “Hey, look, Kelly’s still here.” He pointed at the Crime S
cene Unit van parked nearby. The big man wearing a white Tyvek suit and blue plastic gloves handed a box to his assistant and strolled to Frank’s side of the car. Frank rolled down the window. The smell of gasoline and car lubricants drifted in on the breeze.
“Afternoon, Kelly,” Frank said.
Kelly slipped off the gloves and leaned down. “What brings you guys out here?”
Frank pointed to the red car.
Kelly wiped his brow. “I get it. Heard this was the mayor’s ride. It won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
Rob studied the Audi, noting the collapsed front end and the wheel dangling at an awkward angle. Considering the price tag of a vehicle like that, he figured Tyro had shaved a good twenty thousand off the value.
“You finished processing it?” Frank asked.
“Yeah.”
“Get any prints?”
“Lots of them.”
“Any blood evidence?” Rob asked.
Kelly had his mouth open to answer, but hesitated. “Blood evidence? Whose blood? The suspect’s?”
Rob didn’t answer. No use in opening the circle any wider than it already was. Not when the mayor was involved. Frank also stayed silent.
Kelly’s brow furrowed. “For that matter, why’s Criminal Intelligence working this and not Auto Theft?”
Frank didn’t move from his slump in the passenger seat, his gaze still focused ahead, as if they were still on the road.
“If you want an answer to that, you’ll have to call our lieutenant,” Rob said.
Kelly grunted. “Yeah, like I’m going to call Edna. Right.”
“Any blood?” Frank repeated, turning to face Kelly.
Kelly exhaled. “Not a drop. Suspect or otherwise.”
“Find anything of interest?” Rob asked. He opened the car door and stepped out. Frank also got out and posted his hands on his sides, staring at the wrecked car. The sound of gravel crunching filled the silence as Frank approached the Audi for a closer look.
Kelly flipped through an inventory sheet and shook his head. “Laptop, clothes, Bible, purse—the standard stuff. Once we process the contents, we might have something else.”