by James Swain
“Some of the girls broke curfew the other night, and Sara was with them,” Jessie explained. “I don’t think they want coach to hear what they have to say.”
“Have they told the police about this?”
“No. I overheard them talking in the locker room earlier. I cornered them, and told them they should tell you, and that you wouldn’t rat them out. You won’t, will you?”
Keeping secrets from the police during a criminal investigation wasn’t just wrong, it was against the law. If I spoke to Jessie’s teammates and didn’t tell the police, I’d be committing a crime myself. I vehemently shook my head.
“But Daddy—”
“If it’s important, then I’ll have to tell the police.”
“Can’t you leave their names out of it?”
I wasn’t going to make promises I couldn’t keep. “Tell your friends to meet me in the lobby near the concession stands after practice. If they tell me something that will help the police find Sara, then they’ll have to come forward and give a statement to the police. Otherwise, I won’t use their names. Deal?”
My daughter was squirming. It reminded me of how young she still was. The same went for the rest of the girls on the team. The coach’s whistle cut through the air.
“All right,” Jessie said. “Did you call Mom?”
“Not yet.”
“Daddy! Call her!”
I parked myself by the hot-dog stand in the lobby and contemplated calling my wife. Rose worked as a nurse in Tampa, and I knew her break times by heart. She was on one now, and I would have enjoyed hearing her voice.
I decided against it. I was trying to convince Rose to move back to Fort Lauderdale, but I still didn’t have anything for her to come home to. Not a house, nor a bank account, just a business finding missing kids that was making enough money for me to feed me and my dog and pay my rent. The last thing she needed to be hearing was my tales of wrestling with alligators and getting knocked unconscious in motel parking lots.
A thunderclap broke my concentration. The lobby was lined with tinted windows that stretched to the ceiling, and outside a heavy rain was falling between golden rays of sunshine. In south Florida, it could be storming and be sunny at the same time, the good and the bad joined at the hip.
Two girls from the team appeared dressed in street clothes with their hair still wet from a shower. Amber Woodward, a tall, lanky redhead, was one of the team’s forwards, while Holly Masterson, a short, compact brunette, excelled in defense. Neither looked ready to talk, and I extracted a pack of chewing gum from my pocket and offered both girls a stick. They accepted, and the three of us chewed in silence.
“Maybe I should go first,” Holly finally said.
“Please,” I said.
“We came to Fort Lauderdale two days ago for the tournament. The first day we practiced, had dinner, and went to the motel. Right when we were going to bed, Sara came to our room and asked me and Suzie if we wanted to visit the Hard Rock Casino.
“At first we both said no. Coach is strict about curfew, and she’ll bench us if we break it. But Sara wanted to see the celebrities who hung out there. She even offered to pay the cabfare. So we caved and said okay.
“We got to the Hard Rock around eleven. The place was packed, and we walked around the casino floor and people-watched for a while. It was fun, and we didn’t feel like we were doing anything wrong, you know?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Then things got ugly,” Amber chimed in.
I gave Amber my full attention. Despite her size, she was a scrapper, and I’d seen her mix it up with lots of players bigger than her, and usually come out on top.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A man was filming us with his cell phone, and wouldn’t stop,” Amber said. “He approached Sara, and started asking her weird questions, like how were her classes going, and things like that. He seemed to know stuff about her.”
“Can you describe him?”
“He was in his late-forties, kind of short and thin. He hadn’t bathed in a while, and his clothes were dirty. Finally I had enough of his questions, and told him to leave us alone. That was when I realized I’d seen him before.”
“You had? Where?”
“He was on the sidelines with a video camera during last week’s game against Georgia. He stuck out because he was dressed so crummy.”
“You’re sure it was the same man?”
“Yes. It was him.”
“Where was the game played?”
“At home in Tallahassee.”
Her answer gave me pause. Tallahassee housed the state’s capital, and as a result, had more cops and law enforcement people than most Florida cities. I found myself wondering if Sara’s abductors had purposely waited to abduct Sara in Fort Lauderdale, where there were fewer cops and a lot more places to get lost.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” I asked.
Both girls shook their heads. I took out my wallet and handed them my business cards. “That’s my cell phone. Call me anytime if you think of something else.”
“We will,” they both said.
Outside it had stopped raining and the sun had come out. The team bus pulled up to the front door and the driver honked his horn. I escorted Amber and Holly outside, and waited for Jessie to come out with the rest of the team. She appeared moments later, and we hugged.
“Did you learn anything?” she asked.
“Yes. Thanks for coming through.”
Jessie got on the bus, and I watched it leave. I went to my car and got behind the wheel. I had information that the police desperately needed to hear, only a nagging question kept running through my mind. Would they listen to what I had to say?
The answer, I quickly discovered, was no.
I called Boone, Weaver, and Burrell. After I told them what I’d learned, each detective told me an arrest in Sara’s case was imminent and hung up. They had almost sounded like they were reading from a script.
My next call was to Chief Black Cloud, leader of the Seminole Indian nation. The Seminoles owned the Hard Rock Casino and were one of the richest tribes in the country. Chief Black Cloud had single-handedly built the casino and made his people rich. Recently he’d been forced to step down as president, but his smiling photograph remained on the tribe’s website, and I knew that he still ran things.
I had visited the Hard Rock plenty of times as a cop. Its glittering casino was a magnet for runaways, and I’d pulled many off the casino floor and returned them to their parents. I had done this without disrupting the casino’s business, or alerting the press. I’d respected the tribe, and as a result, I had a good relationship with Black Cloud.
A secretary patched me through, and Black Cloud picked up on the first ring.
“Good afternoon, Jack,” Black Cloud said.
“Good afternoon, Chief,” I replied.
“Che-Han-Tah-Mo, Ah-hee-tho-sta.”
“Shtongo, edama-he-do.”
The Seminoles had two traditional languages. The chief had greeted me in Creek, and I had responded in Miccosukee, a few lines of which I’d learned growing up.
“Not bad for a half breed,” Black Cloud said.
I would have taken offense, only I knew Black Cloud was a half breed himself.
“So what can I do for you today?” the chief asked.
“I’m calling to ask a favor.”
“Are you looking for a job? I heard you were no longer a policeman. I could set you up right now to run our security team. You would fit in well here. Say yes, and I’ll make the call.”
Black Cloud had offered me several jobs over the years, all of which I’d turned down. It had nothing to do with the money, which was excellent, or the people, whom I liked. His casino had no windows, and being stuck inside a building without sunshine for eight hours a day was for me the equivalent of going straight to hell.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m on my own now,” I said.
�
��Still finding missing kids?”
“Yes.”
“You were good at that. What can I do for you?”
“Two nights ago, a man was spotted in your casino stalking three women from the Florida State women’s basketball team. One of those women was later abducted from her motel room. With your permission, I’d like to visit the casino’s surveillance control room, and see if I can spot this man on your surveillance tapes. If I can identify him, it might lead me to the missing girl.”
“I don’t know, Jack,” the chief said. “The surveillance control room is off-limits to everyone but a handful of people. Even I have a hard time getting in there.”
“I need for an exception to be made. A girl’s life is at stake.”
“How soon would you like to come in?”
“Right now.”
“Will you be bringing any policemen with you?”
“No, I’ll be by myself.”
“Do the police know about this man who was in our casino?”
“The police have another suspect in custody who they’re going to charge with the crime. I told the police about the man in your casino, but they refused to listen.”
“This sounds personal, Jack. Is it?”
Through my mind flashed Sara Long’s abduction and the beating I’d taken, the police’s unwillingness to listen to my story, and finally Karl Long’s blistering accusations that I was lousy at my work.
“Yes, it’s personal,” I said.
“I will see what I can do. Give me a number where you can be reached.”
I gave the chief my cell phone number and thanked him for his help.
CHAPTER 13
decided to grab lunch while waiting for Black Cloud to call me back. A number of fast-food restaurants were located around the arena, and I opted for a McDonald’s Value Meal, a twelve-hundred-calorie artery-clogging feast for a mere six bucks. Normally, I tried to stay away from fast food, except when I was on a case. Then it was practically all I ate.
As I was pulling out of the drive-through with my grub, my cell phone played its familiar song. The caller ID said SUNSET. It was Sonny.
“How’s it going?” I answered.
“Not so good,” Sonny said. “You need to get over here on the double.”
“Can it wait? I’m working.”
“It’s your dog.”
Something hard dropped in the pit of my stomach.
“Is Buster okay?”
“Oh, he’s just dandy.”
Buster wasn’t hurt, and I felt myself relax.
“What did he do?”
“The bar got busy, so I stuck him upstairs in your room. The next thing I know, it sounds like World War Three is going on up there. He was going bonkers.”
“Did you leave him something to chew on?” I asked.
“No, was I supposed to?”
Buster was a herding dog, not a house dog, and would gnaw clean through a table leg if locked up for too long. I said, “How serious are the damages?”
“Catastrophic.”
The bad feeling returned to my stomach.
“Throw him a bone. I’ll be right there,” I said.
I took the Sawgrass Expressway south, then got onto 595, and raced east toward the ocean. Of all the dogs I could have rescued from the pound, Buster hadn’t been the nicest, nor the prettiest dog sitting on death row. But he’d tugged at my heartstrings, so I’d adopted him. The fact that he occasionally gnawed on a bad person didn’t bother me, but when he started destroying furniture, I got concerned. My room at the Sunset had come furnished, and I wasn’t looking forward to replacing the things he’d ruined.
I pulled into the Sunset’s parking lot with a rubbery squeal and hopped out of my car. I ran up the staircase beside the bar to my room.
I opened the door expecting the worst. Buster sat in the center of the floor, surrounded by fluffy white mattress stuffing. He had pulled the mattress off the bed, eaten a hole through its center, and distributed the stuffing across the room. He’d also attacked the dresser and night table, and chewed on the legs so viciously that they now resembled toothpicks. Seeing me, he howled happily, and ran into my arms.
“You stupid dog,” I said.
“Holy shit,” a voice said.
I glanced over my shoulder. Sonny stood in the doorway, wearing his trademark Guns & Roses T-shirt with holes in the armpits. His face was white.
“I thought I asked you to give him a bone,” I said.
“I gave him a knuckle bone. He must have eaten it.”
I quickly assessed the damage. Had I still been a cop, I would have strung yellow crime-scene tape across the door, the place was such a disaster. Along with ruining my bed, plus the dresser and night table, Buster had chewed a hole in the wall through which the ocean air was now blowing. All of the furniture would have to be replaced, the wall fixed, and the room repainted.
“How much do you think this is going to cost?” I asked.
“A couple of grand, easy,” Sonny replied.
“I’ve got nine hundred bucks to my name. Can you lend me the rest? I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it.”
Sonny shook his head from side to side. “I’d give you the money if I thought it would do any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s over, Jack.”
“What’s over?”
“Ralph’s in town for his monthly visit. He’s coming by later to check up on things. He’s going to see this and go ape shit.”
Ralph was the Sunset’s long-distance owner, a nasty New York banker who enjoyed yanking Sonny’s chain. Ralph had not wanted to rent me the room because of Buster, but had decided that having an ex-cop living above the bar was a good insurance policy.
“Can’t you hide the damage from him?” I asked.
“How am I going to do that?”
“I don’t know, say you’re having the room fumigated.”
“Ralph always checks the building, Jack. He’s going to see this, and then he’ll explode. You know how he is.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“Like what? Join the Foreign Legion?”
My cell phone chimed. It was Black Cloud calling me back. I answered.
“I’ve gotten clearance for you to visit the Hard Rock’s surveillance control room,” Black Cloud said. “The surveillance director said you can come in, and he’ll help you find the guy who was stalking the college students. How soon can you get over here?”
I hesitated. I needed to clean up Buster’s mess, and salvage my situation with the Sunset. But at the same time, if I didn’t get over to the Hard Rock, I’d lose my chance to learn the identity of one of Sara Long’s abductors.
“I’m on my way,” I said.
“Call me when you’re near, and I’ll come downstairs to greet you.”
“I will. Thanks, Chief.”
I said good-bye and folded my phone. Sonny had grabbed the mattress and was struggling to pull it back onto the bed. I went to the doorway and saw him glare at me.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” Sonny said.
“I have to. I’m on a case.”
“You’re not going to help me clean this place up?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Sonny pulled the mattress onto the bed and began shoving the stuffing back into it.
“Take your stuff,” he said.
I froze in the doorway. “Are you evicting me?”
“No, but Ralph will, and then you’ll have to come back and get your things. Take them now, Jack. It will be easier.”
“You don’t know what Ralph will do. He might just laugh it off.”
“Fat chance. Take your stuff, or Ralph will throw it in the Dumpster.”
The finality in his voice was unmistakable, and I realized that this was the end. I had lived above the Sunset for over a year. Sonny and the good-natured drunks who supported the bar had always been there for me. The Sunset was my home, and
they were my friends, and it had just gone up in flames. I grabbed my clothes out of the closet along with a cardboard box that contained my old cop stuff and headed for the stairwell.
“Wait,” Sonny said.
From the night table he picked up the stack of missing person files that had been my bedtime reading. Then he went into the bathroom and grabbed my shaving kit.
“Don’t forget these,” he said.
Sonny crossed the room and handed the items to me. His eyes mirrored the pain that I was feeling. I wasn’t just losing a friend; I was losing one of my best friends. Sonny patted Buster, then gave me a bear hug.
“Good luck, man,” he said.
CHAPTER 14
threw my worldly possessions into my car and drove to the Hard Rock. Traffic on 595 was the usual madness, and I darted between lanes while trying to focus on the task at hand. My wife believed that everything happened for a reason, and I wondered what was the reason behind this sudden turn of events in my life.
Exiting on 441, I headed south into Hollywood, the massive casino looming in the distance. Back when I was a kid, the Seminoles had made money giving airboat rides to tourists and putting on rinky-dink rodeos with the headlights of their pickups used to light up the ring. Now they were on top of the world and worth billions.
Entering the casino grounds, I called Black Cloud on my cell. He was there to greet me when my car was taken by the valet. He was a big man, with jet-black hair that cascaded onto his shoulders and a chiseled face that looked like something you’d see on a statue in a park. He’d done two tours of duty in Vietnam and come home with shrapnel in one of his legs. He walked with a limp but refused to carry a cane.
“It’s been too long,” Black Cloud said, pumping my hand.
“You look good,” I said.
“You’re lying. I look old and tired. What’s with the dog?”
“He’s my partner. Can I bring him inside?”
“Sure. We don’t have a problem with dogs.”
I followed him into the bustling casino. Everywhere I looked, little old ladies with arms like Popeye were yanking on slot machines, while men chomping on cigars were risking hundreds of dollars on the turn of a card. I couldn’t look at it without remembering the cow pasture that had been here not that long ago.