Love and Lies: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  I looked to Alex for help. He looked as if he was observing a deadly bacteria morphing into a new, more deadly form. A slight shrug of his shoulders and shake of his head told me I was on my own.

  “Yes,” Monica replied. “She does look great. I suspect she always looks great.”

  Monica was right about that. Susan Watson was a beautiful woman. She was about five seven, one twenty, trim and athletic. She had silky shoulder length black hair and dark, friendly, intelligent eyes that lit up when she smiled.

  I didn't know what else to say, so I said, “Um, I didn't know you two knew each other. How is it that you know each other?”

  “Susan came to see you at the hospital just after your surgery,” Monica said.

  “Ah,” I said. That was the best I could come up with. Ah. “I was kind of out of it for several days, I guess. So I don’t really remember.”

  “I wasn't able to come back,” she said. “I was presenting a paper at a conference on psychological disorders in Dallas.”

  “Ah,” I said again, nodding. Brilliant. Then I added, “Oh, yeah, because you're working on your Ph.D. in forensic psychology.”

  She smiled. “But I knew you were in very good hands,” she said. “I'm sure Monica's been taking very good care of you.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Absolutely. Great care. I'm doing really quite good and Monica's really ... Well, um, Wilson, I think, is anxious to get started. Maybe we should just get started.”

  I looked at Alex again. “Sure,” he said. “I'm ready. Let's go.”

  I turned and started running. Alex jogged up beside me. Monica and Susan were a few paces behind us.

  “What were you thinking?” I whispered harshly.

  “She said she wanted to come. What was I supposed to do, tell her no?”

  “A heads up would have been nice.”

  “Sorry, man. Just didn't occur to me.”

  “Didn't occur to you. Do you realize ...” Just then Monica came up along side of me. She didn’t look at me. Her eyes focused on the running path. Susan came up alongside of Alex. I had no idea where her eyes were focused.

  Crap. I hadn't done anything. So how come I felt like I had to explain myself ... to each of them? I felt like a little boy who’d just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But I hadn’t had a cookie in almost four years! Crap.

  Chapter 58

  The run itself was nice. The morning was overcast and cool, which made the four miles easier to endure. Afterward we stopped at a Jamba Juice and had smoothies and talked about innocuous things. Monica and Susan seemed to get along. I was about as comfortable as a guy with ants down his shorts.

  On the way back to my apartment, Monica said, “So, Susan Watson.”

  I took a deep breath. “Alex's little sister,” I said, and smiled.

  “Uh-huh.” She looked at me, waiting for an explanation. The expression on her face was almost a smirk.

  “You're intentionally trying to make me uncomfortable,” I said. “Why are you doing that?”

  I stopped at a light.

  “Hey, I'm not trying to do anything. I'm just curious. Like you say, your best friend's little sister. What's the deal?”

  “The deal is, we were out together a couple of times.”

  “Out together. What does that mean?”

  “Once was Alex's birthday. A bunch of us went out together to celebrate. Susan was one of the group. We talked a bit. Got to be friends.”

  “Uh-huh. And the other time.”

  I hadn't noticed the light had turned green. The car behind me honked.

  “A double-date,” I said, accelerating across the intersection. “Her roommate from college came for a visit and they wanted to go out. So Alex and I got drafted. We took Susan and her friend to dinner and a movie. Technically, I was Susan's date.”

  “Technically?”

  “Technically.”

  “And?”

  “And ... And what?” I stuttered all over myself. “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you're attracted to her.”

  “Okay, fine. She's an attractive woman. I find her attractive.”

  “There. See? That wasn't that hard, was it?”

  “Jeez, Monica. What ... Look, I do find her attractive. She's smart and kind. And ...”

  “And she wants you.”

  I looked at Monica and almost rear-ended the truck in front of me. I pulled to the curb and stopped.

  “And she ...” I took another deep breath. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “And?”

  I shrugged. “I think about her sometimes.”

  Monica's eyes held mine with a palpable intensity.

  “But not,” I said, “the way I've been thinking about you, lately.”

  When the dam burst it all came rushing out. I put my hand on the back of her neck, pulled her toward me and kissed her. It was an intense, powerful kiss with a lot of emotion and force. And a lot of tongue. It lasted a long time.

  When we finally pulled ourselves apart, Monica, somewhat breathlessly, said, “Well, okay then. Enough about Susan. Let's go back to your place.”

  Monica was all sweaty from our run, so she wanted to shower first. I didn't care that she was sweaty and I wasn't in the mood to wait, so I joined her in the shower. By the time we got to the bedroom, it was our second go round.

  Afterward, we lay naked on the bed, her head resting on my left shoulder. The large bandage over my chest wound had come off weeks ago and the doctor had removed the stitches, but the scar was still red. Monica traced small circles on my chest with her finger. Wilson was in the front room, probably curled up on the sofa.

  “So ... what do you think?” Monica asked.

  “About what?”

  “About what we just did. About us.”

  “I think what we just did was amazing and I want to do it again and again and again.”

  That made her laugh and she rubbed my chest tenderly.

  “About us,” I said, “I think it means that we've arrived at a very important place in our relationship.”

  “So, we have a relationship?”

  “What else would it be? I mean we already had a relationship. We were good friends. Now we've taken our relationship to a new level.”

  “What level is it?” she asked.

  “You mean, like, does it have a name? I don't know. Lovers?”

  She raised up on her elbow and looked at me. She laid her very large left breast on my chest so she could snuggle in closer. I liked it.

  “Is that what we are?” she asked, “Lovers?” He green eyes sparkled lively.

  “I think so,” I said. “What about you?”

  She smiled and kissed me gently. “Yes,” she said. “Lovers. I like that.”

  We fell asleep and it was almost noon before we woke up.

  “You hungry?” I asked.

  “Famished.”

  “What sounds good?”

  She thought for a moment. “In-N-Out Burger.”

  “Ooo. A woman after my own heart.”

  There was an In-N-Out Burger on Cahuenga, not far from my apartment. We sat in the Wrangler and ate and listened to the Moody Blues. Wilson was in the back. I had gotten a burger for him as well. Monica shared her french fries with him. He appreciated her generosity.

  After we finished eating, Monica asked, “So what does this mean?”

  “What?”

  “Us. What do we do next?”

  “You mean other than having more sex?”

  “Yes. Other than that.”

  “I don't know that it means anything right now. We just took one really big step. Maybe we should go slow and get comfortable with where we are before we start thinking about a next step.”

  Monica nodded. “You're right. We need to be sensible and go slow.”

  Other than just a couple of brief visits to say hello to Mildred, I hadn't been back to my office, and I was beginning to miss it. So after we ate, we went there. Wilson missed i
t, too. He spent several minutes sniffing everything, discovering who'd been there and what sort of things had happened since he'd been there last. I sat down behind my desk and opened some mail. I'd been checking email on my laptop at home. Mildred had come by a couple of times with checks for me to sign. But a lot of other mail, most of it junk mail, had piled up. I went through it just to be doing it.

  When I finished with the junk mail, we drove to Monica's apartment and picked up a few things for her to leave at my apartment. Other than that, we spent the rest of the weekend having sex between workout sessions and meals. Best weekend ever. When it came time for Monica to leave Sunday night, she didn't really want to leave. I didn't really want her to go, either. But we had agreed that it was best to go slow. We kissed and I watched her walk out to her car. She’d be back at seven in the morning for our morning run. Then we'd each go to our own offices. I was ready to go back to work, and we did, after all, have businesses to run. She waved as she pulled away from the curb. It had been an amazing five weeks.

  Chapter 59

  Monday morning I was ready to go at seven. Monica was almost never late. At seven-fifteen, I called her cell. She didn't answer. When it rolled to voice mail, I left a message. She'd probably slept late and was in the shower. I sat down to read and wait.

  At eight-fifteen, I called again. Still no answer. I left another message.

  I waited another hour before calling again. No answer. Left another message. Maybe there had been an accident. I spent some time calling hospitals near her home or those on their way to my place. Nothing. Thank God. Maybe she had car trouble. But in that case, she would have called. If she could have called, she would have. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she'd passed out or something. Or fallen and hit her head. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she realized what she was getting into and decided that I wasn't what she wanted. One weekend with me was all she could take. No. That didn't feel right. Even if she had changed her mind, Monica would not just walk away. She'd have been upfront with me. No, this wasn't about us. Something else had happened. But what? It didn't have to be anything terrible. She didn't have to be in danger or trouble or anything. Maybe she was helping someone with something. Still, in two hours she could have found a few seconds to make a call.

  I decided to go by her office. I put on my regular work clothes: Levis, light blue Oxford button down shirt, a pair of Born ankle-high hiking boots, and my tan corduroy sport coat. As I started for the door, I stopped and went back. I took off my jacket and shrugged into my shoulder holster. I got my Taurus .357 from the drawer next to my bed, checked the loads, and slid it into the holster under my left arm. I slipped back into my jacket, and Wilson and I went out the door.

  It was a thirty-minute drive to Monica's office. I tried calling her again en route. No answer. When I got to the complex where Monica's office was, I looked around for her car. It was nowhere in sight. I went up to her office. The door was locked. I knocked. Nothing. I knocked harder and waited. Nothing. I went to the CPA firm across the hall and asked the receptionist if anyone there had seen Ms. Nolan. No one had seen or heard anything.

  I called her again as I went back out to my Jeep. No answer. Her apartment was about ten minutes away. I made it there in half that time. I kept telling myself that there was nothing to worry about. Monica was a capable person. I couldn't imagine too many situations that she couldn't handle. I began to think again that maybe the weekend had been too intense after all and that she needed to get away to have time to think. Maybe she caught a late flight last night or an early one this morning and had gone to Vegas. Vegas? She had family in Texas, somewhere near Dallas. Maybe she went there. Maybe her mother or father had a heart attack and Monica caught an early flight to DFW. She hadn't called because it was early and she didn't want to wake me. That's what she'd have thought. I was still recuperating and I needed my sleep. So, she wouldn't call. Then, once the plane took off, she couldn't call. When the plane lands, she'll call and explain what happened. Maybe. It was plausible. But it didn’t feel right.

  When I got to her apartment complex, I looked for her car. It was there. I went to her door and knocked. No answer. I went to the manager's office. No one there. I went back to Monica's door. It was mid-morning. People were around. Too bad. I needed to get into Monica's apartment. I took out my lock pick tools and went to work. In a few seconds the tumblers fell into place. Before opening the door, I pulled my gun. I'm not sure why I did. I hadn't consciously thought about any scenario that involved foul play, but something told me I needed to be ready.

  I opened the door slowly and looked in. Something was wrong. A chair was tipped over; a table had been knocked out of alignment. A lamp lay on the floor.

  “Monica,” I called.

  Nothing.

  Ready to shoot if I needed to, I moved cautiously through the front room. Monica’s purse sat on the counter that separated the kitchen from the small dining area. I went into the bedroom. The bed was unmade. Her cell phone lay on the table next to her bed. There was a blouse on the floor. The closet door was open. Monica was a neat freak. She would not willingly leave her room looking like this.

  I went into the bathroom. A wet towel lay on the floor. Again, no Monica. And then I saw it, blood on the floor. Not a lot. Just a couple of drops. But enough. And the items on the countertop had been knocked over or jostled out of place. Something had happened here. Something bad. Something dangerous.

  I took out my cell and called Alex.

  “Jake,” he said, when he answered. “What's up?”

  “Monica's been taken.”

  THE END

  The Series Continues …

  Abducted

  A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

  Glenn Rogers

  Chapter 1

  Monday Morning

  "What do you mean, Monica's been taken?" Alex asked.

  "She's been abducted," I said. "Taken from her apartment."

  "Are you there now?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'm on my way."

  "I'll call McGarry, too," I said.

  "Fifteen minutes," Alex said, and clicked off.

  Alex is one of my two best friends, Monica being the other one. Alex and I went through Quantico together and were assigned to the Organized Crime Unit of the Los Angeles Office of the FBI. I resigned from the agency after three years. Alex stayed on. He's now a Special Agent in Charge, a SAC, in the L.A. office.

  "McGarry," Frank said, when he answered his cell.

  "Frank, Monica's been kidnapped. Taken from her apartment. I'm here now. Alex is on his way."

  "Address,” he said.

  I gave it to him.

  “Twenty minutes," he said, and clicked off.

  Frank is a captain on the LAPD, working homicide. We've been friends since we worked together on a joint FBI-LAPD task force nearly five years ago. I worked with his son-in-law as well. I was wounded getting him out of the line of fire. Frank was grateful, so he does what he can to help me now that I’m a private investigator and no longer have the advantage of a badge. He'll get a detective in missing persons to come with him and work with Alex and me on the case. Between the FBI, the LAPD, and me, we'll find Monica Nolan.

  While I waited for the police to arrive, I called Mildred, my office manager, and had her close the office and come get Wilson, my four-year-old Border Collie. The local police arrived and set up a crime scene. Mildred arrived a little while later. I explained what had happened, handed Wilson off to her, and told her I didn’t know when I’d be back at the office.

  Mildred looked me in the eye and said, “You’ll find her and she’ll be all right.”

  Once everyone arrived, the scene was chaotic. Frank had sent additional LAPD personnel. Alex had called in an FBI forensics team. They were going over the apartment with a fine-toothed comb. Alex, Frank, Detective Kimberly Branch, and I stood together in the courtyard of the apartment complex. Neither Alex nor I had met Detective Branch before. I had already explained
to her what I had found when I arrived.

  "So what do you need from me?" Branch asked Alex. She was in her mid thirties, around the same age as Alex and I.

  "Technically,” Alex said, “the FBI will be the lead agency. But we'd very much like this to be a joint effort." Alex glanced briefly at me and then added, "And Jake, of course, should be considered as part of the investigative team. Extend to him the level of cooperation you would extend to me."

  "With all due respect," Branch said to Alex, "Mr. Badger is a civilian and he's emotionally involved with the victim. It's not appropriate for him to be part of the investigative team."

  All three of us were looking at her. I could feel my temper rising.

  Frank said, "Detective, no one asked you for your opinion. Jake Badger is a former FBI agent and one of the best detectives you will ever meet. He is part of this investigative team. Is that understood?" Frank looked more like a corporate executive than a cop. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, red and blue-stripped tie, and black wingtips. But when he spoke there was an authority and a strength that few had the guts to question.

  "Yes, Captain," Branch said. I almost felt sorry for her.

  Alex, wearing the same basic uniform as Frank, said, "I'd also like you to stay in the loop, Frank, even though this is not a homicide."

  "That's why I'm here," Frank said.

  Then to me, Alex said, "How do you want to begin?"

  I could see Branch's confusion. Alex was an FBI SAC. Why was he asking me how I wanted to handle things?

  "While your lab people are doing their thing," I said, "we need to go over Monica's case files and see if we can find someone who's looking to even a score."

  "You're convinced this is related to one of her cases?" Alex asked.

  "I'm not convinced of anything," I said. "I just think it's the most logical place to begin. Given recent events, it could just as easily be someone in Esposito's organization."

  "Want us to follow up on the Esposito angle?" Frank asked.