A Trace of Crime Page 15

  “Where the hell is he?” Winchester asked.

  “Good question,” Keri said. “You check under the bed and the closet. I’ll take the bathroom.”

  Without waiting for a response, she headed in the direction of what she assumed was the bathroom. She undid the clasp on her gun holster and rested her fingers on the grip, ready to pull it out if necessary.

  The bathroom, including the shower and walk-in closet, was empty too. When she stepped back into the bedroom, she saw Winchester checking the bedroom window. She noticed he was holding his weapon loosely in his right hand.

  “Locked from the inside,” he said when he saw her. “He’s not in the closet or under the bed.”

  “Bathroom’s clean too,” Keri said just as Crowley and two other agents burst into the room.

  “What the hell?” he asked of no one in particular.

  “He’s not here,” Winchester said.

  “Where the hell did he go?”

  Winchester looked helplessly at Keri.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” she admitted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Keri ignored the chaos around her. As the FBI agents scoured the bedroom, she leaned against the hallway banister, allowing her thoughts to travel wherever they wished, waiting for them to form into something coherent and useful.

  Ever since she’d watched Tim Rainey give his press statement, something had felt off. There was no point to it and he surely knew it. But he had done it anyway. She recalled his face as he spoke. He didn’t look desperate. He looked determined, as if he had a specific purpose in mind.

  After about five minutes, the agents filed out of the room, disheartened. They hadn’t found anything that suggested how Rainey had gotten out or where he might have gone. She stepped back into the room and sat down on the bed, trying to put herself in the mindset of Timothy Rainey.

  It was clear to her that the press statement was a ruse of some sort. Maybe it was intended to make the FBI think he’d lost it so they’d just leave him alone long enough for him to get out. She suspected that while that may have been part of it, there was more to his performance than just that. He had some deeper purpose.

  What was it?

  Two other crucial questions ate at her. How had he gotten out and more importantly, where had he gone?

  She set aside the second question for now, choosing to focus on the first one, which seemed more solvable for the time being. Getting up, she wandered around the bedroom for a few minutes, peeking in the closet and turning on the light. She felt along the walls for any hollow space but found none.

  She got down on her stomach and shined her flashlight under the bed, looking for any disturbed carpeting that might reveal a trap door. She knew the FBI agents had already checked for one but wanted to set her mind at ease.

  She walked over to the still-locked window. How could he have gotten out and left it locked? And even if he had, it was a twenty-foot drop to the ground below. It was hard to imagine he could have just walked away from a jump like that.

  She made her way into the bathroom and looked more closely at the walk-in closet, checking it for hollow spots as well. There were none but she did notice something unusual.

  The closet had one wall that was inset, cutting into the otherwise rectangular room. She returned to the bathroom, assuming that she would find that the inset was because the shower or bathtub needed the extra space. But neither did.

  In fact, that section of wall jutted into the space of the shower as well, making it slightly smaller than one would expect. She tapped it but it was solid. Puzzled, she went into the adjoining bedroom, Nate’s, and found the same purposeless section of wall jutting out into the room slightly. She rapped on it and found no hollow spots there either.

  Like the other sections she had checked, the wall felt somehow firmer and spongier than just regular drywall. On a hunch, she grabbed Nate’s aluminum bat, which was lying on the floor beside his bed, got into a batter’s crouch, and swung at the unusual section of wall with all her might.

  The force of the impact knocked the bat from her hands and rattled her whole body. She checked the spot where she’d hit the wall and found no indentation, only a slight rip in the Batman wallpaper. She dug her fingernails in and peeled it back.

  Behind the wallpaper, there was a layer of thick foam. She took out her Swiss army knife and cut into it. The foam was at least half an inch thick. She managed to pull back a chunk and feel what was underneath. It was some kind of metal. When she tapped it with her flashlight, it didn’t echo. Whatever it was, it was thick.

  Just then, Crowley walked into the room and turned on the light.

  “What’s going on, Locke? It sounded like you collapsed on the ground or something.”

  “Agent Crowley. I think I found out how Rainey got out,” she said, tapping on the metal again. “Unfortunately, we’re going to need a little help to get in there.”

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “If my hunch is right, it’s a panic room. And I’m guessing it has its own exit from the house.”

  “A panic room? Those things are impregnable.”

  “They are. Unless you know how to get in,” she said as she walked past him and headed for the stairwell. “And there’s someone here I think can help us with that.”

  She hurried down the stairs and turned into the kitchen, where she wasn’t surprised to find Carolyn Rainey staring right at her. Now Keri understood why the woman had given her that odd look earlier.

  “Mrs. Rainey,” Keri said, “you’re going to have to let one of the agents take over helping Nate with that jigsaw puzzle. We need to talk.”

  Carolyn Rainey whispered something in her son’s ear, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and motioned for the closest agent to take her seat. Then she got up wordlessly and followed Keri into the living room.

  “I need the access code to the panic room,” Keri said without any preamble.

  “I don’t know what your talki—”

  “Don’t waste my time, Mrs. Rainey. I want the location of the access panel and the code. Then you’re going to tell us where your husband went.”

  Carolyn Rainey stood there, her legs seemingly locked in place. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Clearly she was going through some internal struggle.

  “You may think you’re protecting Tim,” Keri said, forcing her tone several degrees softer, “but you’re not. You’re putting him at greater risk. Unless he’s had some sort of Special Forces training I’m unaware of, wherever he went, he’s at a distinct disadvantage.”

  “He has a gun,” Carolyn said. Winchester, who had just joined them, groaned. Carolyn Rainey looked at him with confusion on her face.

  “That’s not any more reassuring,” Keri said, answering her unasked question. “I guarantee you the person he’s after has one too and is more adept at using it. Let me help your husband. Whatever he’s doing is not going to get Jessica back. I hate to be blunt but this guy isn’t giving her back at any price. The only way we’re going to find her is through diligent investigative work. Your husband is putting your daughter and himself in greater danger with this stunt. Now tell me what I want to know.”

  Keri could see the dam break in Carolyn Rainey’s eyes before she spoke. A second later, it all came tumbling out.

  “The access panel is under a tile behind the towel rack in our bathroom. Just push it in and it will pop out and slide over to reveal the keypad. The code is 93#1576#.”

  Winchester, who had written down the code, leapt up the stairs three at a time. A swarm of agents followed him. Keri and Carolyn Rainey were left alone at the bottom of the stairs.

  “It won’t do you any good,” Rainey continued. “He’s long gone.”

  “That’s why you’re going to tell me everything,” Keri insisted. “The press statement—was it just a trick so the FBI would think he’d lost it and leave him alone in the room?”

  “That was just a side ben
efit. The truth is, when we got the last FedEx package, it also included a small phone with a note. It said to hide the phone and not mention it to the police. It said we’d receive a text message at some point and if we followed the instructions exactly, we could still get Jessica back for Tim to ‘purify’ her himself.”

  “You got the text tonight?”

  “Yes. It said to call a press conference and plead for her life. It wasn’t important what Tim said. He just had to make sure it was televised. Then the guy would know we’d gotten the message and were willing to meet. He said to meet exactly twenty minutes after the press conference ended.”

  “He’s gone,” Crowley shouted, emerging from the bedroom. “There’s a fireman’s pole in there that leads down to a hidden door at the back of the house. Winchester just slid down. He says there are fresh footprints in the grass outside.”

  Keri nodded and turned back to Carolyn.

  “Where did he go?” she whispered. “Tell me quickly so I can get a head start. It’s better if not everyone shows up at once with sirens blaring. It could set the guy off. I can go in quick and quiet.”

  Carolyn Rainey didn’t need convincing.

  “He said to meet at the basketball courts in Del Rey Lagoon Park, down at the corner of Pacific and Convoy.”

  “That’s less than a mile from here,” Keri said. It was also less than half a mile from her own apartment, and only a block from the beach. She had walked past the lagoon dozens of time in recent months.

  “Yes, but he had to get there on foot so twenty minutes wasn’t much time. That’s why he was in such a rush to get to the bedroom.”

  Okay, listen. I’m going to head out now. Give me a five-minute head start, and then tell Crowley what you told me. Got it?”

  “Please make sure he’s okay,” Carolyn Rainey pleaded.

  “I’ll do my best,” Keri said, making no promises.

  She headed for the front door and noticed Crowley eyeballing her quizzically.

  “I’m going to call the station and fill them in,” she called up to him. “Maybe there’s been a sighting.”

  He nodded, though he looked less than convinced. She wouldn’t have been either if another law enforcement officer had suddenly gone from aggressively interrogating someone to casually ambling off.

  When she got out the door, she walked to her car as quickly as she could without drawing suspicion. She doubted Carolyn Rainey would hold out long in the face of FBI questioning. The only advantages Keri had were her familiarity with the area and this brief head start.

  She’d be lucky to get there two minutes before the feds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  It took every ounce of restraint Keri had not to floor it once she was on the road. But that would have drawn suspicion from the FBI, local cops, and the media alike, so she cruised out of the neighborhood at the posted twenty-five miles per hour. It only took her three minutes to get to Del Rey Lagoon Park but every second felt like an hour.

  When she pulled up a block away from the dark, deserted park, she could tell that she was too late. Whatever had happened, it was over now.

  She could see a shadowy figure hunched over next to a rented white U-Haul van with its sliding door open, his silhouette visible in the van’s dim interior light. It looked like Tim Rainey. Somewhere near him she heard an awful mewing sound.

  She broke into a run, ignoring the icy burn in her throat as she sucked in the frigid night air. As she got closer she saw movement and realized he was alive. She slowed a bit, enough to pull out her weapon. When she reached him, she saw that he was on all fours and realized that the mewing was actually him wailing softly with what was left of his hoarse voice.

  She could see a blue duffel bag underneath his torso. It looked full and unopened. Next to his right hand, lying on the ground, was a handgun. She looked up, peering into the van. It was completely empty. She moved closer to Rainey and kicked the gun out of his reach.

  “Mr. Rainey,” she said, her eyes still searching the entire area, “it’s Detective Locke. Tell me what happened.”

  In the distance but growing louder she could hear the sound of multiple sirens. She glanced at her watch. She had only parked sixty seconds ago and guessed they’d be here in another sixty. Agent Crowley was impressive.

  “Tim,” she said, hoping the personal touch might reach him, “we’ve got a real situation on our hands. You snuck out under the FBI’s nose. You came here by yourself. And you have a gun. This could go very badly for you. I want to help. But we only have about forty-five seconds before this place is crawling with cops. So tell me what happened. Now!”

  That seemed to shake him out of his reverie. He looked up at her. His eyes were swollen from non-stop crying.

  “He said he’d give her to me. Just bring the money and we’d trade. He was so specific. He said she’d be in the U-Haul waiting for me. I was going to shoot him if he was there but I was worried I might hit her so I didn’t. And then, when I opened the door, I thought I was going to see her dead body. If I had, I would have used the gun on myself.”

  “But she wasn’t there?” Keri asked, choosing to skip over his last comment. “The van was empty?”

  “Except for this,” he said, holding out a plastic baggie with some kind of clothing inside. “It’s another piece of her shirt. It was just lying on the floor of the van.”

  He dropped the bag on the ground. Keri noticed writing on it. She took a step closer and saw, in thick, blocked lettering, one word: SINNER.

  She looked up. The sirens were much closer now and she thought she could see flashing lights breaking through the darkness only blocks away.

  “Did you see anyone at all?” she pleaded.

  “A few cars drove by. A few people came through the area. Most were walking dogs. There weren’t any guys by themselves. I’ve been here over an hour. After a while I realized he’s just been toying with me. He doesn’t want the money. He just wants to torture us. I’m never going to see my little girl again.”

  He put his head back down and resumed his hoarse mewing.

  Keri wanted to say something reassuring but feared he might be right. Instead, she focused on the job at hand.

  “Tim, listen closely. We’ve only got a few seconds. I need you to stand up.”

  He stayed where he was, on his hands and knees, his body protecting the duffel bag of money like it was his child. The sirens were deafening now and she could tell the vehicles would round the corner any moment.

  This guy’s gone. You’ve got to save him from himself.

  She moved quickly to Tim Rainey, put her hands under his armpits, and lifted him to his feet. He seemed oblivious. Then she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and used it pick up Tim’s gun. After checking the safety, she shoved it in the back of his waistband.

  The cars and their relentless flashing lights had rounded the corner. Everything around them was bathed in a wash of blue, red, and white, like they were in some outdoor disco. She could tell Tim wasn’t aware of any of it and, without stopping to think about it, she gave him a hard slap across the cheek.

  He stumbled for a moment but her action seemed to bring him back to the world. His puffy eyes cleared a bit and he looked directly at her. She could hear vehicles screeching to a halt and car doors being opened.

  “Listen to me, Tim. This is important. Don’t tell anyone else you pulled your gun. You could get in trouble for that. Just tell them what happened, minus the gun. It stayed in your waistband. You only brought it for protection. Do you understand?”

  He nodded vaguely. She reiterated the point.

  “These guys will forgive a lot for a guy in your situation: not mentioning the phone, sneaking out—they’re bad, but understandable. But if they think you’re an unhinged vigilante, they may have to take you into custody. And Carolyn and Nate need you right now, just like you need them. So no gun talk, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, seeming to get it. There were shouted voices, getting closer.
She couldn’t make out the words but the tone didn’t sound friendly.

  “Okay, Tim,” she said calmly, ignoring the voices and focusing all her attention on Rainey, “we both need to raise our hands above our heads now so they know we’re not a threat. I’m going to tell them you have a gun so they’re not surprised. Just let them take it and follow their orders. You got it?”

  “I got it,” he answered, raising his hands in unison with her. Her back was to the people running their way but she could hear them approaching and could tell they would be in earshot very soon.

  “Tim, I know things seem hopeless,” she said, loud enough for only him to hear. Their eyes were fixed on each other. “But I give you my word. I’m not done with this. I haven’t given up on finding Jessica.”

  He looked at her and opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. She knew she was making promises she might not be able to keep. But if it helped keep Timothy Rainey from killing himself, it was worth it.

  “I’m going to have to deal with these guys first,” she continued, referencing the agents whose footsteps were only yards away. “But I will keep looking for your daughter. Don’t give up. Don’t hurt yourself. Be a husband to Carolyn and a father to Nate. That’s your job. Promise me you’ll do your job.”

  The feds were on them now, swarming. But just before they forced Timothy Rainey to the ground and cuffed his hands behind his back, Keri was sure she saw him nod.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  An hour later, Keri sat on the stained loveseat in Lieutenant Hillman’s office, waiting, pretending everything was fine even though it most definitely was not. The door was closed so she couldn’t hear much. But she knew everyone in the bullpen was stealing glances at her so she kept her face impassive, hiding the churning anxiety she felt inside.

  A lot of what happened after the FBI arrived at the lagoon was a blur. She informed the agents that Rainey was armed and despite her protestations that he wasn’t a threat, they took him into custody. Crowley briefly had her handcuffed as well. She suspected it was mostly out of a sense of frustration and didn’t complain.