Thread of Innocence (Joe Tyler Mystery #4)

by Jeff Shelby

  She looked at me, disappointment on her face. “Can I go then? By myself? I don't like to miss days.”

  I shook my head. “You actually don't have time. You're going to Minnesota.”

  “What?”

  I explained to her what Lauren and I had decided the night before and on cue, Lauren emerged from the bedroom, already showered and dressed.

  Elizabeth looked at her. “So we're going this morning?”

  She nodded, then looked at me. “If your dad got the flights booked.”

  “I did,” I said. “Need to leave here in about an hour for the airport.”

  Elizabeth looked down at the table and shuffled her bare feet against the floor.

  “Is that alright?” Lauren asked, glancing first at her, then me. “Or do you not want to go now?”

  “No, I do,” she said. “I just...I just wasn't expecting to go today. So fast. But it's fine.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “We can delay it. We were just thinking that sooner rather than later was better and your mom is free to travel right now.”

  “No, it's fine,” Elizabeth said. “I'm just surprised.” She looked at each of us. “I guess I need to go pack then.” She hesitated. “And thank you.”

  We both watched her go up the stairs.

  “She didn't seem thrilled,” Lauren said, taking Elizabeth's seat.

  I shrugged. “We surprised her. Probably wasn't ready.”

  “I'm not sure I am,” Lauren said.

  “Not sure anyone is,” I said. “But if we wait around we might be waiting forever. This is her chance for her to close things up there and come back and get life started again. Here. With us.” I waved a hand over the table. “Close the door on Minnesota and moved forward.”

  Lauren nodded. “I know. It's just going to be weird.”

  “You don't have to let her do anything you aren't comfortable with,” I said. “If she gets pissed, she gets pissed. We have to remember that we're still her parents.”

  “Do I let her meet with them?” Lauren said, lowering her voice. “Without me?”

  “I'd say a neutral spot at first,” I said. “With you there. Restaurant, coffee shop, whatever. Let them know you aren't totally comfortable being there, but we're doing it for Elizabeth. I think that'll help set the tone. After that, I'm sure she's going to want to go to their house.” I paused, thinking. “She probably does need some time alone with them. So maybe you take her and you stay in the living room or something. They can talk in her room. I know that most likely they didn't have anything to really do with her disappearance and they bought a bullshit story to adopt her. They were desperate for a child. They treated her well, as far as we know and that's good. But we don't want them getting comfortable with her or with us. Do what your gut tells you.” I paused again. “The one place I wouldn't let her go alone is to a friend's.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too many bad ideas could pop up,” I explained. “Running, hiding, whatever. So if she wants to see a friend or something, maybe you meet again at a restaurant or wherever. You can sit a table over or whatever. But I wouldn't leave her alone for that.”

  She nodded slowly, thinking over my words. “Okay.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe you should go, Joe.”

  “Why?”

  She ran a hand through her damp hair. “Because you know how to do all of this. I have no clue. But you seem to know what's best. I don't wanna screw it up.”

  I reached across the table for her hand. Her skin was still warm from the shower. “It'll be fine. There's no right or wrong. Err on the side of caution. And like I said. I think you two need the time together.” I squeezed her hand. “If it's bad or you don't like it or whatever, then tell me and I'll come. I'll jump on a plane right then when you call. But I think it should be you first.”

  She nodded again, but it didn't seem very confident. “Alright. I need to put a few more things in a bag then.”

  Half an hour later, we were all in the car on the way to the airport. The fog was heavy again, droplets of water riding on the windshield as we drove. No one spoke and even the radio couldn't diminish the weight of the silence. I wondered what each of them was thinking about.

  I pulled into the short term parking lot and walked them into the terminal. It was late morning and the early morning travelers had already come and gone, leaving the airport quiet and uncrowded. I found the airline kiosk and printed off their boarding passes for them and walked them to the security line.

  Lauren hugged me first. “We'll call you when we get there.”

  “Sure.”

  She kissed my cheek and stepped back, adjusting the bag on her arm.

  Elizabeth stood there for a moment, neither of us knowing what to do. Finally, I took a step toward her and put my arms around her so she wouldn't have to make the decision as to whether or not to hug me. I was relieved when she hugged me back.

  “Listen to your mom, okay?” I said, rubbing her back. “She's going with you to help, not hurt. Okay?”

  She nodded against my chest. “Okay.”

  She let go of me and I smiled at both of them as they turned and got in the security line. They did the serpentine thing, following the back and forth pattern provided by the ropes. Halfway through, Lauren said something over her shoulder and Elizabeth laughed. They handed their paperwork to the TSA agent who scanned it quickly, made a few marks and handed it back. They set their stuff on the conveyor belts and stepped through the x-ray machines. They reclaimed their belongings on the other side, slipped their shoes on and both waved at me before disappearing around the corner, headed toward their gate.

  I knew people would wonder why we were letting Elizabeth go back. But like I'd said to Lauren, more than anything, my gut told me the Corzines were guilty of buying a bullshit story. They'd taken care of Elizabeth. They'd given her a good life. This wasn't something where she'd been abused and held against her will. They'd treated her well. While I didn't care what their feelings were now, I did care about Elizabeth's and in my heart, I truly thought that letting her and Lauren go to close things up was the right thing to do.

  I stood their for a moment, unable to get my feet to move. I didn't like seeing them go, even if I thought it was the right thing to do. It was harder than I'd expected. When they were with me, I felt like I could protect them and soothe the tension between them. But now that they were gone, my hands were tied and I was more of a bystander than anything else.

  I crossed my fingers and hoped it would go smoothly for them.

  SEVENTEEN

  I walked out to my car and the fog was gone, replaced by a hazy sun. The harbor sparkled across the road, boats sailing in the breeze, heading out toward Point Loma and the Pacific. I leaned against the door for a moment, letting the sun warm my face, appreciating a view I hadn't taken the time to appreciate in quite some time. I thought about popping the trunk and getting what I needed, but decided to make a phone call I'd been contemplating making for awhile instead. I pulled the phone from my pocket, scrolled through the contacts and touched the number I wanted, squinting into the late morning sunshine as I put the phone to my ear.

  John Anchor answered on the second ring. “Mr. Tyler. This is an unexpected surprise.”

  “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  “Never a bad time,” Anchor answered.

  John Anchor worked for a man named Peter Codaselli in Minneapolis. When I'd gone to Minnesota tracking Elizabeth, I'd ended up helping Codaselli find his son. He, in turn, had made Anchor available to me if I needed his assistance in any way. He'd proven indispensable in helping me find Elizabeth back in San Diego and was the kind of guy you wanted on your side rather than a guy you wanted showing up at your door unannounced. He seemed to run Codaselli's operation and he did so smoothly, professionally and ruthlessly. He'd helped me, but I wasn't fooled in any way.

  John Anchor wasn't one of the good guys.

  “How are things with your daughter?” he asked.


  “Okay,” I answered. “We're getting along as best as possible.”

  “She's adjusting?”

  “She's trying, which is all we're asking.”

  “That's good to hear,” he said. “Any further information on what happened to her?”

  I paused. “That's sort of why I'm calling.”

  He didn't say anything and the line buzzed.

  “I'm wondering if you might be able to find anything about a woman trafficking kids out of Phoenix,” I said. “I've run into a wall here.”

  “You think she was involved in your daughter's disappearance?”

  “I think she played a role,” I said. “I'm just not sure to what extent.”

  “What information do you have?”

  “Just what the family that Elizabeth ended up with in Minnesota told me,” I said. “That she was supposedly in Phoenix. That her fee was exorbitant. That's about it. I don't even think the federal agent here working Elizabeth's case has been able to dig anything up. So that's why I called you.”

  “Right,” Anchor said. “That's not much to go on.”

  “I know.”

  “But I can certainly see what I can find,” he said.

  “I'd appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  It was quiet for a moment.

  “Mr. Tyler, I want to tread lightly here,” Anchor said. “You know how grateful Mr. Codaselli was in your assistance with finding his son. And we were more than happy to return the favor in helping to locate your daughter.”

  “I know what you're saying, John,” I said, squinting again into the sun.

  “Do you?”

  “I understand that I used up Mr. Codaselli's favor,” I said. “Which I appreciated. But I understand that any further assistance would place me on the other side of the ledger. I would be in Mr. Codaselli's debt.”

  “So you do understand,” Anchor said.

  “I do,” I answered.

  And I did. I knew that nothing was free with men like Codaselli and Anchor. They had repaid their debt to me by helping me locate and rescue Elizabeth. We were square. If I wanted their help in any way now, it was a new transaction, one that I'd be held accountable for. I knew that before I'd made the phone call.

  “And you understand that when and if we asked for your assistance, we would expect it as soon as reasonably possible? Without objection to the task?”

  The sails on the boats in the harbor billowed in the breeze.

  “I understand fully, John,” I said. “You have my word.”

  The line buzzed again for a moment.

  “Excellent,” Anchor said. “Give me a few hours and I'll see what I can come up with. I assume you'll be reachable?”

  I pushed myself off the car, popped the trunk and grabbed the backpack I'd stowed in there under a blanket before Elizabeth and Lauren had gotten up. I closed the trunk and watched the sailboats float across the water.

  “Getting on a plane to Phoenix in just a bit,” I said. “You can leave me a voicemail if you have anything before I land.”

  EIGHTEEN

  The actual flight time from San Diego to Phoenix was fifty two minutes and gate to gate, it took just over an hour to move from the coast to the desert.

  When I'd booked Lauren's and Elizabeth's flights to Minneapolis, I'd taken a look at the flights to Phoenix. They were cheap and I realized I could get there and get back and no one would be the wiser. Not because I wanted to keep it from them, but I knew Lauren had enough to worry about going with Elizabeth and I didn't want to add anything to her plate. I booked the flight, threw a change of clothes in a backpack and tossed it in the trunk of the car beneath a blanket. I felt slightly guilty, but not enough to keep me from going.

  The quick trip over the mountains and desert was smooth and I could feel the difference in the dry, desert air as I walked off the plane through the jetway. The airport in Phoenix was more crowded than San Diego and I weaved my way through the masses of people carrying golf clubs and pushing strollers to the rental counters. I arranged for a car, found it in the garage and drove away from the airport without a clue as to what I was doing.

  The freeways were clogged, but I got the car going in the direction of Scottsdale. It was the one area of the Phoenix suburbs that I knew, having helped a family there locate their son nearly four years prior. It was the kind of place that kids weren't supposed to disappear from – gated neighborhoods, expensive cars and upscale shops – but a fourteen year old boy was abducted by a Phoenix man with a criminal history that ran the length of a single sheet of paper. I'd found the man and, a day later, he told me where to find the boy's body in a ravine north of Scottsdale. I made him drive me there and when I saw the boy's lifeless body there, he tried to explain to me how it had been an accident. I punched him twice in the face, shattering his jaw and called the police.

  I hadn't been back since.

  I went east, first toward the mountains that ringed the entire Phoenix area, then followed the freeway north into Scottsdale. I took the long route through the city, starting down in the old part of the town near the mall and working my way up toward the larger resorts and newer, more expensive shops. Not much looked familiar and all I could remember was that I'd been there.

  That happened a lot with the places I'd gone to help. I rarely remembered the details of the places, too focused on whatever task I was handling to take in the sights and the local ambience. The buildings and street names and faces blended together. I didn't remember the food or the weather or the stores. They were lost to me and Scottsdale felt exactly the same.

  My phone dinged as I drove. Lauren texted me to tell me they'd made it and that she'd call later on. That was good. I hadn't yet made up my mind as to whether or not I was going to tell her I was in Arizona. Putting it off for a little bit was what I was hoping for.

  I found a small Mexican restaurant off Scottsdale Boulevard and parked the car. I still had no plan for Phoenix other than to be there, but I was hungry and tired of sitting in traffic, headed to nowhere. I was halfway through a plate of enchiladas when my phone buzzed again. This time, I picked it up.

  “You're already in Phoenix?” John Anchor asked.

  “I am. Been here for maybe an hour.”

  “Am I interrupting anything?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “I have a name and an address for you,” he said. “Not entirely certain what you'll find, but it may serve as a starting point.

  “Hang on a second,” I said. I motioned to my server and asked to borrow a pen. She pulled one from her apron and handed it to me. After I thanked her, I said to Anchor “Okay. I'm ready.”

  “Janine Bandencoop,” he said, then recited an address in Mesa.

  “What do I need to know?” I asked as I stared at the name and address I'd written on the napkin next to my plate.

  “I made a few inquiries,” Anchor explained. “Her name was brought up several times. No real idea of what kind of operation she runs, but her name did come up more than once. Obviously, she's not in Phoenix, but she's close enough that I thought we had a match.”

  “Right.”

  “I have one confirmed case that ties her to trafficking and another that suggests she was involved,” he continued. “The trafficking is, of course, disguised as private adoptions. I trust the information I received. No one could tell me anything as to whether or not she might be tied to a girl with the last name of Tyler who disappeared around the same time Elizabeth did.” He cleared his throat. “It's not as much as I'd hoped to provide you with, but it seems like a start, especially since you're already there.”

  “Anything I should be worried about in approaching her?” I asked, pushing my plate away, no longer hungry.

  “I can't say for certain,” Anchor answered. “As I said, I wasn't able to cull a great amount of information. But I'd say based on whom I spoke with and what she apparently is involved with, I'd approach her with caution.” He paused. “I can send someone
if you'd like.”

  “I'm okay for now,” I said.

  “As you wish,” he said. “I'll keep looking. If I find anything else, I'll let you know immediately. Likewise, if you learn anything from this woman after your visit with her, please share with me if you think it might provide me with another direction in which I might be able to help.”

  It spooked the crap out of me that he spoke like a college professor.

  “I will, John,” I said. “And thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” he replied. “Good luck.”

  I punched off the phone and laid it on the table next to the napkin, staring at the name and address. Neither rang any bells for me, but I didn't expect them to. I was just glad I now had something to do in Phoenix.

  NINETEEN

  I backtracked south of Scottsdale, then east into Mesa, one of the may sprawling suburbs that sprouted during the real estate boom in the Phoenix area. For years, it had been an underpriced market, but when mortgages became easy to come by, the entire region exploded with physical and price growth and the desert suddenly became a cool place to live. When the bubble burst, though, the area, like a lot of others around the country, collapsed. Entire developments went unfinished and abandoned. Retail centers that were promised were never built. Foreclosures skyrocketed. The desert cooled off and left the suburbs with plenty of brand new ghettos.

  The GPS in the rental pulled me off the highway and led me through neighborhood after neighborhood of stucco homes and gravel filled front yards. Some streets seemed like normal suburban areas, while others felt deserted and unkept. Nearly every street had at least one home for sale and many had notices taped to their doors.

  I kept driving.

  I followed the directions from the GPS until I was in the easternmost area of Mesa, nearly to the foothills of the surrounding mountains. It led me into a cul-de-sac and told me I'd arrived at my destination when I reached the end of the cul-de-sac. The house was nothing out of the ordinary. One story, stucco exterior, gravel and cacti in the front yard. Small red pavers cut through the gravel from the sidewalk to the front door. The street seemed to back up to an open area that led to the foothills.