A Trace of Crime Page 7

  “Got to respect the process.”

  “Yes, that’s true. The process is very important, which is why the pace of that investigation may need to be…escalated. I know your Lieutenant Hillman went to bat for you in your hearing. And I understand that Chief Beecher is still gaga over her prized detective, the one who rescued young Ashley Penn, who foiled the cruel machinations of Dr. Jeremy Burlingame, and who saved Sarah Caldwell from a Mexican brothel. But Detective, you’re not the only one with connections high up in the LAPD.”

  “You don’t say? Who are you paying off these days, Cave?” Keri asked casually, despite sensing that he was about to drop the hammer he’d been holding back.

  “I would never pay anyone, Detective,” he replied, mock offended. “And I’m not just saying that because I know you turned on the recorder on your phone the second you realized it was me behind you.”

  Keri involuntarily looked down at the pocket where her phone rested and mentally kicked herself for it. He continued, either not noticing or not caring.

  “What I am saying is that your time has come, Detective Locke. The days of you skating by without consequences for your actions are coming to an end. I’ve got my eye on you. I think you know that. So whether it’s for breaking into Brian Wickwire’s apartment, stealing a thumb drive from my office, or murdering a helpless man suffering from a head injury, you will face justice. Things are about to get very bad for you.”

  Despite feeling the urge to puke, Keri refused to allow even a beat of silence to pass between them for fear of giving him the upper hand.

  “You know, if a person didn’t know any better, they’d think you were just a little bit scared. Is that what’s going on? Is Jacky a scaredy-cat?”

  Cave didn’t reply, instead giving her his thinnest smile before turning around and returning to his car. He opened the door and was just getting in when he added one last thing.

  “Be seeing you,” he said before slamming the door, starting the car, and pulling out onto the deserted boulevard.

  Keri waited until his taillights had rounded a curve before sitting down herself. Despite a temperature in the low fifties, she was sweating. She pulled off her hoodie, closed the door, and took in several gulps of air. She realized she’d been holding her breath.

  She turned off the recorder on her phone and sat silently in the car for a few minutes, allowing her body to regain equilibrium. It was almost too much to process. Jackson Cave had known she was here and had come to confront her.

  She didn’t bother to worry about how he’d known. He might have had cameras set up, sensors put in the apartment, or found a new way to bug her phone or put a tracker on her car. He’d done both in the past, though she couldn’t prove it was him.

  What worried her more were his threats. She really had done all those things he’d alleged—breaking into an apartment, stealing data from his office, killing a man who was no longer a threat to her, purely for vengeance.

  Can he prove any of that? Does he really have connections high up in the force?

  She was almost certain the latter was true. And with his connections, financial resources, and malicious intent, he stood a more than reasonable chance of getting her fired, and potentially incarcerated.

  Those things were true. But then she remembered something else that was true.

  He’s not the only one with cards to play. And he knows it.

  Why else would Jackson Cave show up to try and intimidate her in the middle of the night? She’d hit a nerve. He really was scared.

  After all, while she had committed crimes of her own, so had he. He was a crucial cog in, if not the leader of, a sex slave ring. He was involved in multiple child abductions and the sale of those children. He consorted with kidnappers and if her suspicions were correct, maybe even an assassin.

  She couldn’t prove any of that without exposing her own violations of law. But all of it was true. And he knew Keri was on to all of it. He was terrified that she had found something in Wickwire’s apartment that could link him to untold crimes. He was worried that she was sitting on something that could bring him down.

  And he had no idea if she’d shared that information with others or put it in a safety deposit box. And until he knew that, he couldn’t risk having her killed. He had to destroy her reputation so that any allegation she made against him would seem desperate and pathetic.

  He was good at hiding it but Jackson Cave was scared.

  Keri thoughts were interrupted by her ringing phone. She glanced at the clock in the car. It was 2:44 a.m. Who would be calling at this hour? She took out the phone. It was Ray. She answered immediately.

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk until morning. Have a change of heart?” she asked.

  “We have a lead,” he said, ignoring her question. “One of Jessica’s friends woke up in the middle of the night and remembered something. She said Jessica told her about being followed by someone in a black van a few weeks ago.”

  “Why do all the child abductors have to drive vans?” Keri asked. “I mean, don’t they know it’s a cliché?”

  “Keri, do you want to crack inappropriate jokes or do you want to meet me at the station in twenty minutes so we can go question this girl?”

  “Make it thirty and I’m there.”

  “Why so long?” he asked. “Are you not at your apartment?”

  “I’ll explain later. See you at the station,” she said and hung up before he could ask anything else.

  *

  Keri drove them from the station to the girl’s house. She preferred it because she could focus on the road rather than sitting awkwardly in the passenger seat wondering if it was safe to bring up their conversation from this morning, or technically, yesterday morning.

  Ray hadn’t asked her about her middle-of-the-night location and it occurred to her that he might think she had been with someone. She wasn’t sure how to disavow him of that notion without getting into a topic he clearly didn’t want to discuss. It was around the moment when she decided to just let it lie that she heard herself speak.

  “I wasn’t at some guy’s place when you called, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Unable to pull the words back, she kept her eyes focused on the road and pretended she hadn’t said anything at all.

  “What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  Change the subject, Keri. Or better yet, just keep your damn mouth shut.

  “I’m just saying that if you thought the reason I was evasive on the phone earlier was because I was sleeping with some guy who lived more than twenty minutes away from the station, I wasn’t.”

  “Keri, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” he answered, surprisingly measured. “I know you’re a little punchy but—”

  “I just wanted you to know,” she said, knowing every word was digging her deeper.

  “It’s not my business what you do. We’re not…you don’t owe me…I really don’t want to talk about this right now. We’re in the middle of a case for chrissakes. Can we just focus on that and deal with this later?”

  “Yes,” Keri agreed, finally managing to get a handle on herself. “I won’t bring it up again. You’re right. Lack of sleep is messing with me. Besides, I think we’re here.”

  She pulled up next to house in a less ostentatious but still impressive section of the Playa del Rey at Falmouth Avenue and Cabora Drive. It was almost 3:30 a.m. as they walked up to the front but they could see several lights were on.

  Ray knocked quietly in case some people inside were still sleeping. After just a few seconds, a thirty-something man in a robe opened the door. His hair was mussed and his face had hints of stubble but his eyes were wide and clear. He’d obviously been fully awake for a while.

  “Detectives Locke and Sands?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Ray said.

  “Please come in. I’m Evan Coombs. My daughter Cate is in the kitchen with my wife. We have twin daughters still sleeping upstairs, so if you can keep your v
oices down, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” Keri said as Evan Coombs led them quickly to the back of the house. When they got to the kitchen she saw Mrs. Coombs, also in a robe, putting a few mini-marshmallows in the mug of a blonde girl wearing Wonder Woman pajamas. The girl was absently watching an episode of some animated show on the small TV on the counter. Keri wondered if she’d have recognized the show if Evie was still around.

  The mom looked up, saw them, and walked over. Despite the hour and the robe, she looked moderately put together. Her hair was up in a loose bun and she had the forcefully composed expression of someone who’d spent much of the night keeping her child from losing it.

  “Hi, I’m Cindy Coombs,” she said, extending the hand not holding a coffee cup. “Cate was pretty upset before but she’s calmed down. I think she’s ready to talk. We told her there’s nothing to be scared of. So if you could reinforce that, it would be helpful.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Coombs,” Keri assured her. “We’ll be very sensitive. May I go sit next to her?”

  “Please. Let me turn off the TV.”

  Mrs. Coombs walked over to Cate, put a hand on her shoulder, and quietly spoke to her, saying something Keri couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Cate turned immediately away from the set as her mom turned it off. Other than the fearful look on her face, she looked like a perfectly normal, well-adjusted twelve-year old girl.

  “Hi, Cate,” Keri said. “I’m Detective Locke and this is my partner, Detective Sands. But you can call us Keri and Ray. May we join you?”

  Cate nodded hesitantly, her hazel eyes full of apprehension.

  “Is that hot chocolate?” Keri asked.

  Cate nodded.

  “I love the mini-marshmallows,” Ray noted, pointing at them. “The problem with the big ones is you have to try to sip around them and stuff spills on you. Has that ever happened to you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, obviously impressed. “That’s why I always go with the minis.”

  “Smart move,” Ray said. “So Cate, is it okay if we ask you a few questions about what you told your folks?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, so why don’t you just start by telling us what you told your mom and dad, about Jessica and the van.”

  “Okay,” Cate said hesitantly. “Well, I don’t remember exactly when it was, definitely before winter break though. But we were having lunch in the picnic area on campus and this van went by. Jessica pointed it out and said that it reminded her of something creepy that had happened the day before with a different van.”

  “What was that?” Keri asked.

  “She said she was biking home and when she turned onto Manitoba, it got behind her and followed her all the way almost to where she usually meets up with her mom. When she pulled into a driveway and stopped, it finally drove away.”

  “But it wasn’t the same van you all saw at lunch?” Ray reconfirmed.

  “No. That one was red. She said the one that followed her was black and had gold writing on the side. But it drove by so fast she couldn’t read it. It was in cursive.”

  “Okay, that’s really helpful, Cate. Did she say if she got a look at the driver?” Keri asked.

  “She just said it was a guy. But she didn’t say what he looked like.” Her expression suggested she thought she was letting them down.

  “This is all great,” Ray said reassuringly. “Is there anything else that you can remember? Did she ever mention it again after that?”

  “No. She never said anything else. But she seemed really scared when she talked about it that one time.”

  “And you say it was before winter break,” Keri prompted. “Do you remember if it was after Thanksgiving?”

  “I think so. Yeah, it was. And it was warm enough to sit outside. Does that help? Can you go back and check the weather from that time?” she asked hopefully.

  “We absolutely can,” Keri said. “That’s an especially great detail to remember. It will really help us narrow it down.”

  As she spoke, Ray looked over at her and she could tell he had come to the same conclusion she had. They had likely tapped Cate Coombs for all the information she had. She nodded at him.

  “Okay, listen, Cate,” he said, standing up. “You’ve been a great help. Jessica is really lucky to have a friend like you. I think we have everything we need for now. But if you remember anything else, please tell your folks and they’ll call us. Sound good?”

  Cate looked up at Ray, who towered over her. But Keri could tell that she found his size comforting rather than intimidating.

  “Is Jess going to be okay?” she asked him.

  He bent down next to her and gave her his warmest smile, the one that never failed to melt Keri’s heart.

  “We’re going to work super hard to find her. And when we do, we’re going to tell her she owes you a big thank-you hug.”

  Cate nodded, satisfied if not completely convinced.

  As they left the house and headed back to Keri’s car, Ray looked at his watch.

  “Just after four a.m.,” he noted, “you think it’s too early to go back to the Raineys and ask them about this?”

  Keri looked at him and her expression must have been revealing because he didn’t wait for her answer.

  “You don’t think we’d be waking them up, huh?”

  “No, Ray. I guarantee you neither of them has slept a moment tonight. Dreaming is worse.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Keri was right. After they had passed through the police barriers and parked in front of the house, they spoke to an officer in a car outside who said that Tim Rainey had come out multiple times to talk to him and that the last visit was only twenty minutes earlier.

  Rather than knock or ring the bell, Ray texted him saying they were outside and asking if they could come in. The door opened less than fifteen seconds later and from his shortness of breath and panicked look, they could tell he feared the worst.

  “We don’t have bad news, Mr. Rainey,” Keri said immediately. “As far as we know, nothing has changed with Jessica. We’re just here to ask a few more questions we think might be helpful.”

  Rainey seemed to breathe again and motioned them in. He trudged to the kitchen, leaving them to shut the door.

  “Is your wife awake?” Ray asked. “We think she might be helpful too.”

  “She’s upstairs in bed with Nate,” Rainey said, his voice thin and scratchy from crying and exhaustion. “He wouldn’t stop asking for his sister. I’ll go get her. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want.”

  Keri and Ray sat silently at the breakfast table, waiting for the Raineys to come down. Neither wanted to discuss the case for fear of saying something they didn’t want overheard. And casual conversation was out of the question for any number of reasons.

  After a few minutes, they heard the creak of stairs and soon both Tim and Carolyn Rainey were sitting across the table from them, each staring at them with red, bleary eyes. Keri wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, so she just dived in.

  “Did Jessica ever mention a van following her, maybe around the second week in December?”

  On the way over, she had checked the weather for December and found that there was only one stretch of three days when the temperature had risen to the unseasonably warm high 60s.

  “No, I definitely would have remembered that,” Carolyn said. “I would have told you right away. Did she say anything to you, Tim?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Ray answered. “A friend of hers, Cate Coombs, said that Jessica told her a van followed her one day from school to just before where she usually meets up with you, Mrs. Rainey. But apparently it was a one-time thing because she never mentioned it again.”

  “No, she never said anything,” Carolyn Rainey reiterated. “But she might not have. I think she worried that if she said anything like that, I wouldn’t let her bike alone anymore, which is true. Did Cate say anything else?”<
br />
  “She said Jessica told her it was a black van with gold, cursive lettering,” Keri said.

  The color drained from Carolyn Rainey’s face.

  “What is it?” Keri asked.

  “I think I know the van she’s talking about. Back in late October, around Halloween, I had just finished showering and come out into the bedroom when I thought I saw movement through the blinds right outside the window. I screamed and rushed over. When I got there, I couldn’t see anyone.

  “But when I went downstairs, I saw some guy loading a ladder into a van across the street. It was black and had cursive gold lettering on the side. Our neighbors had some work done on their awning and the van had been parked there all morning. I didn’t give it a second thought until then. But when I saw the guy with the ladder, I was suspicious.”

  “Did you call the police or talk to your neighbor?” Ray asked.

  “No. I started to think I might have imagined the whole thing. But I kept an eye out. And the guy stayed there for another hour, doing work on the awning. He didn’t act guilty or rush. He just seemed to be doing the work. Then he left and I didn’t think about it again until now. Do you think it could be related?”

  “Hard to say. What’s your neighbor’s name?” Ray asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

  “Marcy Price.”

  “I know it’s early, but would you mind going over to Marcy’s to see if she has the contact info for the construction company?”

  “No need. Before all that happened, she gave me a card for them because I was thinking of redoing our back porch in the spring.”

  She got up and walked over to an old-fashioned Rolodex on the kitchen counter. Within seconds she had found it and handed it over. In gold, cursive lettering, it read Salter Home Improvement.

  “Can we hold on to this?” Ray asked.

  “Yes,” Carolyn Rainey said, obviously letting herself start to hope. “Do you think this could be him?”