Data Capture

by Jesse J. Thoma

  “I can see why you wanted to see these as soon as you could. He looks just like you,” Quinn said. “He would make my day too. Is he your brother’s or sister’s son?”

  Lola’s heart ached for a moment. Her brother should be married with kids right now. “Sister,” Lola said. Holt was her family. Isabelle too, and they were as close as sisters could be. Quinn was right; George did look like her. Luckily, a few physical characteristics were about all she shared with George’s biological father. He was cooling his heels in prison for multiple counts of grand theft auto, racketeering, and attempted murder for trying to kill Tiffany while she was pregnant with George, though he’d shot Dubs instead. Hopefully, being a shitty human being wasn’t an inheritable trait.

  “He’s wonderful,” Quinn said. “You can stay as long as you like, but I have to get to class.”

  “May I walk with you?” Lola asked impulsively. She was tired, and thinking about both Georges made her melancholy. Quinn seemed to be a balm for her battered soul. She didn’t care at the moment why that was.

  Quinn’s eyes lit up at Lola’s offer. That was almost enough for Lola to back out. She didn’t want anyone to look at her like that. Or maybe I do. But she certainly wasn’t interested in anyone that might be involved in her case. Quinn worked at CLA and that’s where the email came from. She could be a suspect. Lola almost rolled her eyes thinking about the likelihood of Quinn being the mastermind behind a kidnapping.

  “You sure you aren’t too tired?” Quinn asked.

  Lola must have looked as confused as she felt, being ripped from her wandering thoughts.

  “You worked all night. My class is across campus. Not that you look like that would be particularly strenuous for you.”

  Lola was pretty sure Quinn was flirting. She felt like flexing but contained herself. “Lead the way.”

  “Give me five minutes,” Quinn said. She grabbed a change of clothes hidden behind her office door and disappeared.

  Lola closed out of her email program, congratulating herself that she remembered how, and wandered back into the common area. She’d barely emerged from Quinn’s office when Jessica was on her.

  “She’s amazing, you know. Brilliant, driven, dedicated, loyal. If you’re just here to find a quick fuck, go sniff around somewhere else. She’s way out of your league.”

  “But she’s in yours?” Lola asked. She wasn’t really annoyed at Jessica’s protectiveness, but she was curious.

  “Hell no,” Jessica said. “Even if I was interested, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Doesn’t mean I like the look of you.”

  “Hey, man, I got a couple good licks in on that garbage can before it dumped this awesome smelling muck on me. Besides, coveralls and whatever the hell this is,” Lola indicated an unidentifiable slimy stain just above her knee, “makes for quite a compelling look. Don’t judge.”

  Jessica looked like she was trying not to smile.

  Lola didn’t let her think too long. She understood overly protective friends; she occasionally was one herself. “I have no intention of, how did you put it, going for a quick fuck with Quinn. If that’s all I was after, last week would have been a much better time for that, Little Chihuahua.”

  “Why didn’t you? You guys were all over each other.” Jessica’s tiny hackles had come down a few levels.

  “Wasn’t my intention and wasn’t my call. I wasn’t leading the interaction that night. I thought we made that clear to you the first time you played overprotective guard dog and nipped at my ankles.”

  “So you’re telling me you only look like you know your way around every dark alley of this city and spend your days pumping iron in a prison yard?” Jessica asked.

  At least she looked a little less sure of herself.

  “Jesus, should I thank you or growl and watch you wet your pants?” Lola asked. If Jessica only knew who she really was. Although the part about knowing her way around dark alleys wasn’t far off, but not for the reasons she thought. “I’m going to change so I can walk Quinn to class.”

  “Don’t forget to carry her books,” Jessica called after her, but there was no malice in her tone this time.

  “Truce, Little Chihuahua,” Lola said. She held up her hands in submission. “Looks can be deceiving. I come in peace.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lola hadn’t meant to sneak into Quinn’s lecture, and once she did, she certainly hadn’t meant to stay, but here she was, trying to blend in with a bunch of college kids making their way out of class so she could make an unseen exit. She hunched her shoulders to try to make herself shorter, but she was still way taller than most of them. After escaping undetected, she headed toward her motorcycle and thought about the fifty-minute lecture. Even though she hadn’t graduated high school, she’d always loved being in the classroom. She’d had dreams of college, but her life fell apart before that could happen.

  Now, her brain felt like her muscles did after time in the weight room, tired, challenged, expanded. She liked the feeling. She keyed her comms as she neared her bike. Despite having been up all night, she had work to do.

  “Finally, you call me,” Dubs said. “I’ve been dying since you got all bent out of shape at Max. You don’t call, you don’t write, you don’t send pictures of your new squeeze.”

  Lola ignored Dubs’s teasing. “What do you know about neuroscience?”

  “Neuroscience?” Dubs asked, sounding incredulous. “Does this have anything to do with our case?”

  “Sure, sort of.” Lola regretted asking.

  “I’m reasonably conversant in mechanical and software engineering and physics, you know, the things I need to make cars stop and go at my command. And of course I can talk about cars until your ears fall off. I’m starting to love hearing all about computer guts and brains, but neuroscience has nothing to do with stealing things or getting my lady worked up. So, I guess I can’t help you. Why do you ask?” Dubs’s voice was overly sweet and sugary. She was fishing for information, but doing it so obviously, it made Lola laugh.

  “I sat in on a lecture today at CLA and it was interesting. Maybe I’ll add a couple neuroscience books to my library reading list.”

  “You know, most people only read textbooks because they have to. Your library list is like a torture chamber’s greatest hits. What do you do when you want to punish yourself? You know what, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. We should keep the mystery in our relationship.”

  “What do I do for punishment?” Lola asked. “Isn’t it obvious? I call you.”

  Dubs didn’t even pretend to be offended. “This new interest in neuroscience wouldn’t have anything to do with a new lady would it? Hot for teacher?”

  “I’m not worked up over a lady,” Lola said.

  “Uh-huh,” Dubs said. “So what’s your Professor Hotty’s name? Max already told me, but I want to hear it from you. She always leaves out the good stuff. No one just happens to sit in on a college lecture to stimulate their neurosciences.”

  “I called for work purposes,” Lola said.

  “Sure, sure, we’ve got plenty of time for that,” Dubs said. “I’m working on my information extraction skills at the moment. Holt’s been giving me a few pointers. For instance, right now, I know you’re evading and I should keep pressing for the information I need.”

  “Quinn Golden,” Lola said. “But she’s not my anything. I just sat in on her class.” Lola ignored the replay of how beautiful Quinn looked this morning, rumpled from sleep, or how she’d felt in her arms while they danced, or what it felt like to kiss her. Jesus, women are nothing but trouble.

  “Quinn Golden,” Dubs said. “Isn’t Quinn the name of the woman you made Max talk to the other night when you were out dancing?”

  Lola was spared further interrogation when someone back at the office interrupted Dubs with some business Lola couldn’t make out. It didn’t take long before she was back.

  “Isabelle wants to know if your Quinn Golden is actually Dr. Quinn Golden
, the hotshot neuroscientist who is apparently doing something to change the world, or build a better tomorrow, or something clichéd like that.”

  “Probably,” Lola said. “How many Dr. Quinn Goldens can there be in the world?” She wasn’t interested in dating again anytime soon, and even if she was, she already knew Quinn was far out of her league. But it sounded like they weren’t even playing the same game, on the same planet. It was a little discouraging.

  “Damn,” Dubs said. “You better start reading a whole lot more textbooks. And journal articles, and technical manuals, and sit in on a few more college classes, girl. Max could get you a real impressive college degree if you want one.”

  “Dubs.”

  “I know, I know. You good guys are opposed to that kind of tinkering.”

  “You wear a white hat now too, you know.” Lola couldn’t think of anyone with a better heart than Dubs.

  “And sometimes it’s so stifling. Can we get to work?” Dubs asked.

  “Finally,” Lola said. “That’s why I called.”

  “What took you so long then? Yammering my ear off about lady problems. What do you need?”

  “Name and address of Kevin Garvey’s wife and any other known associates. Also, any new leads I don’t know about? How is that computer thingy coming along? Has Max had time to trace the email?”

  “Whoa. One thing at a time. You want the addresses texted to your phone? These are just for surveillance, right? Like H said?” Dubs sounded suspicious.

  “Of course. Except his wife. I want to talk to her. She might be able to give more information on where he might be. I doubt she’s a threat and I’ll be careful. Anything new to report?”

  “Nothing yet,” Dubs said. “Who knew even Max has a limit on the magic she can work? She’s been mumbling at her computer since you got that program up and running. I’ll let you know when we have more.”

  “Thanks, Dubs.” Lola was about to sign off when Dubs spoke again.

  “And, Lola, be careful. Moose is on the ground in California, but it’s a big state. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “With you chirping in my ear?” Lola said. “How could I even think it? I’ll be safe. Just get me those addresses and take care of everyone else.”

  A few minutes after disconnecting with Dubs, her phone buzzed. She read Kevin Garvey’s address, kicked her bike to life, and hoped his wife was home.

  Twenty minutes later, when Lola knocked on the door, a petite woman with neat curly brown hair and suspicious brown eyes opened the door. She was dressed in business casual attire and looked like she was probably home on her lunch break.

  “Are you Mrs. Garvey?” Lola asked.

  “I’m married to Kevin Garvey,” the woman said, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Do you have a few minutes? I have a couple of questions related to his disappearance.”

  “Look, the police were by here already. They said they’d be in touch. I call and check in every day or so. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  “I’m not with the police, ma’am,” Lola said. “I have a private interest in finding your husband.”

  Lola knew immediately she’d struck a nerve, apparently, a particularly unpleasant, nasty one. While before the woman seemed wary but accepting, now she was anything but. Her eyes flashed with fury and something else Lola struggled to place, maybe terror, or loathing. She didn’t have time to evaluate more before she was warding off a two-handed, slap-happy physical assault designed more for emotional outlet than damage infliction.

  “So that’s what it’s come to, huh? Those low-life bookies are sending women to try and get information from me? And what, are you supposed to appeal to me woman to woman? And if that doesn’t work, break my kneecaps just like the others threatened to do? I don’t know anything. For the last time, I don’t know anything.”

  Once she was all out of gas, Lola led the weeping woman back in the house and got her settled on the couch.

  “Can I get you a glass of water?” Lola asked. When she received no response, she sat on the couch too, forgoing beverages in case the assault resumed and her time to build trust was short. “My name is Lola. I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t work for anyone that means you harm. It’s important you understand that. I understand you don’t trust me. How about I tell you a little bit about why I’m looking for your husband? Then you can decide whether to throw me out?”

  The woman nodded. Of course, Lola already knew a great deal about this woman, but she wanted to give her the opportunity to share what she wanted in her own time. Right now, she was their only lead on Kevin Garvey, and any information she had was important.

  “I work for someone your husband wanted to talk to very badly before he disappeared. He went to a lot of trouble to try to contact her, and he wasn’t very polite about how he asked.”

  “Do you work for Holt Lasher?”

  Lola’s stomach flew into her throat and she had to work very hard to keep her expression neutral. She wasn’t sure she was completely successful.

  Kevin’s wife must have read her expression. “It’s just that he was obsessed with that name right before he disappeared. He kept telling me all our problems would go away as soon as he found Holt Lasher. Kept saying she wouldn’t turn her back on family and he would make her understand. I know he has daughters, but I’d never heard that name before. I thought his daughters were named Eleanor and Adele or something like that.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Lola found it funny that another person mistakenly called Isabelle “Adele.” She’d thought Holt’s mother did that just to annoy Isabelle.

  “I do work for Holt Lasher,” Lola said. There was no point in lying about that. She wanted this woman to trust her. To help her. “And I really need to find Kevin. I think that Holt, and those she cares about, are in danger until he’s found.”

  “From Kevin?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. But first he wanted to talk to Holt, and now the people who took him do. I don’t like that coincidence. I want to talk to Kevin to get any information he has and find out why he wanted to talk to Holt. You said bookies are after Kevin, and now you. Do you think it’s related to that?”

  “You said people who took him. The police think he ran off. I’ve never believed that, but they don’t listen to me. Do you have evidence that I’m right?”

  Lola weighed her options. Nothing like walking the high wire without a net. This was what she’d asked for though, the chance to prove herself. “He didn’t run off and we do have evidence of that. If you recall my saying that your husband wasn’t asking very politely to get in touch with my boss, well, the folks who are providing his current accommodation are even less so.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “We don’t have any indication that Kevin has been harmed, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lola said. She wasn’t sure if she was reading the situation correctly, but Kevin’s wife seemed more agitated and stressed than worried. “But the threats against Holt and her family were more aggressive.”

  She seemed to accept that Lola wasn’t going to provide more substance. “Have you given the information to the police?”

  “Of course,” Lola said.

  “And is your goal to find my husband?”

  “My goal is to keep Holt and her family safe,” Lola said. “And I believe that involves finding your husband. We still don’t know why he wanted to talk to her. I would very much like to find out.”

  “You said you mean me no harm, but you didn’t say anything about Kevin. Don’t be offended by this, but you don’t look like a big talker. You look like more of a silencer. What happens when you find him? Are you going to kill him?”

  Lola almost laughed, the question caught her so off guard. She’d forgotten that she wasn’t operating in New England where the name Holt Lasher was all the business card she needed. No one would assume she was a hired hit woman. But Kevin’s wife was looking at her s
o seriously and with such suspicion, it was easy to see how serious the question was.

  “No, ma’am, that’s not how we work. Couldn’t be further from the truth, actually.”

  “I looked up Ms. Lasher. I know all about her. What I don’t know with any certainty is that you work for her.”

  “It’s not great for business to put our roster on a website,” Lola said. She wondered what exactly this woman had found about Holt online that led her to believe she knew all about her. She doubted it was even a fraction of the truth of the real woman. “But I do have a business card.”

  “I could spend a little time on my computer and get a thousand business cards mailed to me in a couple days. Then I could work for Ms. Lasher too.”

  The woman was careful and smart. Lola liked that, even if it was making her job more difficult.

  “If you’re going to work for Holt, you should probably stop calling her ‘Ms. Lasher.’ That drives her nuts. How about you call and ask to speak with Holt? You’ll probably get a woman named Max, or if you are exceptionally lucky, Dubs. Either one can find Holt for you.” Lola didn’t like that idea at all, but it seemed like the best option to build trust. She felt like she should be able to do that without having to pull Holt in as a personal reference.

  “I can see my calling your boss would be embarrassing to you.”

  “I’ll get over it. Please call if it will ease your mind.”

  Mrs. Garvey looked at her thoughtfully. “How about we compromise? You said you passed along the information about Kevin being abducted to the police, correct?”

  Lola nodded.

  “I’ll call over and verify that. If you are telling the truth, I don’t see why I shouldn’t trust you. It’s not like anyone else that’s knocked on my door has been all that helpful.”

  While she waited, Lola tried not to doze on the couch. Her overnight shift was finally catching up to her. Uninvited, thoughts of Quinn sprang to mind. She’d been so commanding and sexy standing at the front of the lecture hall in full professorial glory. She was clearly brilliant and knew more about basic levels of neuroscience than Lola knew about anything. It probably should have been intimidating, but the way she delivered the information and wielded all that knowledge made Lola want to learn more. Hot for teacher indeed.