Keri Locke 03-A Trace of Vice Page 5

  Keri felt the heat rise in her cheeks and stared silently at her partner, stunned at his comment. Ray seemed to know immediately that he’d gone too far and was about to try to clean it up when the security guard called out from the computer room.

  “I’ve got something,” he yelled.

  “You are so lucky right now,” Keri hissed angrily, storming ahead of Ray, who gave her a wide berth.

  When they entered the computer room, the guard had the video footage cued up to 2:05 p.m. Sarah and Lanie were clearly visible sitting at a small table in the center of the dining area. They saw Lanie take a picture of her food with her phone, almost certainly part of the post Edgerton had found on Instagram.

  After about two minutes, a tall, dark-haired guy covered in tattoos approached them. He gave Lanie a long kiss and after a few more minutes of chatting, they all got up and left.

  The guard froze the image and turned to face Keri and Ray. Keri looked at the guard closely for the first time. He wore a nametag that read “Keith” and couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, with greasy, pimply skin and a hunched-over back that made him look like a scrawny Quasimodo. She pretended not to notice it as he spoke.

  “I got a few solid screen grabs of the guy’s face. I put them on digital files and I can send them to your phones too if you like.”

  Ray gave Keri a look that said “maybe this guy isn’t so incompetent after all” but shut it down when she glared back at him, still pissed about his “overreaction” remark.

  “That would be great,” he said, turning his attention back to the guard. “Were you able to track where they went?”

  “I was,” Keith said proudly and spun around to face the screen again. He switched to a different screen that showed the guy’s movements throughout the mall, as well as those of Sarah and Lanie. They culminated with them all getting into a Trans Am and leaving the parking lot, headed in a general northbound direction.

  “I tried to get the license plates on the car but all our cameras are mounted too high to see anything like that.”

  “That’s okay,” Keri said. “You did really well, Keith. I’m going to give you our cell numbers for those screen grabs. I’d also like you to send them to one of our colleagues at the station so he can run facial recognition.”

  “Of course,” Keith said. “I’ll do that right away. Also, I was wondering if I could ask a favor?”

  Keri and Ray exchanged skeptical glances but she nodded anyway. Keith continued hesitantly.

  “I’ve been planning to apply to the police academy. But I’ve held off because I don’t think I’m ready for the physical requirements yet. I was wondering if, when all this settles down, I could pick your brains for some suggestions on how to improve my chances of getting in and actually graduating?”

  “Is that all?” Keri asked, pulling out a business card out and handing it to him. “Call this pituitary case over here for the physical advice. You can call me when you need some help with the mental part of the job. And one more thing. If you have to wear a nametag for work, get one with your last name on it. It’s more intimidating.”

  Then she walked out, leaving Ray to mop up. He deserved it.

  Back out in the hall, she texted the screen grabs of the guy to both Joanie Hart and the Caldwells, asking if either recognized him. A moment later, Ray stepped out to join her. He looked sheepish.

  “Listen, Keri. I shouldn’t have said you were overreacting. Clearly there’s something going on here.”

  “Is that an apology? Because I didn’t hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ anywhere in there. And while we’re at it, haven’t there been enough cases that looked like nothing to everyone but me which turned out to be something for you to give me the benefit of the doubt?”

  “Yeah, but what about all the cases…?” he started to say, then thought better of it and stopped himself mid-sentence. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Keri replied, choosing to ignore the first part of his comment and focus on the second.

  Her phone buzzed and she looked down with anticipation. But instead of an email from the Collector, it was a text from Joanie Hart. It was brief and to the point: “never seen this guy.”

  She showed it to Ray, shaking her head at the depths of the woman’s apparent ambivalence toward her daughter’s well-being. Just then the phone rang. It was Mariela Caldwell.

  “Hi, Mrs. Caldwell. This is Detective Locke.”

  “Yes, Detective. Ed and I have been looking at the photos you sent. We’ve never seen that young man. But Sarah mentioned to me that Lanie said her boyfriend looked like he should be in a rock band. I wonder if this might be him?”

  “It’s quite possible,” Keri said. “Did Sarah ever mention a name of this boyfriend?”

  “She did. I’m pretty sure it was Dean. I don’t recall a last name. I don’t think she knew it either.”

  “Okay, thanks very much, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  “Is that helpful?” the woman asked in a hopeful, almost pleading voice.

  “It may very well be. I don’t have any new information for you yet. But I promise you, we’re focused hard on finding Sarah. I’ll try to update you as much as I can.”

  “Thank you, Detective. You know, I only realized after you left that you’re the same detective who found that missing surfer girl a few months ago. And I know that, well…with your daughter…” Her voice cracked and she stopped, clearly overcome with emotion.

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Caldwell,” Keri said, steeling herself so that she wouldn’t lose it.

  “I’m just so sorry about your little girl…”

  “Don’t worry about that right now. My focus is on finding your daughter. And I promise I’m going to put every ounce of energy I have into that. You just try to stay calm. Watch a crappy TV show, take a nap, do anything you can to stay sane. Meanwhile, we’re on this.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” Mariela Caldwell whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Keri hung up and looked at Ray, who wore a worried expression.

  “Don’t worry, partner,” she assured him. “I’m not going to lose it just yet. Now let’s find this girl.”

  “How do you propose we do that?”

  “I think it’s time we check in with Edgerton. He’s had long enough to review the data from the girls’ phones. And now we have a name for the guy in the food court—Dean. Maybe Lanie mentions him in one of her posts. Her mom may not know anything about him but I think that may be more due to lack of interest than Lanie hiding him.”

  As they walked through the mall toward the parking lot and Ray’s car, Keri called Edgerton and put him on speaker so Ray could hear too. Edgerton picked up after one ring.

  “Dean Chisolm,” he said, dispensing with any greeting.

  “What?”

  “The guy in the screen grabs you had sent to me is named Dean Chisolm. I didn’t even have to use facial recognition. He’s tagged in a bunch of the Joseph girl’s Facebook photos. He’s always wearing a cap pulled down or sunglasses like he’s trying to hide his identity. But he’s not very good at it. He always wears the same kind of black shirt and the tattoos are pretty distinctive.”

  “Good job, Kevin,” Keri said, once again impressed by their unit’s resident tech savant. “So what do you have on him?”

  “A decent amount. He’s got several drug arrests. Some are for possession, a couple for distribution, and one for being a courier. He did four months for that one.”

  “Sounds like a real solid citizen,” Ray muttered.

  “That’s not all. He’s also suspected of being involved in operating a sex ring using underage girls. But no one’s ever been able to pull him in on that.”

  Keri looked at Ray and saw something change in his expression. Until now, he’d clearly thought there was a more than solid chance that these girls were just out joyriding. But with the news about Dean, it was obvious that he had gone from mildly uneasy to full-on concerned.

  “What do we know
about this sex ring?” Keri asked.

  “It’s run by a charming-looking guy named Ernesto ‘Chiqy’ Ramirez.”

  “Chiqy?” Ray asked.

  “I think it might be a nickname—short for chiquito. It means tiny. And since this guy looks to be well over three hundred pounds, I’m guessing it’s a joke.”

  “Do you know where we can find Chiqy?” Keri asked, not amused.

  “Unfortunately, no. He has no known address. He mostly seems to bounce around abandoned warehouses, where he sets up pop-up brothels until they get raided. But I do have some good news.”

  “We’ll take anything we can get,” Ray said as they got into his car.

  “I have an address on Dean Chisolm. And it just so happens that it’s the exact location where the GPS on both girls’ phones shut off. I’m sending it to you now, along with a photo of Chiqy.”

  “Thanks, Kevin,” Keri said. “By the way, we may have found a mini-Kevin working as a security guard at the mall; very tech-savvy. He wants to be a cop. I might put him in touch with you if that’s cool.”

  “Sure. Like I always say, nerds of the world unite!”

  “Is that what you always say?” Keri teased.

  “I mostly think it,” he admitted, then hung up before they could give him any more crap.

  “You seem awfully centered for someone who just learned that the girls we’re looking for may be caught up in a sex trafficking ring,” Ray noted with surprise in his voice.

  “I’m trying to keep it light as long as I can,” Keri said. “I don’t think I’m going to have the chance for much longer. But don’t worry. When we find Chisolm, there’s a decent chance I may do some amateur tattoo removal using my Swiss Army knife. It’s nice and dull.”

  “Good to know you haven’t lost your edge,” Ray said.

  “Never.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Keri tried to keep her heart from beating out of her chest as she crouched behind a bush on the side of Dean Chisolm’s house. She forced herself to breathe slow and quiet, gripping her weapon in her hands as she waited for the uniformed officers to knock on the front door. Ray was in about the same spot as her on the other side of the house. There were two more officers in the back alley.

  Despite the cool weather, Keri felt a trickle of sweat running down her spine, just under her bulletproof vest, and tried to ignore it. It was after 7 p.m. and the temperature was in the high forties now, but she’d left her jacket in the car so she’d have greater range of motion. She could only imagine how sticky she’d be if she’d left it on.

  One of the officers rapped on the door, sending a jolt through her entire body. She bent a little lower to make sure no one peeking out a window could see her behind the bush. The movement caused a light twinge in her rib. She had broken several in an altercation with a child abductor two months ago. And while she was technically completely healed, certain positions still caused the rib to get grumpy.

  Someone opened the door and she forced herself to shut out the street noise and listen closely.

  “Are you Dean Chisolm?” she heard one of the officers ask. She could sense the nervousness in his voice and hoped whoever he was talking to couldn’t as well.

  “No. He’s not here right now,” a youngish but surprisingly confident-sounding voice answered.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m his brother, Sammy.”

  “How old are you Sammy?” the officer asked.

  “Sixteen.”

  “Are you armed, Sammy?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anyone else in the house, Sammy? Your parents maybe?”

  Sammy laughed at the question before getting control of himself.

  “I haven’t seen my parents in a long time,” he said derisively. “This is Dean’s house. He bought it with his own money.”

  Keri had put up with just about enough of this and stepped out from behind the bush. Sammy glanced in her direction just in time to see her holster her gun. She saw his eyes widen briefly despite his best efforts to act blasé.

  Sammy looked like a carbon copy of his big brother, complete with pale skin and multiple tattoos. His hair was black also but too curly to make spiky. Still, he wore the required punk uniform—black T-shirt, skinny jeans with an unnecessary chain hanging from them, and black work boots.

  “How did Dean manage to buy his own house at just twenty-four years old?” she asked without introducing herself.

  Sammy stared at her, trying to decide whether he could blow her off or not.

  “He’s a good businessman,” he answered with a tone that hinted at defiance without completely going there.

  “Business been good lately, Sammy?” she asked, moving a step forward, staying aggressive, hoping to keep the kid off balance.

  The two uniformed officers stepped down so there was no one between Keri and Sammy. She didn’t know if it was a conscious decision on their parts or them just wanting to get the hell out of the middle of the confrontation. Either way, she was happy to have the floor all to herself.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m just a lowly high school student, ma’am,” he said, sounding more brazen.

  “That’s not true, Samuel,” she charged, glad that she’d read the file on Chisolm that Edgerton had sent her while they drove to the house. She saw that using his given name startled him. “You dropped out last spring. You just told a lie to an LAPD detective. That’s not a great start to our relationship. Do you want to repair it?”

  “What do you want?” Sammy demanded, full of guarded petulance. He was off his game now, stepping out onto the stoop against his better judgment.

  He was oblivious as Ray quietly came out from around the other side of the house and set up position a few steps behind the boy. Keri stepped toward him to keep his attention on her. They were now less than four feet away from each other.

  “I want to know where Dean is,” she said, dropping the playful pretense. “And I want to know where the girls he brought over this afternoon are.”

  “I don’t know where he is. He left a few hours ago. And I don’t know anything about any girls.”

  Despite being a juvenile delinquent in training, Keri she knew that Sammy had never been arrested, much less served time. She could use his fear of the prospect to her advantage. She decided to go in for the kill.

  “You’re not being straight with me, Samuel. And I’m losing patience with you. We both know what business your brother is in. We both know how he can afford this house. And we both know that you’re not spending your free time working on getting your GED.”

  Sammy opened his mouth to protest but Keri held up her hand and barreled on without pausing.

  “I’m looking for two missing teenage girls out there. They were brought here by your brother. It’s my job to find them. If you help me do that, you can lead something close to a normal life. If you don’t, it’s going to go very badly for you. This is your one chance tonight to avoid getting put in the system. Cooperate or it’s down the rabbit hole.”

  Sammy stared at her, trying to keep his face untroubled. But his eyes were unnaturally fixed and his breath was shallow and quick. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. He was terrified.

  What Sammy didn’t know was that Keri didn’t have a warrant. If he’d just stayed inside the house and refused to speak to them, they wouldn’t have had much recourse other than to call for a warrant and wait outside until it was approved.

  But by stepping outside to engage with her and leaving the door open, he’d made himself vulnerable. He didn’t realize it yet but whether he agreed to help or not, they were getting in that house. His next decision really would determine his immediate future. Keri hoped he could tell she wasn’t bluffing. She hoped he’d choose wisely. He did not.

  “I don’t know anything,” he said, unaware that he was only sealing his own fate.

  Keri sighed. She almost felt sorry for him.

  “Did you hear that?” Ray asked.

>   Sammy, unaware that anyone was behind him, nearly jumped out of his boots.

  “What the…?” he started to say. Ray interrupted him.

  “Detective Locke, I think I heard some cries for help from inside. Can you hear them too?”

  “I think I can, Detective Sands. Officers, can you hear that too?”

  The two uniformed officers clearly couldn’t but didn’t want to be the weak links. They both nodded, and for good measure, the one who’d first knocked on the door added, “For sure.”

  Ray rolled his eyes at the clumsy effort but continued anyway.

  “Officers, can you handcuff Mr. Chisolm and put him in the back of your car for now while Detective Locke and I check out that crying?”

  “This is BS,” Sammy shouted as one of the officers grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around to cuff him. “You can’t hear anything. This is an illegal search.”

  “I’m afraid not, Sammy,” Ray said, unholstering his gun and preparing to enter the house. “Those cries we all hear create exigent circumstances. Maybe go to law school once you get that GED, buddy.”

  “You should have listened to me,” Keri whispered in Sammy’s ear before she walked up the steps and pulled out her gun. Ray nodded and they both entered with weapons raised.

  The place was a sty. There were empty beer cans everywhere. Fast food wrappers littered the stain-dotted carpet. Music was coming from somewhere in the back.

  Keri and Ray made their way through the house quickly. Neither of them expected to find much. The fact that it was devoid of people suggested that it had only been a staging area. Girls were likely brought here thinking they were attending a party only to be drugged and then moved en masse.

  Keri found the back bedroom where the relentless techno music was coming from and turned it off. She stepped into the adjoining bathroom and saw a pair of panties balled up beside the toilet.

  With a creeping anxiety, Keri returned to the bedroom and noticed something she’d missed before. There were three locks on the door. In addition to the standard one on the knob, there was both a deadbolt and a chain lock.

  “Hey, Ray, come back here,” she called out as she moved to get a closer look. The chain lock had lots of scuffs. It could have been her imagination, but Keri couldn’t help thinking all the markings were a result of it repeatedly being locked in a rush, by someone trying to prevent people from getting out easily.