Abducted: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  “What do you want?” she asked. She looked to be twenty, twenty-two. Smallish. Maybe five two, one ten. Her body was firm. Her short hair was brown, as were her eyes.

  “Information,” I said.

  “You a cop?” she asked.

  “Private investigator.”

  “You know who he is?”

  “That's why I'm here.”

  She nodded.

  “You want a beer?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Coffee? It's already made.”

  “No. But thanks for offering.”

  “Mind if I have coffee?”

  I looked at Kyle. He was still sleeping peacefully. I stood and gestured toward the kitchen. “Go ahead,” I said.

  She went into the kitchen. I followed her and stood where I could see Kyle and her as she poured a cup of coffee and added some half and half. She went past me back to the chair and sat down, pulling her legs up under her. I went back to my spot on the sofa.

  “What's your name?” I asked.

  “Nikki. What's yours?”

  “Jake.”

  She took a sip of coffee. “So what kind of information are you looking for, Jake?”

  Her calm demeanor grew out of the confident intelligence that lingered behind her lively eyes.

  Kyle moaned. Nikki and I looked at him. He moved one arm.

  “How long have you been with Kyle?”

  “Since he got out.”

  “Why?”

  “True love.” I couldn’t tell whether she was being serious or sarcastic.

  “Know anything about a woman named Monica Nolan?”

  Nikki shook her head and took another sip of coffee.

  Kyle groaned again and began to move. He was coming around.

  “Who is she?” Nikki asked

  “A private investigator who was abducted this morning.”

  “And you think Kyle had something to do with it?”

  “He may have,” I said.

  “I don't think so,” Nikki said. “But you'll have to ask him.”

  Kyle turned over and blinked his eyes at the ceiling a couple of times trying to focus. He sat up and looked at me, confused. After a moment, he frowned and said, “Who are you?”

  “Jake Badger.”

  He thought about that.

  “No,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “I just told you.”

  He shook his head. “No one's ever put me out cold like that. Who are you?”

  “Where were you four years ago?” I asked.

  “Chino Men's.”

  “Ever get TV privileges?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ever watch cage fighting?”

  “All the time. Big fan.”

  “Jake Badger,” I said again.

  He looked at me blankly for a moment before the light dawned in his eyes.

  “You're that Jake Badger?”

  I nodded. I don't think he realize he was still sitting on the floor.

  “This is so cool,” he said. Looking at Nikki, he said, “I fought Jake Badger.”

  Nikki sighed and said, “You lost. Why is it cool?”

  “Because I fought Jake Badger. And he kicked my ass.” He shifted his gaze to me. “Jake Badger. Thanks, man. This is an honor.”

  “Sure,” I said. “My pleasure.”

  He smiled and nodded. And then asked, “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “When you were in Chino Men's,” I said, “did your cousin James talk to you about a woman named Monica Nolan?”

  He thought a moment and nodded. “Yeah. He said she shot Eddie. He wanted to get even. Wanted me to do it. I told him no. Told him when I got out I was going to make some changes. Gonna get a real job, man. Not gonna go back. I'm taking online classes. Gonna be a math teacher.”

  “A math teacher?”

  “I'm good at math. I offered a class inside. Helped lots of guys.”

  I was having a hard time imagining a context where Kyle Dell could be hired to teach math.

  I looked at Nikki. She nodded. “He's gifted. Been playing with the Riemann hypothesis lately.”

  Whatever that was. I said, “That's good Kyle. That's good. Someone abducted Monica this morning. Any idea who might have done that?”

  Kyle shook his head. “Once I told him no, Jimmy never talked to me about it again.”

  “You think he found someone else to do it?” I asked.

  “Don't know,” he said. “But if someone took her ...?” He shrugged. His bottom lip coming out a little.

  I watched him for a moment. He sat on the floor like a big kid waiting for me to say something. I was pretty sure he hadn't taken Monica. I looked at Nikki. She returned my gaze, rather coolly, I thought.

  “Kyle,” I said, “did you talk with Nikki about James and what he asked you to be involved in?”

  He shook his head. “Didn't tell her nothing. Nikki's good for me. Don't want her knowing nothing about Chino or that kind of life.”

  I shifted my eyes back to her.

  “I'm taking classes, too,” she said. “Cooking school. We're trying to make something of ourselves.”

  I believed both of them. I stood up. “I'm sorry if I hurt you Kyle. Monica's very special to me and I'm worried about her. I need to find her quickly.”

  “Want me to talk to James? See if he had anything to do with it?”

  “You would do that?” I asked.

  “For you? You bet. I can go see him tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Will he tell you the truth?”

  “He will if I threaten him with Thrasher.”

  “Thrasher?” I said.

  “Thrasher runs the cell block Jimmy's on. Thrasher's big and mean and he owes me a favor. If I threaten Jimmy with Thrasher, he'll tell me the truth.”

  The business card I'd given to Kyle was on the floor next to him. I pointed to it. “You've got my number. Call me?”

  “You bet.”

  Chapter 5

  Monday Afternoon and Evening … Tuesday Morning

  It was almost four when I left Kyle and Nikki. I called Alex as I was getting on the freeway to head back to Studio City.

  “How'd it go with Dell?” he asked.

  “A rough beginning, a good ending. Turns out he's a fight fan.”

  “He know anything about Monica?”

  I told him what Kyle had said and what he'd offered to do.

  “You think he'll get the truth out of James?”

  “He thinks he will. We'll see what he comes up with tomorrow. You have time to make any calls about Monica's military files?”

  “Yeah. It's not going to be easy or fast if we go through channels.”

  I went by Mildred's and picked up Wilson. She asked how things were going, so I spent five minutes updating her. Then I took Wilson to the park so he could sniff and mark his territory and I could try to calm down and think. I was angry and worried. No, not worried. Scared. I had just realized I loved Monica, and now someone had taken her. I wanted her back. I needed her back. And I'd get her back. I'd go through an army if I needed to. But I needed to calm down and work rationally. Beating people up wasn't the most effective way to get what I wanted… what I needed. Thinking my way through it was better than fighting my way through it.

  On the way home, I stopped by the deli and got myself a pastrami on rye and a turkey on whole wheat. When we got home, I fed Wilson his normal dry food and ate the pastrami. When Wilson finished his dog food, I gave him half of the turkey sandwich. I ate the other half. I watched a few minutes of the evening news and then put Kenny G on the stereo. I downloaded Monica's contacts list and began calling everyone I thought she might contact. She hadn't contacted any of them. Tomorrow I'd give her phone to Alex so the FBI could go through it.

  I had just put Monica’s phone down when my phone rang. It was Monica’s mother.

  “I know you haven’t had much time yet,” she said, apologetically. “Only a few hours, really. But, have you
found her?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Has anyone contacted you?”

  “No. I was just hoping you might have some good news.”

  “Not yet,” I said, again. “I’m sorry. We’re working on it though.” I explained about going through Monica’s files and interviewing two people of interest. She listened patiently.

  “I know you’re doing everything you can,” she said, “and I don’t mean to be a bother.”

  “Patty, you’re not being a bother. You’re concerned about your daughter. I understand that. If I were in your place, I’d be calling all the time.”

  “You’ve very kind. Monica said you were.”

  “We’ll find her, Patty. We’ll find her.”

  I could hear her struggling with her emotions.

  “One time,” she said, “when Monica was seven, she ran away from home. She wanted to play little league baseball. Her father said, no. Back then, girls weren’t allowed to play. It hadn’t integrated yet. She didn’t understand. She thought her father was just being mean, so she ran away. She took a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut better, a kitchen knife, a change of clothes and her teddy bear, stuffed it all in a pillow case and went into the woods on the other side of the train tracks. She was gone about seven hours.”

  The thought of it made me smile.

  “Worst seven hours of my life,” Patty said. “Until now.”

  I understood how she felt. “If no one contacts you,” I said, “or if you don’t hear from me before nine or ten tomorrow evening, call me. We’ll talk some more.”

  It was only eight thirty. I wasn't tired. So I went to the gym and lifted weights. I thought about Monica the whole time. I could see a lanky seven-year-old, pillow case slung over her shoulder, stalking off into the woods, scowling at the unfairness of not being allowed to play ball with the boys. I wondered if she’d gone into the army as a way of demonstrating that she could compete in a man’s world.

  I got home at ten and called it a day.

  Wilson and I went for our morning run and got to the office a little before eight. Detective Branch had given me her card, which included her cell phone. I called her.

  “Detective Branch.”

  “Morning, Kimberly. I hope I'm not calling too early.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Jake Badger.”

  “Mr. Badger. No, it's not too early.”

  “Good. And I hope you'll call me Jake.”

  “Sure. How can I help you, Jake?”

  “I was wondering if you had come up with anything on a possible Esposito connection.”

  “Still looking into it,” she said. “Soon as I have something, I'll call.”

  I thanked her and clicked off. Then I called Jessie Garcia, a friend of mine. Jessie’s a former Navy SEAL who works for the DEA. He's assigned to the San Diego office, keeping an eye on the cartels and the drugs they bring across the border.

  “Jake,” Jessie said when he answered his cell. “I was just thinking about you. How's your recovery coming along?”

  “Fine until yesterday morning,” I said.

  “What happened yesterday morning?”

  “Monica was taken.”

  There was silence for a moment, then, “Know who took her?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Know why?”

  “Our working hypothesis,” I said, “is revenge.”

  “How can I help?”

  “We're looking at Monica's case files to see if there’s someone who might be angry enough to attempt something like this. But we're also wondering if someone in Esposito's organization might be involved.”

  “Might be,” Jessie said. “Got to be a lot of people pissed off about what happened. Let me ask the people who know more about Esposito's organization than I do and see what they have to say.”

  “That'd be great. I appreciate it.”

  “I'll get back to you.”

  I took a break to put the coffee on so Mildred could feed her caffeine addiction when she arrived. I also put a cup of tea for myself in the microwave. While it was brewing, I checked my email. Nothing there that needed my immediate attention.

  Before my tea was ready, my cell phone rang. It was my father.

  “Jake,” the voice synthesizer said. “How are you this morning?”

  He didn’t know what had happened. “Not all that great, Dad. Monica’s been abducted.”

  There was silence for a moment and then typing. My father had had a stroke a year ago that left him partially paralyzed on his left side and unable to speak. He still had full use of his right hand. I had gotten him a voice synthesizer computer program that would read aloud what he typed into his computer. He would type with his right hand and then click a speak button. The computer would then read what he’d typed. He could make a phone call using his cell phone. He called me often. He’d type his opening comment, call me, set the phone next to his computer, turn on the speaker, and after I answered, click the speak button. The computer would read what he’d typed. Then he could carry on a conversation by typing brief responses to whatever I said.

  I waited while he typed.

  “I am sorry to hear that, Son. Have the kidnappers made contact yet?”

  “No. And I don’t think they will.” I explained why and gave him a run down of what had happened so far.

  He typed.

  “I know this is very difficult for you, Son. But I also know you will find her. Stay calm. Work the case. You can do it.”

  My father was not a very emotional man. When I was younger, I thought him uncaring. But as I had matured, I realized that he cared deeply. He just cared differently. He and I were closer now than we had been when I was a boy. At least, I felt close to him. I understood what he was saying. And he was right. I needed to be calm and rational.

  “You’re right, Dad. And with Alex and Frank helping, I’m sure we’ll find her.”

  More typing.

  “If you need to talk, Son, give me a call.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  My tea was ready. I sat back and enjoyed a few sips and thought about how to bypass army protocol in accessing Monica's case files from when she was an MP. I decided to call Sargent Vincent Spearman. Vince and I worked together on a couple of army-marine joint operations in Afghanistan. We were both snipers. We got into a couple of tight spots. You tend to make friends quickly when you have to depend on another person for survival. We had stayed in touch over the years, so I knew that Vince was currently stationed at Fort Irwin, in the desert near Barstow. I called him.

  “Spearman,” he said.

  “Is this the same Vinnie Spearman who once got lost in the Afghanistan hills and had to have a marine lead him out?”

  “Jake Badger. Ha! The way I remember it, you were the one who got lost and I had to lead you out of the hills.”

  “Memory problems already,” I said. “And you being such a young man. It's a shame.”

  Vince laughed. “How you doing, Jake?”

  “Been better,” I said. And I explained recent events and what I needed.

  Vince took a deep breath. “Getting into her old case files without official authorization is not going to be easy,” he said. “However, I have a friend who works in records.”

  “How good a friend is she?”

  “Who said my friend was a she?”

  “Tell me it's not a woman.”

  “Okay, it’s a woman. And she's a very good friend.”

  “That's the best kind,” I said. “Will she pull the files for you?”

  “Gonna cost me,” Vince said. “Which means it's gonna cost you. When you find Monica, we have to go out on a double date and you have to pay.”

  “Deal.”

  “Email is too easy to trace,” he said. “I'll have her print them and you can come get them. I’ll call you when they’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Vince. I really appreciate this.”

  “Anytime, man. Anytime.”

  I'd arrived at Al
ex's office at nine forty-three and had given him Monica's phone. He was catching me up.

  “Only prints in the apartment were Monica's and yours. They must have worn gloves.”

  I nodded. There wasn't anything for me to say, so I waited for him to go on.

  “All the tenants in the complex have been questioned. No one saw anything. Same with everyone at her office complex. No one saw or heard anything.”

  “It didn't happen at her office,” I said. “Wasn't anything for them to see.”

  “How about on your end?” Alex asked. “You got anything?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Waiting for three phone calls. Anything else in Monica's files we can follow up on?”

  “Nothing so far. But we're still looking.”

  We sat quietly for a while. No point in talking just to be talking.

  Then Alex asked, “Are we sure this is about Monica?”

  Before I could answer, my phone rang. It was Jessie.

  “That was fast,” I said.

  “I told him it was important.”

  “Thanks. So what were you able to come up with?”

  “Esposito has a son. A lawyer. Benito Esposito. Does some work for the cartels. Reports say he has a temper. They also say he's a vicious son of a bitch. Likes to hurt people.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “And where can I find Benito Esposito?”

  “Lives in Malibu. Got himself a little fortress out there.”

  He gave me the address.

  “You need some help on this, Jake? Be glad to go with you.”

  “Long drive from San Diego just to go talk to the guy. I appreciate your offer, but I got this one.”

  “Okay. If you need anything else, let me know.”

  After I disconnected, Alex said, “Benito Esposito?”

  “The son,” I said.

  “Certainly worth looking at then, isn't he?”

  I told him what Jessie had said about him.

  He looked at me for a moment and said, “I'm coming with you on this one.”

  I thought about saying no, but that little voice that you often ignore was telling me not to be stupid. I decided to do something different this time—I decided to listen.

  “Sure,” I said. “On the way back, you can buy us lunch.”

  Chapter 6