Snake Skin

by CJ Lyons

  "The victim has a name, Taylor."

  "Yeah, right. The camera you found in Ashley's room belongs to her father, not Tardiff."

  "Is he still at the house?"

  "Hang on, I'll check." She filled in Burroughs while she waited. Taylor returned. "No. The dad's back at his home." He rattled off an address and Burroughs nodded, making an illegal u-turn and ignoring the honking of disgruntled drivers.

  "Do we have a warrant for his place?"

  "Yep. I can meet you there, go over his electronics." Taylor was eager, ready to take credit for cracking the case.

  She hated to remind him that no one would care about the credit unless they found Ashley alive. If the father was involved with her disappearance, the odds of that just took a drastic plunge.

  "Sounds like a plan." She hung up and stared at Burroughs as he finessed the car through the weekend traffic on the Parkway. "What's your beef with schools?"

  He yanked the wheel, cutting off a semi as he changed lanes. "Huh?"

  His pretense of being preoccupied with traffic didn't fool her. "You didn't say a word the entire time we were in there. And don't blame it on the pretty art teacher with the cute ass you couldn't take your eyes off."

  "Hey, I can look, c-can't I?"

  Ahh, when he was angry she caught the slight stutter. Okay, just so it wasn't something bigger, something that might interfere with her search for Ashley. She was silent for a moment. "You're right, my mistake."

  He turned to look at her, a scowl crossing his features. "You thought—Jesus lady, g-get your mind out of the g-gutter, why don't you!"

  "Sorry." She meant it; she should have used more tact. "But this case is technically out of your jurisdiction and last thing I need is some zealot fucking up my case."

  "Just for the record, I was never molested by anyone when I was a kid. Laughed at and picked on 'cause I happened to stutter, yes. But I fought my own battles and no one ever messed with me. Okay?"

  She raised her hands in surrender. "Look, I said I was sorry. It's happened too many times for me to ignore the warning signs is all."

  "Well, I'd say your radar is due for re-calibration."

  "I can't take any chances. Not with a girl's life at stake."

  He relaxed back in his seat and was silent for a moment as they exited the parkway at Regent Square.

  "You're right. If it'd been my case, I'd be suspicious too, I guess." He glanced at her, a smile crossing his features. "You're a pretty smart lady, Guardino." They stopped at a light. A horde of kids were squealing and chasing each other in Frick Park. "So how'd you get into this line of work anyway? If you don't mind me getting personal."

  She chuckled. "Quid pro quo, you mean. No, I was never a victim myself. And none of my family are cops, so can't blame it on that. Guess I'm just a control freak. I have this need to make sense of this crazy world and this seems like the best way to do it."

  "Hanging out with perverts and child molesters helps you make sense of the world?"

  "No. Catching them does."

  Chapter 10

  Saturday, 2:32 pm

  Gerald Yeager's home was a three-bedroom apartment in a glass and steel high-rise complex in Highland Park. One of the few high-rise residential buildings Lucy had seen since arriving here in Pittsburgh, it looked out of place among the two story rowhouses, shops, and single-family homes. The anonymous, cold-blooded building fit Yeager to a T. They arrived before Taylor but Lucy elected not to wait. She called Walden for an update from the building's lobby.

  Nothing yet on Tardiff, except he wasn't a registered sex offender. Mrs. Yeager had agreed to a polygraph but the Mister hadn't. Yeager had also refused to allow a policeman to accompany him home, a phone tap, or a search of his premises. Which, right now, made him suspect numero uno in Lucy's mind.

  Cold, calculating, clever….Yeager was all that.

  Only downside to Yeager being their man was that there was no good reason for him to take the time, risk, and energy to spirit Ashley away unless he wanted her silenced. Permanently.

  Lucy sighed, only half listening as Walden finished his report. She held the phone to her ear while she and Burroughs waited for the elevator. She really didn't want to find another dead kid. Her job was to save the children. At least the best part of her job.

  "I followed up with the Staties about the NCIC report and list of registered sex offenders. Pretty clean neighborhood," Walden continued. "Nearest registry offender is two miles away. I'm letting the troopers handle those."

  Lucy decided his instincts were probably on target. This didn't feel like a stranger-danger quick grab. Just the opposite. Someone had taken the time and energy to devote himself to Ashley's needs—and to have his own gratified as well. "Anything from the hospitals or morgue?"

  "Nope. Dunmar didn't do so bad with the press conference. Their emergency response center is manning the hotline but so far nothing promising other than the cashier."

  "No bus drivers reported anything?" The elevator dinged its arrival. Burroughs held it for her while she finished.

  "No, but you knew that was a long shot." Walden's tone was slightly chiding. She agreed; there would be no easy way out on this case. "Nothing's popped on background checks or financials. Still waiting to hear back from New York on the photographer, Tardiff. You want me to stay here, baby-sit some more or can I turn the duty over to the locals?"

  She wondered if the Sheriff was prepared for the over-time hit their budget was going to take, manning the control center and keeping people at the house with the mom. Not her concern, officially, she was just there to advise and make the locals look good.

  "Hang out there a while longer. I'm taking another crack at the dad, then I'll be back. Call me if anything comes up." She hung up and entered the elevator. Her ears popped as they were hurtled up to the fourteenth floor.

  "Convenient place for dad," Burroughs told her. "The zoo is right down the street, he can walk to work."

  "What kind of man devotes his life to working with snakes and lizards?"

  He arched his eyebrow, a smile quirking at his mouth as if he were about to question her own career choice again. The doors slid open before he could say anything.

  Gerald Yeager did not appear happy to see them. He stood at his door, blocking their view of his personal space, keeping them in the hallway. "Did you find Ashley?"

  "Not yet, Mr. Yeager." Lucy stood so that she was the focus of his attention, leaving Burroughs to observe from the periphery. Observe and watch her back. Something hinky going on with Yeager, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Yet.

  "Then why are you here? You should be out looking for her."

  She noticed he didn't use Ashley's name. Didn't or couldn't? "We need to speak with you. May we come in?"

  "Is this about the lie detector test? I already told you people, I'm her father, I love her. I shouldn't have to prove it." His voice came out flat, allowing no argument.

  His body betrayed him. A band of sweat on his upper lip, the way his gaze dropped to focus on the floor, a shift in his weight as he shrank away from Lucy.

  She decided to take a gamble. "Actually, Gerald, I'm here about the camera. Your camera. The one I found in Ashley's room."

  Bingo. The transformation from outraged parent to cowering liar took only two heartbeats. As if he'd been waiting for this moment, waiting for his lies to catch up with him. Shoulders drooping, Yeager walked away from them, leaving the door open.

  Lucy followed, Burroughs on her heels. The detective still had his hand near his service piece, but she didn't think he'd need it. The dangerous part was usually when you confronted the denials, challenged the carefully constructed web of lies, not after they already admitted defeat.

  "I'm sorry about the pictures," Yeager said, dropping down into a black leather recliner. The entire room was done in black and chrome, a match to Melissa Yeager's kitchen. As if their entire married life had been devoid of color. "But they have nothing to do with A
shley—well, they do, but not the way you mean."

  Lucy slanted a look at Burroughs who merely shrugged. She sat down on the leather sofa, her knee mere inches away from Yeager's. "Why don't you start from the beginning."

  "It wasn't my weekend, I wasn't supposed to have her. I mean, I have a right to my own life, you know?"

  "The weekend when Ashley ran away and came here? What did she find, Gerald? Something that scared her?"

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands, muffling his words. "Yeah. Then she got angry—said I didn't love her, that I never had."

  When he didn't look up, she knew Ashley had probably been right. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. Her voice low, secretive. A keeper of confidences. "What did Ashley see, Gerald?"

  He blew out his breath. Then he looked up, not meeting her gaze but looking past her, out the window, searching for an escape. "A friend of mine. Mark. He's the one in the pictures. I know he looks young, but he's really 23, we're two consenting adults. I swear, I didn't even know Ashley stole the camera until a week later when she called. She threatened to tell her mother about Mark unless I let her come live with me."

  "What did you say?"

  "I'm not going to let my own kid blackmail me." He sat up straight, looked her in the eye once more. "Should have known, growing up in that house, with that woman, she'd never learn any respect."

  "So Ashley told her mother? About you and Mark?"

  "Her mother already knows. Why do you think we split up? I told Ashley that, said I didn't care if her mother saw the pictures. After that she stopped talking to me." He sighed as if he were the injured party. "All I did for that kid, and she cut me out of her life, just like that."

  Right, it was all her fault. "Mr. Yeager, do you have a computer?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Good. One of my technicians will need to take a look at it. Is there anything on there that might cause problems?"

  He shook his head. "No, just more photos of Mark and me. Go ahead, you can look anywhere you want."

  The phone rang and Yeager jumped. He looked to Lucy for permission before answering it. She nodded her assent.

  "Hello?" Yeager's face creased into a scowl of anger and worry. Lucy tensed—was it Ashley? A ransom demand? "I'm on my way. Get the others back inside before any harm comes to any specimens."

  He slammed the phone down. "Someone stole my specimens. I have to go."

  "Mr. Yeager, we need you here. In case Ashley calls."

  He blinked. He'd forgotten about Ashley. Lucy exchanged glances with Burroughs.

  "But—"

  Burroughs gave it a try. "Surely your assistants can care for your—ah—specimens?"

  Yeager slumped back in his seat.

  "Were they poisonous?" Lucy asked, thinking of the snake handlers. Maybe Pastor Walter's flock had tried to replenish their serpent supply.

  "Poisonous? No, of course not. They're harmless. I'm not sure why anyone would want forty-two Colubridae. They're not exotic, not worth anything."

  "Probably just a prank," Burroughs reassured him. "Kids playing."

  A knock rattled the door. Taylor, right on time with the warrants. The technician got busy with the computer while Burroughs and Lucy searched the guest bedroom where Ashley stayed. Nothing except some toiletries and a pair of baggy pajamas.

  "Mr. Yeager, now that we've discussed everything, would you mind taking a polygraph?"

  Yeager shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

  "We'll also have someone stopping by to monitor things. In case Ashley calls," she added.

  It seemed best to have someone keep an eye on the father. Now that she'd wrung all his secrets from him, she doubted he had anything to do with Ashley's disappearance, but she'd been wrong before. No sense taking any chances.

  Once they were back in the elevator heading down, Burroughs slouched against the wall.

  They reached the lobby and headed out to the car.

  "Where to now, boss?" Burroughs asked as he turned the ignition on.

  "Back to Ashley's house." Lucy plopped down into the passenger seat, feeling discouraged. "Think you can have your precinct guys keep an eye on Yeager?"

  "We call them zones here in Pittsburgh."

  "Right. And someone needs to talk to Yeager's boyfriend."

  "The infamous Mark." The car had warmed up considerably, basking in the eighty-five degree sunshine. He turned on the AC and pulled out onto the street. "I'll do it myself if you don't have something more constructive for me to do."

  "I wish I had something more constructive for me to do. I hate this part, the waiting part. But until we crack her computer and finish tracking phone calls there's not a whole lot more to do."

  He turned a corner and they pulled up to a Eat 'n Park. "Sure there is. We can have lunch, recharge."

  She said nothing. Food was the farthest thing from her mind and she doubted she would taste anything she ate. Dammit, there had to be something more she could be doing.

  No fourteen-year-old's life could be such a dead end.

  Burroughs didn't give her any choice, getting out of the car and waiting for her to join him. He held a small thermos.

  "Refilling the coffee?"

  "I wish. My testing gear and insulin. I carry it in case my pump fails, but it needs to stay cold."

  "Jeezit, Burroughs. You should have said something, we could've stopped sooner."

  "I'm good. Snuck a protein bar before we left the house." He shrugged. "Got it down to a science. Go ahead and grab us a booth and I'll be back in a jiff."

  The restaurant was busy, but a wave of her credentials got Lucy the next available table. While she perused the menu and waited for Burroughs, she called Taylor and got an update.

  "Got the LUDs from mom's phone. The call that woke her this morning came from Ashley's cell phone."

  Lucy dropped the menu she was holding. Damn, maybe Burroughs was right. Ashley was playing a game—tormenting her mother for starters. "You're kidding. Got a location?"

  "Not yet. Since the call already happened…"

  "It will take time." She was all too familiar with the routine. "Anything on dad's computer?"

  "Some guy on guy stuff, nothing illegal. No suspicious web browsing. I'll comb through his emails later, but I want to get back to Ashley's unit."

  "Why? Think you have something?"

  "I don't know what it means, but I was right. Her hard drive was scrubbed."

  "English, Taylor."

  "A program was used to overwrite all the sectors multiple times. It's the same thing the government does to clean hard drives before disposing of them."

  "You mean a fourteen-year-old kid somehow got access to a government program?" Boy, that opened up a whole huge can of worms.

  "That's the problem. These programs have been around for years—they're used by every level of government and also available on the web. Anyone could have sent it to her or she could have googled it for herself."

  "Well hell, that doesn't help." Lucy squeezed a lemon into her water. It felt so good to wring the life out of something right now. A stray seed caught in her wedding ring and she flicked it clear.

  "It might if I can trace it back to its source. Anyway, I'm working a reconstruction program. It compares each sector on the hard drive then—"

  "How long?"

  "Maybe as early as tomorrow. If we're lucky."

  "I need it sooner. And don't let up on her ISP. We need her emails and instant messages."

  "They promised them this afternoon."

  "Hey, is Fletcher still around?"

  "The ICE guy? Haven't seen him. But you know, some people actually take weekends off. Besides, I've got things covered here." Taylor was territorial with sharing "his" cases with other agencies.

  "He worked a bust with me this morning."

  "How come I wasn't in on it?"

  "Because it wasn't your case." It was like running a nursery school, reassuring the boys they'
d all have their chance to play. "Anyway, do me a favor and call him, let him know I'll need him tomorrow morning. We're going to bring in the Canadians—it's some kind of bank holiday up north this weekend and they're taking advantage of the long weekend."

  His snort of disapproval carried through the phone. "Yeah, some holiday, taking a tour to meet a little kid for sex."

  "Call me when you find anything." She hung up just as Burroughs slid into the seat across from her.

  "So, how's your kid?" he asked, nodding to her phone.

  Guilt flushed her. She needed to call home. "It was Taylor. Nothing new."

  "Uh-huh." He looked at her over top of his menu. "Taylor. He has a thing for you, you know."

  She waved his comment aside. Last thing she needed was watercooler gossip. "He's just excited. First big case."

  "I can't get over how well orchestrated this was," were his first words after ordering a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. "Scripted."

  Lucy shook her head without even realizing it. Stopped herself and masked her emotions. Best not to get too involved—baring that, at least not to reveal her involvement. But Ashley's artwork had tipped the scales for her. Such raw pain, gnawing despair. "Not by Ashley."

  "Of course by Ashley. Who else?"

  "No. I don't think she's in control."

  "So you think she was coerced? That she's a victim?" He tilted his head, thinking, then frowned. "No. I don't buy it. She's been planning this a long time—maybe all summer if what the mom said is right. She had a definite objective, knew exactly what she was doing, we just need to figure out where she's headed."

  "We can't write her off as a routine runaway," Lucy protested. She didn't care if the evidence so far indicated otherwise, she had to go with her gut.

  "Oh, I don't think there's anything routine about it. I think Ashley's leading us on a wild goose chase—she is in control. And we're just puppets."

  "She's only fourteen for chrissakes."

  "A fourteen year-old-who is smart, knows what she wants, and had the resources and freedom to put her plan in action. Trust me, she's playing us."

  Even though she disagreed with him, it was too early in the case to ignore any possibility. "Okay, walk me through it."