Shadow Girl

by Gerry Schmitt

  Hold it together, Afton admonished herself. I will let myself lose it later when all this is over and done with.

  “Wait a minute,” Max said. “You actually saw the car that the Asian guy drove away in?” There was a sharp intake of breath. “What’d it look like?”

  Afton thought hard. “The car was kind of dusty red.” She was talking fast now, her brain sorting through bits and slivers of fast-moving images, trying to put it all together into one cohesive thought as she went along.

  “I think it was a red car, like the one Sammy Mah told us about, when he saw it over by the noodle factory,” Afton said. “The Asian man who attacked me . . . he wasn’t driving though, somebody else was.”

  “Did you catch the plate number?” Max asked.

  “No, no, but I saw the sticker on the rear window. That’s why I think it was the same car that Sammy Mah saw.”

  “What did the sticker look like? If you can remember, maybe we can get a bead on it.”

  “Blue and white. Forming a tower or some sort of bridge.” Afton clenched her jaw. “I think. It all happened so fast.”

  “Give me five minutes,” Max said. “I’m gonna call downtown and have somebody look through those books we have. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Okay, okay.” Afton hung up, shaking.

  “Mommy?” a small voice said.

  Afton looked over to see Poppy and Tess sitting on chairs in the waiting room. They were pale and quiet and looked about as scared as she’d ever seen them.

  “Kids,” she said. She swooped across the waiting room and swept them up in her arms, hugging them tight. “Are you okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re okay, right?” They had to be.

  Tess nodded, Poppy looked a little unsure.

  “I’m so sorry this happened,” Afton crooned, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry you had to see that awful man.”

  “Who was he?” Tess asked.

  “One of the bad guys,” Afton said.

  “What about Bonaparte?” Poppy asked. “He got really hurt when he tried to save you. Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

  Afton released her grip on them. “I don’t know. Let me go check.”

  She staggered back toward the front desk and managed a shaky smile. “My dog. The French bulldog?”

  “He’s in surgery,” the receptionist said. She wore blue-and-white scrubs with cute little paw prints scattered all over them, and she spoke in a calming manner. “The doctor is working on your little guy right now.”

  “How long . . . before we know?”

  “Probably a couple of hours.”

  “I need to take my kids home,” Afton said.

  “Go,” the receptionist said. “Take them home. Your dog is in good hands, I guarantee it.”

  Just as Afton was walking out the door with her kids, Max called back.

  “I had Dick Babbitt, who’s minding the phones in Homicide today, take a look through the files and he says it sounds an awful lot like the Duluth Port Authority logo.”

  “No kidding,” Afton breathed. Here was something. Maybe.

  “Wait,” Max said. “He’s texting me the image now. Give me a minute and I’ll forward it to you.”

  Afton, Poppy, and Tess all waited outside on the grass, watching a little white poodle get lifted out of a red Jeep and then limp toward the front door of the clinic with its owner.

  “Poor dog,” Poppy whispered. It had been a horrifying and tragically sobering day for her.

  Then Afton’s phone dinged and the image was right there in front of her. The logo for the Duluth Seaway Port Authority.

  “That’s it!” Afton cried when Max came on the line. “That’s the exact image I saw on the red car’s rear window. What can . . . I mean, what can you find out about this? Maybe run a list of guys from up in Duluth who might have this sticker on their car? The guys who work at the Port Authority?”

  “We’ll do that,” Max said. He sounded calm and in charge. “We’re doing it right now.”

  “Okay, good.” Then, “Jeez, I gotta get my kids home. They’re really shaken up.”

  “You go ahead and do that and I’ll swing by your house as soon as I can. I’ll be there in maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes.” Max paused. “You okay to drive? Not too rattled? I can always send a squad.”

  “I’m okay,” Afton said, her voice quavering. “But the dog . . . the dog is bad.”

  47

  NARONG was hurting and angry from his dog bites, but it was nothing compared to the ferocity that Mom Chao Cherry leveled at him.

  “You went after a policewoman!” she screamed. “You tried to compromise my business! My sole reason for being here.” Her flat, dark eyes drilled into Narong, her mouth was an angry slash of red. “I should kill you this instant.”

  “Khwam metta,” Narong said. Mercy. “I please beg your forgiveness.” Hack had wrapped a bandana around his wounded hand and now he cradled it, hoping Mom Chao Cherry would see he was in considerable pain.

  “You are a stupid boy,” she said, her voice practically quavering with anger.

  Narong bowed his head contritely. “I am stupid.” He wondered what punishment Mom Chao Cherry would inflict upon him? Would she really kill him? Or would she leave him behind when she returned to Thailand? He was terrified that he would be left by himself in America with Hack as his only friend. Narong cocked his head sideways to risk a quick glance at Hack. Was Hack his friend? The man wasn’t saying very much right now.

  “Stupid,” Mom Chao Cherry muttered again. “So stupid.”

  Narong flinched, wishing the old lady would snort a line of coke to calm herself down.

  “If I could add my two cents here, ma’am,” Hack said, finally speaking up.

  “No two cents when millions are at stake,” Mom Chao Cherry spat at him.

  Hack managed to pull his face into a look of self-reproach. It was the same expression that usually worked wonders with his ex-wives, girlfriends, and any other women he was trying to con.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Hack said to Mom Chao Cherry. “But, hell, we was just trying to get a little payback.” He ducked his head and tried to inject even more remorse into his voice. And a bit of conviction, too. “You of all people should understand that. Payback, I mean.”

  Narong squinted at Mom Chao Cherry. Was she buying into Hack’s reasoning? He fervently hoped that she was.

  Mom Chao Cherry sighed deeply. “Yes. Payback,” she said. “That is something I very much understand.” She turned away from Narong and Hack and glanced at the three other men. Chati, Somsak, and Prasong had remained mum, terrified to get involved. As far as Mom Chao Cherry was concerned, these three men were good little soldiers who had followed their marching orders to the letter. They had gone along with Narong and Hack, helped obtain her stolen goods, and brought them back to her.

  “Come,” Mom Chao Cherry said, waving an imperious hand.

  Narong, Hack, and the three men dutifully followed her downstairs into the basement, where their two prisoners were being kept. The minute they hit the bottom step, the wailing started up. Terrell had managed to slip her gag off.

  “Let me go, you crazy bitch!” Terrell shouted at Mom Chao Cherry. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t keep me prisoner in this shit hole!”

  Mom Chao Cherry led her contingent over to the far wall, where Terrell and Snell were handcuffed to a large iron pipe that disappeared into the cement floor. “You’re wrong, child,” she said. “I can do anything I wish.”

  Terrell was about to let loose an unholy shriek again when she thought better of it, caught herself, and snapped her mouth shut. There was something in Mom Chao Cherry’s eyes—something ruthless and malevolent—that led Terrell to believe this woman might be savoring her predicament. That she might be enjoying this spectacle a little too much.

  Terrell forced herself to take a more modulated tone. “There’s absolutely no reason for you to hurt me. My mother is wealth
y and will pay you a lot of money for my safe return.”

  That was Snell’s cue to jump in, too.

  “Yeah,” Snell said. “Terrell’s mother is rich. She’ll give you a whole bundle of money. All you have to do is let us go.”

  “Shut up,” Terrell spat at him. “Stay out of this.”

  “Please, Terrell,” Snell whined. “Don’t be like that, for god’s sake. I mean, you can’t just leave me behind and let these assholes kill me!” He was yammering away, stunned that Terrell would dime him out so easily.

  “Shut up,” Terrell snarled again. “This is between me and her.” She gazed, unblinking, at Mom Chao Cherry.

  Mom Chao Cherry moved a step closer. “You are his daughter?”

  Terrell shook her head. “No, no way. He wasn’t my dad. He just married my mother. I came along for the ride.”

  “For the ride,” Mom Chao Cherry said. “Very interesting the way you phrase that. But you spent the old man’s money, did you not?”

  Terrell grimaced. Mom Chao Cherry had her there, and she didn’t much like it. Didn’t like the direction in which this conversation was going either. “Well, maybe,” she admitted. “Some of it, I guess.”

  Mom Chao Cherry stared at Terrell much the same way a lion might observe a lame zebra on the Serengeti. “I will have to think about this,” she said finally.

  48

  TO the rest of the Twin Cities, Sunday was an absolute pitch-perfect day. The sun continued to shine down and the last of the snow piles, accumulation from a dozen fierce winter storms, had turned into melting blobs that trickled into storm sewers. With a few kites tossing wildly in the nearby park, thirty-below wind chills were just a fading memory.

  But a pall of fear and anxiety hung over Afton’s small Minneapolis home.

  Inside, Poppy and Tess sat at the kitchen table, stiff and shell-shocked, while Lish rattled around nervously, making hot chocolate and putting out a plate of snickerdoodles. Afton just stood there with her arms wrapped across her chest, observing the scene but feeling chilled to the bone.

  Two cookies later, Tess had calmed down, but Poppy was still oozing tears.

  “What about Bonaparte?” Poppy asked.

  “We’ll have to wait and see,” Afton said for about the twentieth time. Poppy’s questions were tearing her heart out.

  “What if he’s dead!”

  “He’s not dead,” Tess wheezed angrily. “He can’t be. We love him too much!” But she looked scared all over again, unsettled by Poppy’s fear.

  And it wasn’t an irrational fear, Afton told herself. The dog looked like he’d been injured very badly. So who knew what the outcome would be?

  A sharp rap sounded on the front door and Max, not waiting for an invitation, came rushing in. He was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, as if he’d just come from a softball game, and his expression was almost as stunned as Afton’s.

  “Are you kids okay?” he asked Poppy and Tess. But he was also asking about Afton.

  “We’re hanging in there,” Afton said. “Though the girls are pretty shaken up.”

  Tess pursed her lips. “We’ve been traumatized,” she said.

  “I know you have,” Max said. “And I’m very sorry.”

  Afton put a hand on her hip as she faced Max. “How did they know I’d be at the park?” A note of hysteria started to creep in. “They must know where I live. They must have followed me.”

  “Damn,” Lish said, biting her lip.

  “Maybe we should take the kids to Mickey’s place?” Afton asked.

  “You don’t need to do that,” Max said. “We’ve got a couple of squads on the way over here. They’ll keep watch over the house. The girls will be completely safe. If you’re still worried, we can put a female officer inside.”

  Afton shook her head. “No. That would be too . . . disruptive.”

  Max cleared his throat. “I just got off the horn with Thacker. He’s called an emergency team meeting.”

  “Let me guess,” Afton said. “And he wants me to come. Now I’m an integral part of the team.”

  Max flapped a hand. “Hey. I don’t make policy.”

  Lish flew across the kitchen and planted herself directly in front of Max. “You expect Afton to work right now?” she asked. “After everything she and the kids have been through?” She shook a warning finger at him.

  “We need her now more than ever,” Max said. “She’s the only one who’s gotten a decent look at this asshole.”

  “You’re not supposed to say bad words like that,” Poppy said.

  “Sorry.” Max’s gaze shifted back to Afton. “But you’ll come?”

  “Yes.” Did she have a choice?

  Lish stepped over to Afton and pulled her sister into a tight embrace. “Be careful,” she cautioned. “If anybody dares come after you again, just step aside and let your lunkhead friend here shoot him. Ask questions later, okay?”

  Afton nodded. “Okay.”

  Max squinted at Lish. “I don’t know if you just insulted my character or my shooting skills.”

  • • •

  AFTON slid into the front seat of Max’s car and slammed the door hard. “I hate feeling like this,” she muttered.

  “Feeling like what?” Max asked. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  “Vulnerable. Like I don’t even know how to keep my kids safe.” Every muscle in Afton’s body felt taut as a piano wire, and the vestiges of adrenaline still coursing through her veins made her feel buzzy and electric. “I want to get my hands around that asshole’s neck and squeeze the life out of him.” She balled her hands into fists and brought them crashing down on the dashboard of Max’s car.

  “Hey, enough with the violence,” Max said. “Five more payments and this sweet ride is mine.”

  Afton ignored Max and continued to steam. “Coming after me . . . when my kids were there. I just want to get my hands on that piece of crap one more time . . .”

  “Hey,” Max said. “Look . . . look at me.”

  Afton turned to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with angry tears.

  “This guy putting your kids in danger . . . it’s like he went after my own kids,” Max said. “You know?” He turned his focus back on the road. “Don’t think I’m going to rest until we catch this guy. I swear, we’re going to nab him and perp walk his ass right through the front door of the station, okay? Throw him in jail and make sure he gets the absolute dumbest public defender we can muster up.”

  Afton managed a thin smile. “Thanks, Max. But I feel like there’s been a dark cloud hanging over me ever since I chased that guy at the hospital. I don’t know how to explain it . . . but for the first time in my life I actually want to kill someone. I know that sounds awful, like I’m some kind of sociopath, but there it is. That’s the bare naked truth.”

  “Hey,” Max said, “we spend all sorts of time reassuring our kids that monsters don’t exist. But they do exist, in all shapes and sizes. You and I, we’ve come to learn that firsthand. Well, today your kids had the misfortune to meet one of those monsters. And when they’re put in that kind of horrific danger, we react badly. We lose our shit.”

  “You think I lost my shit?”

  “Well, sure,” he said mildly. “But in a good way.”

  They spun down Park Avenue, thinking their private thoughts, not talking for a while.

  Finally, Afton said, “How are we gonna catch this guy, Max? And that woman we think he’s working with?”

  “We keep our eyes open. We press everyone. Tighten the screws on Sunny and the rest of the people around her. Hell, Afton, I even sent the Crime Scene team to that Quaking Bog place you told me about.”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything there to find,” Afton said. She felt disheartened, as if she should have done more.

  “Don’t think about it. Just let our guys do their jobs.” Max’s cell phone buzzed noisily from the bin between the two front seats. “Now, who’s that?”

  Aft
on picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. “Sunny Odin,” she said.

  A look of annoyance crossed Max’s face. “What does she want?”

  Afton thumbed the On button, put it on speaker, and handed the phone to Max.

  “This is Detective Montgomery.”

  “Detective Montgomery!” Sunny cried. “What have you done with Terrell? You have her, don’t you? Please tell me you do.”

  Max and Afton exchanged glances.

  “Whoa,” Max said. “Slow down. What exactly are you talking about?”

  “You must have her!” Sunny said again. “What have you done with my baby?”

  “We don’t have your daughter, Mrs. Odin,” Max said. “We haven’t seen her since Friday night, when we stopped by her boyfriend’s house.”

  “But she’s been gone for two days,” Sunny sobbed. “Two whole days. I even called the Saint Paul police and they sent a squad to her boyfriend’s house. But there was no sign of them. Terrell’s car is parked there, but the boyfriend’s truck is gone.”

  “I don’t know,” Max said. “Maybe they went out for brunch.”

  “Brunch?” Afton hissed at him. She doubted that Terrell was out guzzling mimosas.

  “Isn’t that what civilians do on Sundays?” Max said under his breath. “Sit around and eat eggs Benedict and hash browns? Shoot the shit?”

  “No,” Afton said.

  “Please,” Sunny implored. “Something’s really wrong, I just know there is.” The fear was palpable in her voice. “How much more clear do I have to be about this? I desperately need your help.”

  “Tell you what,” Max said. “We can put out a BOLO on Snell’s truck. A be on the lookout for. Do you happen to know the make and model?”

  “I have no idea!” Sunny wailed. “All I know is that Terrell’s gone. Probably kidnapped.”

  “Don’t jump to any conclusions,” Max said. “Don’t ever think the worst.”

  Along with Max, Afton was turning Sunny’s words over in her mind, trying to make sense of Terrell’s disappearance.