The Trapped Girl (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 4)

by Robert Dugoni

  Tracy gave his question some thought. They’d already mistakenly sent out her picture to all the news services and local and national law enforcement. At present, she remained dead, and Tracy hoped to talk to Graham Strickland without him knowing otherwise. “Let’s leave that alone for now.”

  Late in the afternoon, Nolasco appeared in their cubicle. He had removed his tie and rolled up the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. “You got jurisdiction,” he said. “Pierce County is transferring the file back up here.”

  “They put up much of a squawk?” Del asked.

  “That’d be putting it mildly.” Nolasco looked to Faz. “They wanted to know how you got the DNA profiles, and don’t think for a minute I believed that crap about you remembering an autopsy photo, Fazio.”

  “You underestimate me, Captain,” Faz said.

  “Yeah.” Nolasco turned his attention to Tracy. “And I’m not buying that bullshit that you got out the DNA kits before we lost jurisdiction, but I’m being told to leave it be, so I’m going to leave it be. But let me be very clear about this. You screw this up and the hammer is going to fall hard on all four of you. It’s like Martinez said—you wanted this case. You got it. So get it done.” Nolasco left the bull pen, stopped, and turned back. “One other thing. You’re to keep Pierce County fully informed of every development.”

  “What?” Tracy said, not relishing the thought of sharing any information with Stan Fields. “Why?”

  “Because that’s the agreement reached,” Nolasco said. “You provide them with copies of your reports, witness interviews, and anything that has to do with Andrea Strickland. I’m assuming that’s not going to be a problem?”

  Nobody spoke.

  “Good.” Nolasco departed.

  “Hey, it’s a victory,” Faz said. “Let’s not let him make it feel hollow.”

  Bennett Lee called Tracy shortly after Nolasco departed their bull pen. Lee wanted to read her a media statement SPD intended to make at an afternoon news conference. He said he’d keep it simple. He’d state that, after DNA analysis, it had been determined that the woman in the crab pot was not Andrea Strickland, the Portland resident believed to have disappeared on Mount Rainier. Tracy asked him why he had to say anything, and Lee told her the brass could not bury the fact that the victim was not Strickland. Lee agreed not to disclose the identity of the woman in the pot, pending notification of next of kin. That meant Tracy would have to expedite any interview of Graham Strickland. Lee would further advise the media that since the body had been found in Seattle, the Pierce County Sheriff’s office had voluntarily agreed to relinquish jurisdiction and return the investigation to the Seattle Police Department, but that both agencies would continue to cooperate with each another.

  “‘Voluntarily agreed to relinquish jurisdiction’?” Tracy said. “Did you come up with that language?”

  “That’s how they want to spin it,” Lee said. “I have a news conference at five if you’re interested.”

  When Tracy walked into her kitchen at the end of the day, Dan greeted her with a kiss. He’d formed hamburger patties and was in the process of making a salad. Rex and Sherlock gave her a perfunctory greeting but quickly returned to Dan’s side, noses lifted to the counter and eyes glued to the plate of beef.

  “When it comes to raw meat, we’re a couple of brussels sprouts,” Dan said. “You made good time.”

  “One of the few advantages of working late. No traffic. We got the crab pot case back.”

  “Saw it on the news.” Dan carried the plate of hamburger patties out to the barbecue on the deck. “Vanpelt didn’t pull any punches.”

  “That’s why we all love her.”

  As word leaked that the woman in the crab pot was not Andrea Strickland, speculation rose in the media about the identity of the woman and what it meant. Was Andrea Strickland alive, dead on the mountain, dead someplace else? It had led to a packed news conference and made Bennett Lee’s press conference the lead on the local evening news, which the four detectives had watched together in the B Team’s bull pen, along with half a dozen other detectives from their section, and the Burglary Section down the hall.

  Dan picked up the plate of patties. “Should I put these on or do you want a chance to unwind?”

  “No, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  “You want a hamburger bun with yours?”

  “I better not,” she said, following him and the dogs out onto the deck. “If I’m going to fit into anything resembling a wedding dress, I better go easy on the carbs.”

  “You given that much thought?” Dan placed the burgers on the already-warm grill. They sizzled and sparked a small flame.

  “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  Dan nodded, spatula in hand, but she knew him well enough to know he had something else on his mind. “You don’t want to be surprised?” she asked.

  “No, it’s all good. You want cheese on yours?”

  “You know, if we’re going to get married we’re both going to need to do a better job of being honest with each other.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “I think you should wear a wedding dress.”

  It had been the last thing she expected him to say, and she stumbled to respond. “You mean an actual wedding dress with a veil and train and push-up bustier?”

  “Definitely the push-up bustier,” he said, closing the lid on the grill. Smoke seeped out the back. “And I think you should ask Kins to give you away.”

  She chuckled softly at the thought of it, then realized Dan was serious. “Are you talking about a traditional wedding, Dan O’Leary?”

  “I am.”

  “You do realize we’ve both been married already.”

  “Yes, but you never got your wedding.”

  Dan turned from the barbecue and looked at her with a serious gaze. Tracy had told him she and Ben became engaged the same night Sarah disappeared, but that she’d never had the opportunity to plan the wedding she’d envisioned. Instead, and more because she was afraid of losing him, Tracy and Ben got married in a civil ceremony at the courthouse, just the two of them. Two court clerks had served as witnesses. The decision had been a mistake. Her thoughts and actions had remained focused on finding out what had happened to Sarah, and when she could not move on, Ben had. The divorce papers had come in the mail.

  Astonished and moved that Dan had remembered, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I don’t need anything extravagant, Dan.”

  “It’s not about what you need. It’s about what you deserve.”

  She struggled again to find the right words. She wanted a traditional wedding. She’d always envisioned a traditional wedding. She just never thought it possible.

  “And you deserve the wedding you envisioned,” Dan continued. “I know it was a bad time, and I know you’ll never say you were disappointed your engagement and wedding got buried by Sarah’s disappearance, but I also know there is a part of you that still thinks about what that day might have been like.”

  “Things happen,” she said softly. “Dreams change.” She moved to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m happy I have the man of my dreams.”

  “And I’m happy with the woman of my dreams,” he said, “but there’s no reason you can’t have the fairy-tale wedding of your dreams too.”

  She took a deep breath. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “I really have. Look, I don’t want to say I feel bad for you because I know how much you love to be pitied, but I do feel bad for you. I feel bad that you had to go through everything you’ve gone through. I feel bad that it all happened on the night you got engaged, and that you never had the wedding of your dreams.”

  His comment made her think again of Andrea Strickland and her horrible life, regardless of whether she was alive, or deceased. Tracy knew, as much as anyone, there were no guarantees in life. Tomorrow was not a given.

  She kissed him. “Is that the reason for the lighthouse an
d the restaurant—the fairy tale?”

  He shrugged and smiled, close lipped.

  “Because you are truly a prince.”

  “Still masculine, though, right? Not the tights-wearing prince who sings and dances.”

  She laughed. “Definitely still masculine. Okay,” she said, “but if we’re going for the full-blown fantasy I do have a request.”

  “Fire away, Cinderella.”

  “How much pull do you have with that Coast Guard commander?”

  “You want to get married at the lighthouse?”

  “Unless you have access to a castle.”

  “I think it will be perfect,” Dan said. “And I just so happen to know that they do allow weddings.”

  She chuckled. “You looked into it already.”

  Dan feigned ignorance. “Like I said, you deserve the fairy-tale wedding.”

  She kissed him warmly, again, and could feel their bodies relaxing into each another. “Dan,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Turn off the grill so the hamburgers don’t burn.”

  “I thought you were starving.”

  “I am, but now I’m starving for something better than hamburger.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The following morning, Tracy and Kins were once again traveling south on the I-5 freeway to Portland. They had worked late putting together a probable-cause affidavit to search Strickland’s Pearl District loft, where he had lived with Andrea and apparently remained. Kins had transmitted the affidavit to Detective Jonathan Zhu in Portland. After talking with Strickland, they would accompany Zhu to a local judge to get a warrant issued. They had no idea what they might find in the apartment, if anything, but stranger things had happened, and it was a stone neither felt comfortable leaving unturned.

  Kins had also asked Zhu to run Devin Chambers through Portland’s system. Zhu sent back an e-mail with attachments, and Tracy reviewed them on the three-hour drive south.

  “She had two prior arrests in New Jersey in her early twenties, one for check fraud, and another for obtaining prescriptions from doctors under false pretenses. Both were expunged.”

  “Sounds like her sister had her pegged,” Kins said.

  Chambers spent thirty days in a “sober-living house” and had been required to attend AA meetings. Her compliance had expunged her file. Nothing in her bank statements or on her credit card or cell phone records indicated she’d recently come into money, or that she was preparing to flee the country. In fact, she had no savings and very little in her checking account. It wouldn’t come close to paying off her considerable credit card debt, all of which was also in accord with what her sister had described.

  This time, Tracy and Kins did not call ahead to ask Phil Montgomery’s permission to speak to Strickland. Instead, Tracy called the law firm where Strickland now worked, and posed as a potential client hoping to set up a meeting. Strickland’s assistant advised that Strickland had interviews in the office all morning, and a lunch meeting out of the office, but said he could meet with her at 3:00 p.m. Tracy said she’d get back to her and hung up.

  With cell phones, it was always possible Strickland could still call his lawyer, tell Tracy and Kins to go piss in a pool, and sit mute. Tracy sensed that would not be the case. She had the same feeling about Strickland that Stan Fields had shared. Strickland believed he was smarter than everybody, and he would think he could run circles around them. Tracy was counting on that arrogance.

  The law firm where Strickland worked was in a converted one-story house in a mixed residential and commercial neighborhood. Most of the buildings had bars on the windows and metal gates protecting the front doors.

  “My how the mighty have fallen,” Kins said.

  “Maybe not that far.” Tracy pointed out Strickland’s cherry-red Porsche parked in the home’s driveway.

  “Why doesn’t he just put a ‘Steal Me’ sign on the windshield and be done with it?” Kins said.

  Kins parked across the street in a spot where they could view the car. Though it remained warm, eighty-eight degrees, the sky had begun to cloud over and to darken. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees along the block.

  “You and Dan made any plans for the wedding?” Kins asked as they settled in to wait.

  “We were talking about it last night. Dan wants a traditional wedding.”

  Kins made a face. “You mean like a priest and a church and all that pomp and circumstance?”

  “Pretty much, though I’ve told him I want to get married at the Alki Point Lighthouse.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Apparently. That’s where he proposed.”

  “Nice,” Kins said. “You know that guy is making the rest of us look bad. Don’t tell Shannah.”

  “Too late. Why, how did you propose?”

  “My last college game, I walked to the stands where she was waiting, and instead of kissing her, I dropped to a knee.”

  “Please don’t tell me you had the ring in your pants.”

  “Football pants don’t have pockets.”

  “I know.”

  Kins laughed. “No. Her sister held it for me.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?”

  “I didn’t think anything was wrong with it. Shannah thinks I did it because with 60,000 fans watching she couldn’t turn me down.”

  Tracy laughed. “Dan wants me to wear a wedding dress and have someone give me away.”

  Kins nodded, clearly thinking that statement through. “You given that any thought?”

  “A little bit. I have a question to ask you.”

  “Fire away,” Kins said, now smiling.

  “Do you think Faz would do it?”

  “Fuck you, Crosswhite.” He laughed, then suddenly sat up and started the car. “There’s our boy.”

  Strickland bounded down two wood steps in straight-leg jeans and a fashionable long-sleeve shirt with the cuffs rolled up and tail hanging out. He slid into the Porsche, fired up the engine with a roar, and peeled out of the driveway onto the street, as if in a hurry.

  “Everything is for show with this guy, isn’t it?” Kins said, following at a safe distance.

  Strickland drove west, made a couple of turns, and crossed the Ross Island Bridge.

  “You think he’s heading home?” Tracy asked.

  “Don’t know. Right direction, though,” Kins said. “Receptionist said he had an appointment?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  Strickland exited just after crossing the bridge. He took surface streets along the Willamette River then quickly pulled to the curb. Kins slid behind a parked car. They watched Strickland exit the Porsche and walk toward the waterfront.

  “I hope he’s not another one of those people who likes to walk on their lunch hour,” Kins said.

  “Not in those shoes,” Tracy said.

  Strickland disappeared beneath a brown awning and entered a restaurant called Three Degrees.

  “You hungry?” Tracy asked.

  “I am now,” Kins said, pushing out of the car.

  They ignored the maître d’, telling the young woman they were meeting someone for lunch, and found Strickland seated beneath an umbrella at a table on the patio. He had his head down, fingers moving rapidly across the keypad of his cell phone.

  Strickland looked up expectantly when Tracy pulled out the chair to his right. His smile quickly faded to confusion, then concern.

  “What are you doing here?” Strickland’s gaze flicked between Kins and Tracy. His cheeks flushed.

  Tracy sat. “We came to tell you good news, Mr. Strickland. Your wife is not the woman in the crab pot.”

  “I already know that,” Strickland said. “It was all over the news. And my attorney called to let me know.”

  Kins shrugged at Tracy. “Looks like we drove a long way for nothing.”

  “I would have thought the news would have made you happy,” Tracy said.

  “Not really,” Strickland said. “She’s sti
ll missing, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, there’s that,” Kins said.

  “I’ve already talked to you about this,” Strickland said, dropping his gaze back to his cell phone.

  “We’re not here to talk about your wife,” Tracy said, keeping her tone informal. “We came to ask you a few questions about Devin Chambers.”

  At the mention of the name, Strickland’s fingers paused on the keypad.

  “You do know her, don’t you?” Tracy asked.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Strickland raised his gaze. “Of course I know her,” he said, calm. “She was a friend of Andrea’s.”

  “How close were they?” Tracy asked, deciding to play him for a bit.

  Strickland sat back and crossed his legs, leaving his phone on the table. The canvas of the umbrella rippled in the breeze, sounding like a sail catching the wind. “I don’t really know. She and Devin worked together.”

  “How much time did they spend together outside of work?”

  “I really couldn’t say for certain. Andrea didn’t go out much after work. She was an introvert.”

  “How did she spend her time?”

  “Reading. She read all the time.”

  “What was your relationship to Devin Chambers?” Tracy asked.

  “I didn’t have one,” Strickland said, his demeanor still relaxed.

  Lightning crackled, a blue-white fork in the distance. Seconds later came another clap of thunder.

  The waitress returned. “Would you rather move inside?”

  Strickland shook his head. “This is fine,” he said, almost as if he were playing a game of chicken with Tracy and Kins.

  The waitress looked to the empty chair. “Are we waiting for one more?”

  “Yes,” Strickland said.

  After the waitress departed, Tracy said, “Did you have a romantic relationship with Devin Chambers?”

  “What?” Strickland made a face like it was a ridiculous question. “No, of course not.”

  “Adultery isn’t a crime, Mr. Strickland,” Kins said.

  “I’m aware of that, Detective.”

  “Your wife told her boss you were having an affair.”