by Larry Enmon
“Give us a call if anything turns up,” Frank said.
Kelly nodded. “Will do.” He meandered to the CSU van, stripping off the Tyvek suit. Throwing it inside, he hopped into the passenger seat, and the van eased toward the exit. Rob and Frank strolled around the wrecked vehicle, peeking inside.
“Little rich girl’s car,” Frank mumbled as he walked around the wreck. He opened the passenger door and raked his finger through the fine powder on the seat. The deployed airbag had coated the interior with tiny white flakes.
“Not much here,” Rob said.
“And whatever was here is now screwed up with this stuff.” Frank dusted his hands.
Rob paced back to their car. “Ready to go?”
Frank didn’t answer. He just stared at the Audi. After a few seconds, he eyed the lot of crashed and impounded vehicles as if he’d lost something. He had slipped the girl’s photo from his pocket. He glanced at it and tucked it back into his jacket without comment.
Rob studied him but didn’t ask what he was thinking. This was probably Frank just being Frank.
* * *
At about four thirty, Rob and Frank pulled into the employee parking garage.
“I’ll report in. See you tomorrow,” Frank said.
“Any use in me arguing the point?” Rob asked.
“Nope. Go see about Carmen. Tell her I said hello.”
Five minutes later, Frank, Terry, and Edna stood around the television in Terry’s office scrutinizing the surveillance video. Edna had that eye twitch thing going. She constantly cleared her throat and wrung her hands. Terry was probably on his fourth pot of the day, sipping a cup as the video played.
“You think she was in the truck?” Edna whispered.
“Good chance,” Frank said.
They watched until the truck pulled away. Terry leaned in inches from the screen. “Can’t read the plate number.”
Frank shook his head. “Nope, truck’s driving parallel to the camera angle.” He pointed. “Notice when it makes a right on Lake June Road. There’s no license plate light.”
Edna cleared her throat again. “Either burnt out or conveniently removed. Do we have another camera shot on the lot?”
“No, this is it,” Frank answered.
The video ended and Terry said, “So, we’re looking for an old, dark-color Dodge pickup with a camper shell occupied by two rednecks in Dallas. That narrows it down.” He smirked. “Wish we had a clearer picture of those guys. As it is, not even their mother could recognize them.”
Edna appeared lost in thought. She checked her watch. “It’s almost five. Got to make a call to the chief’s office.” She trotted out, checking her watch again.
Terry sat in his chair. “You were right.”
“Huh?”
“You were right about the girl.” Terry’s brow crinkled. “How did you know she’d been taken?”
Frank didn’t answer for a few seconds. He shrugged. “Sometimes I just feel things more than know them.”
“Sixth sense? You’re blessed.”
“She’s still alive, Terry. I know she’s alive.” It was Frank’s gut, not hope, talking to him.
Terry stood. “Perhaps, but don’t put that in any official report. For that matter, don’t even say it outside this office. The last thing we need is to get people’s hopes up and then have them crushed when a body shows up. Edna says the chief has instructed us to return the girl’s personal property to the mayor after Forensics is done. Shoot them a call tomorrow and pick it up.”
“Will do.”
“Missing Persons and Auto Theft are working the case now. Everything’s being entered into NCIC.”
“They still want us working it?”
Terry set his coffee mug on the desk and stretched his back. “Until the chief pulls you off.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
Frank looked Terry directly in the eyes. “For keeping this case in CIU.”
Frank left Terry’s office, his biggest fear behind him now. He’d been terrified he and Rob would have to hand over their work to the detectives in the Missing Persons Unit. He couldn’t have stood that. If he knew Terry like he thought he did, he’d gone to bat for them keeping the thing. Terry wasn’t above pulling a string or two. And he knew the same thing Frank felt in his gut: this was his case now, and he was going to solve it.
9
Frank arrived in CIU two hours earlier the next morning. He hadn’t slept well. Now that the case belonged to him, his mind had rousted him from sleep and demanded he go to work. He flipped on the lights in the squad area, powered up his computer, and reviewed his notes from the day before. He was almost finished typing up his report when his desk phone rang, startling him. In the dead morning silence of the usually noisy squad room, it sounded like a burglar alarm. He grabbed the receiver.
“Detective Pierce.”
“You’re in early. Didn’t know you guys came in before ten.” Kelly chuckled. “We’ve wrapped up the forensics on the property in the car. Got hair, prints, and a few trace fibers. Let you know if anything turns up after the analysis is done.”
“I’ll come by and collect it.”
“Huh?”
Frank lowered his voice. “If you haven’t heard by now, you will soon. The mayor’s nineteen-year-old daughter was in that car, and she’s still missing.”
“No shit?”
“Yup. They want her personal property returned to the mayor.”
“Won’t that screw up the chain of custody?”
Frank scratched his forehead. “Probably, but I’m guessing the chief gave his blessing or Terry wouldn’t have told me to do it. Besides, it’s not going anywhere. Not like the mayor’s going to throw it out.”
“Yeah, see what you mean. Okay, we’ll hold it for you.”
“As soon as Rob makes it in, we’ll stop by.”
Frank hung up and opened his browser. His cell rang. The caller was Rob.
“Forgot, I have court today,” Rob said. “Should be out by lunch. Anything going on?”
Frank assumed his usual slouch in his desk chair. “Sorting through the case file. We have lots to do.”
The thought of returning to the mayor’s home wasn’t something Frank found pleasant. He’d wait till after lunch and take Rob with him. Edna swished in a few minutes later, complaining about a two-hour staff meeting. She dropped her bag and armload of notebooks on her desk and made her way to Frank’s cube.
“Any news?”
“They finished the forensics.”
She looked around. “Where’s Rob?”
“Court. Be in later.”
“Go ahead and run that stuff to the mayor’s house. Don’t want it sitting around here if the chief calls and inquires.” She marched toward Terry’s office before Frank could reply.
He rode the elevator grudgingly to the fifth floor, checked the property out of the lab, and hauled it down to his car. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to the mayor’s gate. The ivy-covered mansion loomed at the end of the long drive. He pressed the call button and a formal voice echoed from the speaker on the pole.
“Your business?”
“Police, to see Mrs. Wallace.”
The gate didn’t open immediately. He reached his hand out to press the call button again just as it started moving. He parked in the same spot he and Rob had the other day, near the fountain. Frank slid the evidence box, overflowing with the girl’s personal items, to the edge of the seat and hoisted it, making his way up the walk. He rang the bell twice before the door swung open.
Oh hell.
“Mrs. Wallace … I expected Dora.”
She had on the same robe she’d worn on his last visit, but her face appeared to have withered. She wore no makeup, and her hair was matted as if she’d just gotten out of bed.
“What can I do for you, Detective Pierce?” Her voice had a weary, aggravated tone.
Better make this quick. Frank cleared his throat and rea
ched into his jacket, handing her Katrina’s apartment key. “The mayor requested your daughter’s property be returned after we finished processing it.”
She gazed at the box and snapped. “I requested it. Don’t want Trina’s things sitting in some dark corner somewhere. Especially a police station.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She opened the door wider. “Bring it in.” She led him to a large table in the center of the foyer that held an arrangement of yellow bird-of-paradise flowers. “Here.” She pointed to the edge of the table.
Frank sat the box down and pulled an evidence “chain-of-custody” form out of his jacket. He unfolded it and spread it on the table. “Please, sign here.”
He gave her his pen, and she shot him an evil stare before she scribbled her name at the bottom.
“Thank you.” He folded the form and slipped it back into his jacket. “We’re doing all we can to find her. I know how you must feel.” He threw that last part in as a way of making peace. Has to be hard on her.
She glared at him. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you know how I feel? Do you have any children?”
“No, I’m not married.”
“I thought as much. I know your type.”
Frank didn’t answer. He’d said too much already. He headed for the door.
“This doesn’t belong to Trina.”
“What?” He stopped walking and turned.
She tapped an item in the evidence box encased in clear plastic. “I said, this is not Trina’s.”
Frank wasn’t sure how to respond. Had the forensic techs mixed up the evidence with another case? Was this someone else’s property? Crap, he should have checked it before he brought it out.
“I don’t understand. That’s not your daughter’s stuff?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes and a condescending grin swept across her lips. “Yes, I recognize the sweater, and that looks like her laptop and purse, but this isn’t hers.” She kept tapping the plastic bag in the box.
He moved closer. Her finger rested on a white book, “Holy Bible” embossed in gold ink across the front.
He eyed her. “You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” She sighed.
Frank slipped the knife from his pocket and made a neat slit in the heavy plastic evidence bag. He removed the Bible and handed it to her. “Better check it out to be sure.”
Anger flashed in her face. “I don’t have to check it out. It’s not hers.”
“How do you know if you don’t look? Perhaps her name’s on the inside.”
She spoke slowly, as if addressing a dull child. “Trina doesn’t own a Bible, doesn’t attend church, and to my knowledge has no faith.” Her eyes challenged him to argue. Ms. Mayor refused to accept or even touch the Bible.
“I see.” He tucked it under his arm. “Better check the rest of the items to make sure they’re in order.”
She rummaged through the bag, pulling out things for a better look. “Everything else appears okay, although I can’t for the life of me understand what possessed her to buy this purse.” She dangled the red-and-white striped thing in the air with thumb and forefinger. “It’s ghastly.”
“I’ll be on my way then.” He scurried out the door.
That didn’t go as planned. Who the hell screwed up in the crime lab and left me holding the bag? Wait a minute. Hadn’t Kelly said something about a Bible the day before? Yeah, he’d said laptop, clothes, Bible, and a purse.
Frank opened the Bible to the dedication page—blank. He thumbed through it for anything hidden between the pages—nothing. Ms. Mayor was so certain her daughter couldn’t have owned it that she refused to even discuss the matter. So if the kid had found religion, why keep a dime bag of grass in her apartment? He mulled that over and concluded that lots of people who find religion probably smoke, no big deal. But there hadn’t been any sign of Christian or church literature in the apartment. Did that matter? Probably not. His cell rang.
“Pierce.”
“Ready to eat?” Rob asked.
“Sure, meet you at Sarge’s.”
Ten minutes later, Frank pulled into the bar parking lot and Rob pushed off the wall, strolling to his car. Frank opened the door but paused, staring at the Bible in the passenger seat for a moment before picking it up. “How was court?” he asked, stepping out onto the hot asphalt.
Rob squinted in the sun’s bright glare. “Didn’t need me. Guy pled out.”
When they wandered into the cool, dim interior, Jan looked up from the bar where she was slicing a sandwich. Jan always wore a smile. A bit surprising, because she was married to Sarge. “Have a seat, boys. We’ll be right with you.”
The place was hopping. They flopped onto two stools at the bar.
Sarge slapped the counter. “What’ll it be?”
“Two sandwiches and two cherry Cokes,” Rob replied.
“Better make mine a double,” Frank added.
Sarge looked up as he was grabbing the glasses. “I don’t think so.”
Frank laid the Bible face down on the bar. “What if I told you I wasn’t on duty?”
Sarge studied him. “So, is that what you’re telling me—that you’re not on duty?”
Frank hesitated a second too long.
“Figures.” Sarge sat the drinks on the bar and shoved them to the pair. “Say, did you hear about the mayor’s kid?”
Rob nodded. “Yeah, that’s tough.”
“Any leads?”
“How would we know?” Rob said.
Sarge gave them a sideways glance, throwing a bar towel over his shoulder. “Liar. You’re the primary investigators. Don’t ever try pulling any shit over on me.”
Rob and Frank exchanged stares and sipped their drinks. Jan finished making their sandwiches and slid them across the bar.
Frank bit into his, glanced at Sarge, and grinned. He’d upgraded to Dijon mustard.
They ate in silence for five minutes before Frank asked Rob, “You searched the girl’s living room and kitchen. Find any religious stuff?”
Rob shook his head, looking down as he searched his memory. “No, nothing. Why?”
“There was a Bible in her property when I dropped it off at the mayor’s house. Just wondering if it’s hers.”
“Who else’s could it be?”
“Ms. Mayor didn’t seem to think it belonged to her daughter.”
“How else could it have gotten there?”
Frank dabbed his lips with the napkin, running through the possibilities. “There is one person who might know.”
10
The same odor that permeated the interview rooms at the PD also hung heavy in the Lew Sterrett/North Tower Jail, amplified a dozen times. The Dallas County Sheriff’s Department didn’t waste money on deodorant or comfort. With its drab colors and claustrophobic atmosphere, the place felt more like a prison than a county lockup.
Rob ran a hand over his buzz cut and leaned back in the rickety chair. “You know we’re wasting our time, right?”
Frank sat in the chair to his left, resting his hand across the Bible on the table. “Probably.”
A large sheriff’s deputy escorted Tyro across the threshold. He was dressed in the standard jail uniform: a white jumpsuit. His eyes widened when he saw them, and he dug in his heels. “Not you guys again.”
The deputy gave all 130 pounds of Tyro a shove from behind, and he stumbled forward. He quickly regained his footing, turned to the door, and ran into the bull chest of the deputy. “I don’t want to talk these guys. They’re crazy and hurt people,” Tyro said.
The deputy spun him around and pushed him toward the interview chair.
Rob flashed a smile. “He’s just a little shy.”
“Shy, my ass. I’m out of here.” Tyro again rushed for the door.
The deputy grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pushed him into the chair. “You want me to hold him or leave?”
“Doesn’t matter,” F
rank said. “We’re only going to ask him one question.”
Tyro’s gaze shifted to Frank as he slowly withdrew a pencil from his jacket and laid it on the table. Tyro’s eyes bulged and his body stiffened.
“Just one question.” Frank spun the pencil around on the table. He leaned closer and nodded at Tyro. “When I asked you if you put anything in or removed anything from the car, you told me you only got money from the purse. And then threw it and a laptop in the trunk. Remember?”
Tyro’s lips trembled.
“You staying with that?”
“Yeah, sure. That’s all I did.” Tyro wiped sweat from his brow and shifted in the chair.
Frank leaned a little closer still and lifted the pencil. Tyro squirmed.
“So, you’re saying you didn’t leave anything in the car?”
Tyro looked at Rob, then at the deputy, as if he thought it might be a trick question. “Naw, I didn’t leave nothing.”
“Ever seen this?” Frank held up the Bible.
“Yeah, it was in the passenger’s seat when I got in.”
“You didn’t put it there?” Frank asked.
Tyro scanned the faces of the group again. His brow furrowed, and he stared at Frank. “Naw. Why would I do that? I don’t even have no Bible.”
Frank smirked. “Now, I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, you can believe it,” Tyro said, looking at the door again as if waiting for a last-minute reprieve. “Besides … I’m Muslim.”
“Oh, really?” A wicked grin crept across Frank’s lips.
Rob shook his head, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Frank wasn’t very good at suffering fools gladly.
“Which branch—Sunni or Shia?” Frank said, as if he were really interested in the answer.
Tyro’s eyes narrowed. “Say, what?”
“We finished here?” Rob sighed.
Frank nodded. “Yup.”
The deputy hauled Tyro out of the room with a contented sneer glued to his lips.
“Satisfied?” Rob asked.
Frank stood and picked up the Bible, examining it.
Rob hiked into the corridor to the elevators and pushed the button.
Frank followed. “You know what this reminds me of?”