Keri Locke 03-A Trace of Vice Page 7

  “Not your competence, Jamie,” Keri said, trying not to giggle at how easily she’d manipulated her. “I just doubt the competence of our friends down at county jail. They may need someone willing to be forceful. I think you’re just the gal for the job.”

  “Any advice?”

  Keri’s phone rang and she looked down to see that it was Mariela Caldwell. She motioned for Ray to take over giving Castillo hints on how to navigate the bureaucratic maze that was the Twin Towers Correctional Facility as she stepped away to answer the call.

  “Hi, Mrs. Caldwell. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out to you yet,” she said apologetically.

  “I understand,” the woman said, obviously trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “I just wanted to check in to see if you had any news.”

  “Of course. Things have been moving so quickly that I just haven’t had much time.”

  She paused for a moment, not sure how to proceed with what she knew from personal experience would be devastating information.

  “Detective?” came the worried voice on the other end of the line.

  Keri decided there was no easy way to break the news and decided to just be straight with the woman.

  “Mrs. Caldwell, I’m just going to be honest with you. The news isn’t great. Your daughter was abducted. It looks like Lanie’s boyfriend was working for a guy who operates a sex trafficking ring. He took them to a house where this guy and his crew were waiting.”

  Keri heard Mrs. Caldwell muffle a sob and then the voice of her husband softly comforting her. She ignored it and plowed through, not wanting to draw this out any longer than necessary.

  “The girls were taken to a warehouse in the Valley where they were kept before being moved again. We know Sarah was there because we found a ripped piece of the top she was wearing. I believe she left it there as a clue for us.”

  Keri intentionally skipped over what had been happening at the warehouse and the fact that the piece of clothing was found partially hidden under a mattress.

  Edward Caldwell’s strained voice came on the line and Keri realized she had been on speakerphone.

  “Do you know where she was moved to?” he asked quietly.

  “Not yet. Our tech team is working on that now, using camera footage to track the vehicle the girls were transported in. But I have to warn you, it’s a painstaking process and may take a while.”

  “You said it’s a sex trafficking ring,” Mariela Caldwell said. “Does that mean that she’s already been…hurt?”

  “There’s no way to know that for sure, Mrs. Caldwell. But you should prepare yourself for that likelihood. I’m sorry to be so blunt. But you deserve to know.”

  “Thank you for being honest with us,” Edward Caldwell said, his voice cracking slightly.

  “I wanted to let you know where we are now in the investigation. But I don’t want to call you with constant updates that don’t really give you any meaningful new information. Please know that when I learn something substantial, I’ll get in touch. But it may be several hours. I know it may be impossible, but you should both try to get a little sleep if you can.”

  “We’ll try,” he said and they all knew he was lying.

  Keri felt her phone buzz. She had a new email.

  “I’ve got to go now. I’ll reach out when I have something,” she said to the Caldwells, then hung up and clicked on the new message. She didn’t recognize the sender. It took her a second to realize that it was the handle for the Collector.

  She felt her legs start to give out and just managed to stumble over to an unoccupied nearby desk and half-sit on it. Her hands were trembling as she tried to open the email. Her finger shook so much that it took three tries to hit the screen properly. When she finally did, the message she found was short and to the point.

  l.a. live. go to lobby bar of marriott. Ask for package for jones. Follow instructions in package. 30 minutes. just you. no decoys. confirm.

  Without a second thought, Keri replied, “Confirmed.” Then she sat there on the edge of the desk, half-dazed with shock, unmoving despite her tight time deadline.

  She looked over at Ray and Suarez talking Castillo through what she had to do at the Twin Towers. They were teasing her about whether she was up to the task and she was taking the bait. Ray glanced over at Keri with a broad smile on his face. She tried to return it but he immediately knew something was wrong.

  “You got this?” he asked Suarez, and getting a nod of confirmation, he walked over to Keri. “What is it?”

  She gulped hard before lifting her index finger to her lips, indicating he shouldn’t say any more. She stood up, made sure her legs were working properly, then motioned for him to follow her outside.

  “Just how many bugs do you think Jackson Cave has in that place?” Ray asked when they stepped out into the chilly night air.

  “Enough to be extra careful,” Keri said, pulling out her phone and showing him the email. Ray read it and looked up at her, concerned.

  “A half hour from now? That’s going to be tough.”

  “Why? I’ll just use the siren,” Keri said as they walked to her car.

  “Yeah. But it’s going to be crazy once you get down there. There’s a big Lakers game against the Spurs tonight across the street at Staples Center. It’ll probably end about ten p.m., right around the time you’re supposed to meet him. Thousands of people will be coming out of the arena and heading to bars right near where you’ll be.”

  “That must be his plan,” Keri said. “The more crowded it is, the more control he has. And if things go sideways, he can just slip away amid that huge mass of people. I guess I better hurry then.”

  “I?” Ray asked. “Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

  “No, Ray. This has got to just be me.”

  “Why?” he demanded as he reached for the passenger door handle of her car. She held up her hand to stop him and pointed silently at her steering wheel, where they’d discovered the listening device weeks ago. Ray walked over to her and stood close as she spoke.

  “The last time I tried this, he got skittish and bailed. He said it was because I sent a decoy but I don’t know if that’s true. Maybe he saw Castillo covering me from the rooftop. Maybe he’s just a jumpy guy. But this is my last chance. You know if he gets spooked again, he’ll dump that email address and I’ll never find him again. And that means I’ll never find Evie. I can’t risk that. So I’m doing it his way.”

  “But what if he recognizes you? He knows who you are.”

  “That’s why I always keep a disguise in my trunk,” she said, popping it and pulling out her bag of supplies. “I’ve got a wig, glasses, a cap, even fake teeth. I’m just a client looking to have a co-worker eliminated. Remember? He’ll buy it. And if he doesn’t, I’ll take him down and beat the answers out of him.”

  “I don’t like this,” Ray said. But his tone was full of resignation. He knew he’d already lost the argument.

  “I know, partner. But this is the way it has to be. I’ve been waiting five years to meet this guy face to face. I’m not going to blow it. Besides, there’s nothing we can do on the Caldwell front until Edgerton finds out where that brown van went. And now I’ve only got twenty-six minutes to get down there. I’ve got to go.”

  She started to open the door but before she could, Ray grabbed her and pulled her into a tight bear hug.

  “Be careful, Tink,” he whispered.

  “I will, Snuffleupagus,” she whispered back. Then she stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  With adrenaline pumping through her system, Keri finally pulled off the freeway. Her eyes darted back and forth between the road and the clock on her dashboard as she swerved in and out of the thick traffic on the exit ramp, eventually using the shoulder to get past the long line of unmoving cars.

  Ray was right. Even with her siren blaring, it had been tough
to get downtown to the massive L.A. Live entertainment complex by 10 p.m. By the time Keri pulled up in front of the JW Marriott on West Olympic Boulevard, it was already 9:58. She parked in a spot marked “loading/unloading only.” As a valet walked over to chastise her, she flashed her badge and told him to make sure no one touched the car.

  Then she hurried into the hotel, past the check-in desk to the large lobby bar in the central atrium area. As she arrived, she glanced at her watch: 10:01 p.m. Hopefully the Collector wasn’t too much of a stickler for promptness.

  She got the attention of the bartender, who walked over far too casually for Keri’s taste.

  “You just beat the rush,” she said. “The Lakers game just ended. This place will be swarming in five minutes. What can I get you?”

  “I’m picking up a package for Jones,” Keri said, trying not to sound too desperate.

  “Oh yeah, just hold on a second,” the bartender said and walked over to the cash register to retrieve it.

  While she waited, Keri glanced at herself in the huge mirror that ran the entire stretch of the bar. She was nearly unrecognizable, with a shoulder-length brunette wig, pink-framed glasses that covered half her face, fake teeth that gave her a serious overbite, and a weathered, black baseball cap that read “you should see the other guy.” She hoped she was unrecognizable and that the cap would make the Collector let his guard down a bit.

  The bartender returned with a paper Starbucks bag with the word “Jones” written on the front in black Sharpie. Keri looked inside and saw a note, along with a different baseball cap. She pulled both out.

  The cap was a gaudy, rainbow-colored number with the words “University of Hawaii” plastered across it. It would definitely stick out among all the Lakers and Spurs caps everyone else was wearing.

  She looked at the note, which was written in block letters. It read “put this on. go outside and sit on bench across from starbucks. wait.”

  Keri looked up at the bartender, who had a curious expression her face.

  “I hope he’s worth it,” she said, “because that hat is ugly.”

  “What did the guy who dropped it off look like?” Keri asked excitedly.

  “I don’t know. It was left here before my shift started. The guy I replaced just said someone named Jones would come looking for it around now.”

  “Thanks,” Keri said, switching out her own cap for the rainbow one. “Can I leave this bag with you for a few minutes?”

  She held out the bag and the bartender shrugged and took it. Keri figured that if the Collector didn’t show, maybe CSU could pull some DNA off the bag.

  She looked at her watch: 10:03.

  Time to go. Stay cool, Keri. This is it.

  But as she walked out the rear exit of the hotel and made her way to the Starbucks across the courtyard, she felt her heart almost beating out of her chest. She was positive the Collector was watching her and allowed her nervousness to show. A regular person about to hire someone to abduct a co-worker would be nervous with all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. She played it up, shuffling her feet and awkwardly adjusting her glasses as she walked.

  She saw an unoccupied bench across from the Starbucks and made her way to it, weaving her way in and out of the basketball fans in team jerseys. She noticed the people wearing the Spurs jerseys were hooting and hollering more than those wearing Lakers gear and assumed the visiting team must have won.

  She sat down and, realizing there was nothing else to do, waited.

  It was the first moment she’d really had to be still and breathe since she’d gotten the email. Involuntarily, thoughts of Evie flooded her brain. Memories of her as a young child unwrapping Christmas presents gave way to images of her as a baby in her crib, flailing her arms and legs happily at the mobile above her playing “Rock-a-bye Baby.”

  The thought that she might see her precious daughter again soon was almost too overwhelming to process and she forced the hope from her head.

  Stay focused. This isn’t the time to daydream. You’ve got a job to do. He could show up any moment.

  And right then, he did.

  Before she realized what had happened, a man dressed in a black sweater and blue jeans sat down beside her. She glanced over and realized it was him. He was wearing a wig too, one with thick black hair. He wore dark sunglasses that seemed ridiculous considering the hour.

  But she knew it was him because of the tattoo. Other than his blond hair, her one enduring memory of the man who took her daughter was the long tattoo that snaked down the right side of his neck. She saw it now, peeking out from under the sweater as he sat to the left of her.

  “Jones?” he asked under his breath.

  She nodded, hesitant to speak right away. He didn’t seem to recognize her but she’d been on the news recently after rescuing a girl and he might know her voice.

  “You’re looking for an independent contractor to deal with an infestation problem?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered in as low a vocal register as she could muster.

  “Follow me,” he said and stood up. Keri got up and tried to keep pace as he wended his way effortlessly through the crowd. He was clearly used to this.

  Eventually, he got to a point where the throng thinned out, at the corner of Olympic and Francisco Street, near the entrance of one of the complex’s underground parking lots. A sign indicated it was full and there were several roped stanchions blocking any cars from entering.

  Leaning against the concrete barrier separating the walkway from the garage ramp, he turned to face her full on for the first time.

  “I assume you are the client and not another substitute?” he asked, referring to their prior failed meeting in Santa Monica six weeks ago.

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said, “I was trying to be careful. I guess I overdid it.”

  “You’re lucky. Most people only get one chance,” he said in a neutral tone. His eyes, hidden behind the sunglasses, were impossible to read.

  “Thank you,” she said, not wanting to rock the boat.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “Oh, okay,” she started, trying to sound hesitant. “Well, I work at—”

  “No specifics yet—for both our protection. Just give me the big picture.”

  “Right. Okay. Well, I have a co-worker. He’s a real asshole. Not only does he come to work drunk half the time. He steals my ideas. He’s verbally abusive. And he’s handsy.”

  “That sounds like half the offices in America,” the Collector said. Apparently, in addition to being a child abductor, he was a social critic too. “Why do you want to take such drastic action?”

  “We’re both up for the same promotion. If he gets it, he’ll be my direct supervisor. I can’t have that. But I need this job. It pays decent. I’m divorced, a single mother, and I didn’t finish college. There’s no way I can go somewhere else and earn what I do there. But I can’t be around this guy every day until I retire. I’ll shoot myself.”

  He stared at her silently for a moment. With the sunglasses on, she couldn’t tell if he was suspicious or buying her story. She’d worked hard on it and it sounded convincing to her. But maybe there was a flaw she hadn’t considered. Or maybe her voice, despite her best efforts to mask it, was starting to sound familiar to him.

  Suddenly the bulletproof vest she wore felt shockingly heavy. Her gun, sitting in the interior chest pocket of her jacket to hide the bulge, pressed uncomfortably against breastbone. She felt twitchy and it required all of her willpower not to let it show. Finally he responded.

  “How are you going to pay for my services if your budget is so tight?”

  She was ready for this one and allowed herself to relax slightly. She realized she’d been holding her breath until now.

  “My father passed away a few months ago and left me a little money. It’s not enough to retire on. But I figured that if… I invested it properly, it would be well worth it.”

  “How much was it?�
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  “Are we negotiating now?” she asked, and immediately realized it was a mistake. She sounded too confident, too sure of herself for a mousy office drone dealing with a jerk co-worker. She saw him stiffen slightly and knew he’d picked up on it too. She tried to fix it.

  “Sorry if that’s a weird question. It’s just…it’s not like buying a house. There aren’t any articles on the Internet for how to negotiate…this kind of thing. You know what I mean?”

  “I know,” he said slowly.

  “Good. I guess I just don’t know the protocol yet.”

  “No. You misunderstand me. I know,” he repeated.

  “You know what?”

  “I know it’s you, Keri.”

  She froze. Time seemed to almost stand still as his lips curled into a cruel smile. All her years of training seemed to evaporate in a moment. She felt helpless.

  No! You are not helpless. You became a cop for this moment. This is what you wanted. This is how you get your daughter back. So do it.

  Despite the pit of bile rising in her throat, Keri forced herself to remain calm and respond.

  “I think you’re confused. I know we’re not supposed to get into specifics. But my name is Emily.”

  “You really had me going,” he said, ignoring her protestation. “The wig is cheap. But the glasses are a nice touch. And the teeth—fantastic.”

  Keri thought quickly as he spoke. Her jacket was only half-zipped but there was no way she’d be able to get her gun out before he made a move. One hand was already in his jeans pocket and she imagined that it might have a knife, maybe the same one he’d used to stab that teenager to death in the parking lot all those years ago.

  She could tell he was itching to move and decided that her best bet was to give up the charade, anything that would change the dynamic and keep him from running or coming at her.

  “Your wig isn’t too great either,” she said, allowing him to hear her real voice for the first time. “Not as memorable as those blond locks.”

  He smiled at the comment, clearly happy that everything was out in the open now.

  “I’m impressed that you found me. But you know it’s not going to help you find Evie. You know it all ends for you tonight. You do know that, right?”