Maybe she should find the boy herself. What if Bethany had told him secrets about the cult? Rox decided not to mention it to Kyle. “Any new leads on the killer from the recent crime scene?”
“Yes, but I can’t tell you.”
She felt better about holding back her own stuff. “I understand.”
“How’s your case coming along?”
“Slowly.” She wanted to share more, but it seemed too risky for both of them.
“You seemed overly friendly a moment ago, and now you’re holding back. What’s going on?” When she didn’t respond right away, Kyle asked, “How did your treatment go today?”
“I rescheduled for next week.”
“Still feeling good about the results?”
“Mostly. Although I’m becoming aware that a lot of people aren’t very happy.”
He let out a small laugh. “You’re lucky you waited until after your stint as a beat cop to get those treatments. The lowlifes would have been even harder to take.”
She’d never thought of the people she encountered on the street as lowlifes. Unfortunates was her term for most of them.
Later, they stood near Rox’s car, and she tried to decide if she should ask him to come over. They both had pending cases, and she didn’t want him to feel pressured. She decided to wait until some of the workload was off. Still, she wanted to connect with him. Rox eased in and put her arms around his waist. “I’ve missed you.”
Kyle gave her a quick squeeze and stepped away. “We’re still in public.”
“It’s just a hug.”
Under the ugly parking lot light, his brow furrowed. “Hugging didn’t used to be important to you.”
“It’s not. I just needed some contact.” She offered a silly grin to lighten the moment.
He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m not sure I like the effect of the treatments.”
She wasn’t sure she did either, but she had expected his support. “Give it time.” She started to say more, but her work phone rang in her purse, startling her. She slipped it out and looked at the ID. No name associated, but the number looked familiar.
“Anything related to Sister Love?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t think so, but I’d better take it.”
“Let’s keep each other updated.”
“Yes.”
Kyle squeezed her shoulder and walked away. Rox felt disappointed, but the feeling faded as she answered the call. “Karina Jones. How can I help you?”
“This is Greg Loffland, returning your call. What is this about?” He had a thin, annoying voice.
“An incident between you and Deacon Blackstone. I’d like to meet. Are you still on Syracuse Street in northwest Portland?”
Her knowledge of his location made him hesitate for a long moment. “Why are you interested in something that happened years ago and was resolved by a military court?”
That sounded like a lot more than a fistfight. Interesting. She had to be careful. “We’re investigating Blackstone and looking for leverage.”
“How can I help?” His relief was palpable.
She tried to remember what she knew about his area. “Meet me at the Rose & Fiddle in an hour.” It was a long drive, but hopefully worth it.
“How will I know who to look for?”
“Don’t worry. I know what you look like.” She hung up. Might as well keep him on edge.
Suddenly feeling anxious, she hurried to her car and drove home. In the house, she went straight to her bedroom and got the blonde wig she’d bought for her first extraction. Pulling it on eased some of her anxiety. She was no longer Rox MacFarlane, quirky analyst—she was Karina Jones, private investigator. But the meeting with Loffland still made her stomach clench. Saying things that were knowingly false was even harder than wearing something besides blue. Her atypical, compulsive brain wanted to override her effort. Should she put on the pink blouse Kyle had bought her? No, it was too dressy for the occasion. She added eyeliner and lipstick to her face, then grabbed a pair of nonprescription designer glasses to put on at the last minute. She hated wearing them even more than she hated jewelry. What else? She glanced in the mirror again. Too bad she couldn’t disguise her height, but all she could do was make herself taller with heels, and that wouldn’t help. Time to go.
Without much traffic, the drive took less time than she thought, and Rox arrived at the tavern fifteen minutes early. She climbed out and looked around. The lot was full of trucks and older cars, and the brick building had never been power washed. A dive bar for sure. Maybe not a good choice. She’d picked the tavern because she’d heard of it when she was on patrol, but she had been inside only once, ten years earlier. Now she had second thoughts about meeting Loffland alone. What if he had called Blackstone, and the two of them planned to rough her up? The Glock was hidden in a secret compartment in her car, because she hated wearing it, even though she had a concealed-carry permit.
Rox climbed back in her car and called Marty. He would be unhappy that she’d done this without him, but as much as she loved working with him, his constant chatter could be annoying on a drive.
He answered immediately. “Hello.” The TV blared in the background.
“Will you mute that?” The treatments obviously hadn’t cured her noise sensitivity.
“Sure.” The racket went silent. “What’s going on?”
“I’m at the Rose & Fiddle, waiting to meet with Greg Loffland, a military friend of Blackstone’s.”
“What the hell? Why didn’t you take me?”
Little white lies to her stepdad were easier. “I don’t expect anything to come of it, and I didn’t want to waste your time too.” She launched into the meat of the situation before he could complain. “I just wanted you to know where I was and what I’m doing. If you don’t hear from me in thirty minutes, call, okay?”
“Dammit, Rox. Now you’ve got me worried.”
“Don’t be. This is just a precaution. You know I can take care of myself.” She had extensive self-defense training, but hadn’t brushed up in years.
“Be careful.”
“Talk to you soon.” She hung up, climbed out again, and squared her shoulders. Looking confident was half the game.
Rox strode into the tavern, was immediately overwhelmed by the noise of the Friday-night crowd, and stepped back outside. She moved away from the door and leaned against the brick wall, hoping she didn’t ruin her favorite spring jacket. She would wait, intercept Loffland when he arrived, and ask him to walk next door to the Mexican restaurant. That would throw off any plan he might have cooked up with Blackstone too.
Loffland showed up a few minutes later, his shaved dome gleaming in the blue neon light of the tavern’s sign. She recognized his square face from the photo Sergio had sent with his file. But a vehicle hadn’t pulled into the lot in the last few minutes, so he’d parked elsewhere and walked over. He was being cautious too. Rox stepped forward and called out his name.
He spun and came toward her. “Karina?”
“Yes. Walk with me.” Rox turned toward the adjacent parking lot, but kept her eyes on Loffland.
He fell into step with her. “What alphabet federal branch are you with?”
“I can’t tell you.” They crossed into the next lot, and she noticed Loffland had a slight limp. Probably a war injury. “Thanks for meeting me.” If he seemed cooperative, she would level with him about her real mission and ask for his help. Otherwise, this would be a short conversation.
Inside the restaurant, she slid into the booth near the door. Brightly painted in peach and aqua, the place was nearly empty. A short, stout waitress stopped by, and Rox ordered coffee she didn’t plan to drink. Loffland asked for a tap beer.
When the server walked away, Rox asked, “How do you feel about Blackstone personally?”
Loffland’s shoulders tightened. “We were good friends for a while when we served together. We’ve also had our differences. At the moment, he doesn’t mean much to me.
”
A good sign. “Did you have a problem with him after you both left the army?”
“No, but I found out about something that happened while we were enlisted.” Loffland shifted uncomfortably. “It’s personal and nothing you can use.”
She really wanted to know but wouldn’t push him yet. “Do you know what Blackstone is involved in right now?”
“He runs a soup kitchen for veterans.” Loffland rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t make him a good guy.”
She sensed real animosity. “What else do you know about his charity?”
“Nothing. Why?” He leaned forward. “Is that what this is about? Is the charity a front for some scam?”
Time to risk the truth. “We think so. He recruits depressed and suicidal young girls. They work in the kitchen, as well as hit up motorists for donations.”
“What the fuck?”
His outrage encouraged her. “He isolates them from their families too, then uses emotional blackmail to get the parents to donate to his cause.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“There’s a young woman I’m trying to extract from the group. Her parents haven’t seen her in months. I could use your help.” She had no intention of revealing Emma’s name.
His eyes clouded a little. “You’re not a federal investigator, are you?”
“I was. I’m private now.” Rox had to keep him emotionally engaged. “Do you have any kids? A daughter?”
Loffland’s mouth tightened. “No, but I plan to.”
“I worry that Blackstone might be pressuring the girls for sex too.”
A flash of anger in his eyes. “What do you need from me?”
“Just get Blackstone out of his complex for a few hours and let me know when the opening is.”
“What—?” Loffland stopped, then asked, “When do you need this to happen?”
“As soon as possible.”
“I’ll see what I can set up.” He shifted toward the outside of the booth. “Are we done here?”
“Do you need contact information for him?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Didn’t he already have it? “Try this.” She wrote down the number Blackstone had used to contact Jenny Carson. “But it could be temporary. You may have to email through his website.” Rox added that information to the napkin and passed it to him.
Loffland left without touching his beer. Rox pulled a ten out of her wallet, left it on the table, and followed him. In her car, she called Marty. “Hey, it went well. It looks like he’s going to help us. Now, we just need a viable plan for getting Emma out.”
CHAPTER 16
Saturday, April 22, 8:27 a.m.
In the middle of a lengthy breakfast discussion with Marty, Rox realized she was going to have to make another trip to the work camp. “We need more intel. Such as, how many people are in the building during the day and where Emma will be when we arrive.”
“We also need to know about their guns.” Marty grimaced. “I’ll be carrying, but I really don’t want to shoot anyone.”
Weapons were her biggest concern too. Ex-military people were likely to be armed, and rural Oregonians often were too. The combination put the statistical likelihood near 90 percent. “We won’t let it go down like that. Still, I’d feel better if we could get Margo, the girlfriend, out of there. She could be trouble.”
“With Blackstone gone, they might fall for a phony evacuation demand.”
“We may not have time for that. The army buddy could call at the last minute, and we might have to move on the fly.” Rox picked up their empty plates and tried to fit them into a full dishwasher. She really needed to get a few household chores done. She turned back to her stepdad. “I also want to find the neighbor boy that Bethany snuck out to see. He might know important details about the cult’s day-to-day stuff.”
“Didn’t the task force already look for him?”
“I don’t think so. Plus the kid is more likely to be home on a Saturday morning.” What if they didn’t locate him? How else could they find out what it was like inside the work camp? Besides knocking on the door. She snapped her fingers. “I could pretend to be a census taker and ask questions of whoever comes to the front.”
Marty looked skeptical. “Maybe. But it’s a risk to expose yourself to Blackstone.” Her stepdad stood and downed the last of his coffee. “Let me do it. I can wear a nice jacket and look like a harmless old data collector.”
She tried to visualize the scene and almost laughed. Then she remembered their last trip out there. “The dog could be a problem.”
“Crap. I’d forgotten about it.”
“It looked wild, so it may not be connected to Blackstone. Or it belongs to the house we parked by.” Rox stood, eager to get going. “We’ll take reading glasses and clipboards and canvass the area. Maybe the neighbors will provide information.” She smiled. “I’ll even put on a skirt.”
“You own a skirt?” Marty laughed.
“Bite me.” Rox gestured for him to get moving. “You still have clipboards, right? You used to give them to us when we went on long drives. Jo would draw, and I would create and solve math problems.”
“You did some writing too.” He walked toward the front door.
“I remember.” Rox headed for her bedroom. She would take pants as well, in case she needed to change.
The morning fog cleared as they drove south, and by the time they turned on Barton Road, the sky was a glorious blue. Still her favorite color. She hoped the weather would hold for the actual mission. Buckets of rain could be a problem. Or maybe not. An idea percolated in her brain.
She turned to Marty, who was driving. “For the extraction, I could pretend to have car trouble or be lost and need to borrow a cell phone.”
“That doesn’t get you inside.”
“Needing to use the restroom might. Or I could fake an injury. Women are sympathetic to such things.”
“Blackstone’s girlfriend might not be. You have to be pretty cold to exploit vulnerable young women.” Marty slowed as the first rural home came into view.
“Let’s not stop here. We need to start with the house closest to the work camp.”
“That makes sense.” He pressed the accelerator, and the big sedan lurched forward. They’d taken his car because it looked more government than her Cube or the truck.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the driveway on the corner of the turnoff road. Old and small but well maintained, the cottage had a Disney look with climbing vines and red shutters.
“Does Snow White live here?” Marty chortled.
“I was wondering the same thing.” Rox glanced around the property. A chicken coop in the side yard, but no dog. “Ready? I’ll take the lead.”
“I’ve got more experience.” Marty gave her a look as they climbed out.
“Females are less intimidating.”
As they walked up the stone path, an older woman opened the front door. “I’m not buying anything!” She started to step back inside.
“Wait! We’re not selling.” Rox quickened her pace. “We’re collecting census information.” It was a crime to impersonate a federal employee, but she hadn’t claimed to be with the government, so it shouldn’t matter.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m the only one here.” The old woman’s voice broke on the last word.
Was everyone unhappy? Rox ignored the emotions and plunged right in. “Can you tell us anything about the occupants of the place down the road?” She pointed in the direction of the concrete buildings. “We’re having trouble getting information from them.”
“Not really.” Her brow creased. “They moved in about two years ago, and it seems to be a bunch of teenage girls.”
“Do you know how many?” Rox glanced at her clipboard for effect.
“Not for sure. But I see a group leave in the van in the morning and a different bunch go out at night. At least, I think they’re different girls. A man lives there too, but I�
�ve only seen him a few times.” She shook her head and made a tsking sound. “It’s not right, him living there with all those girls.”
None of this was new information. “Is that it? Just the man and what, ten or fifteen girls?”
“An older woman too. Well, not old, but middle-aged. She leaves nearly every night too, wearing the same hospital scrubs as the girls.”
So Margo worked the night shift as a caregiver still. Good to know. “What time does she leave?”
“Around eight, I think.” The old woman squinted. “Why does the census need to know that?”
Good question.
Marty chimed in. “We collect employment data too. Do you have a job?”
“Good grief, no. I’m nearly eighty.”
Rox decided they should wrap it up before the woman got suspicious. “Are there any other teenagers in the area? Young boys or just the girls?”
She scowled again. “There’s a family down the road, near the dairy. I see boys in the yard sometimes when I go into town to shop. They’re usually jumping on that foolish trampoline.”
“What age?”
“Teenagers, like you said.”
Yes! They may have found Bethany’s boyfriend. Rox jotted something on the blank paper on her clipboard. “Thanks for your time.”
“Seems like a waste of government money to me.” The old woman shut the door.
On the way down the path, Marty muttered out of the side of his mouth, “You forgot to ask her name.”
Rox laughed. “She didn’t seem to notice.”
They climbed into the sedan, and Marty turned to her. “Where now?”
“A quick trip by the work camp, then the house by the dairy. I think we might find the guy Bethany was sneaking out to see.”
“You want to actually pass in front of the property on a dead-end lane?” Marty asked. “Remember, this car looks like something a federal agent would drive.” He pulled out and turned down the narrow asphalt road.
“Good point. Let’s just find a place nearby where we can do recon and surveillance.”
Guilt Game Page 12