Mind Bender

by Linsey Lanier

  So that was what he was upset about. Drew took a swallow of beer. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” Phineas screeched. “Have you read the files we were sent? These people aren’t pushovers.”

  “Yes, I read the files.” He knew about more than just the detective he was supposed to target. “I know Wade Parker is supposed to be the sharpest PI in the southeast. And Miranda Steele has faced down a slew of psychotic killers. But she has a weak spot. Her ex husband.”

  “She killed him.”

  “And she’s seeing a therapist because of it.”

  Stubbornly Phineas shook his head. “All you were supposed to do was get the girl to call her ex, and when he showed up at the bank, get her to shoot him dead. Then disappear. No media coverage. No other detectives. No freaking car chase.”

  “Steele and Parker were supposed to be on vacation. I made sure of that. I called the office and pretended to be a client. The receptionist told me the investigators wouldn’t be available for another week. I don’t know how they got there, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t stop us.” He couldn’t help cackling over it. “You should have been there at the bank.”

  Phineas stared at him a long moment, then slid his arms on the counter and leaned forward with a geeky grin. “Did she really try to shoot him?”

  Drew nodded with pride. “Right after I gave her the signal behind the knee. And used the elixir.”

  “It knew it would work. All due to the precise management of dopamine and serotonin levels plus specialized conditioning techniques.”

  Drew snickered. “And when we were driving away in the van, all I had to do was give her a command and she went to the back and tossed out that spike strip I brought along. It was heavy, but she managed it. You should have seen those cops and what it did to that Lamborghini.”

  “I did see it. It’s on the news.” Phineas pointed to his laptop.

  “That was the easy part. I still can’t believe she got the detective to show up at the bank in the first place.”

  “He’s a rescuer type,” Phineas’s voice took on that expert tone of his. “Ex-Marine and all. And he’s remained unmarried after their divorce. Statics show sixty-four percent of males who remain unattached after a break-up still have feelings for their former wives.”

  Statistics. “Yeah, but next time we’ll need to give our experiment some target practice. She missed by a mile.”

  Phineas grew quiet. Drew could see fear on his pimply face.

  He shook his head. “You made a mess of it. And then you go to the airport and get yourself and the girl caught on the security camera?”

  “That was part of my plan.”

  Phineas shook his hands in the air. “And that obituary in the Georgetown paper? What were you thinking?”

  Drew lifted a finger from his beer bottle. “Thinking ahead.”

  Phineas just stared at him.

  “It was a red herring. Meant to misdirect, confuse. Get it?” For a genius he sure could be dense sometimes.

  “Like the photo at the airport?” Phineas sneered.

  “The photo I let them get of me and the girl. It worked. It got the detectives off our trail. They went straight off to Austin, just like I said they would.”

  “But now they’re back.”

  “Following my lead.” He had to chuckle again at his own cleverness. He’d show his great-uncle who the genius here was. “By the way, Experiment One is gone.”

  “The girl you picked up on the street? What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  Drew shrugged. “She bled out after the toe thing.”

  He chuckled to himself as he remembered her trying to hack off her own toe with a steak knife after a session in the chair. Drew had made her think she was giving herself a pedicure. Damn, he was good.

  Of course, she passed out before she finished. He’d whacked off the rest with his pocket knife, then put it in a bag and hidden it in his jacket for his own use later. That was even more brilliant. He wondered what kind of circles the police and the detectives were running around in now.

  Phineas slammed his palm down on the counter. “I cauterized it myself.”

  He was worried about losing her? He raised his palms. “Didn’t work.”

  “You didn’t watch her?”

  “I was too busy with Experiment Two.” He waggled his brows. The detective’s ex was a hot one under the influence of the elixir.

  “And now we have a dead body to dispose of?”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  “No, you have to think of something. You have to fix this, Drew.”

  He chuckled. “I’m having too much fun.”

  “What if that toe leads them to us? What if they find us?”

  “Never happen.”

  “And I don’t have to tell you what will happen if Our Benefactor doesn’t get what he wants. He’ll shut down this facility. My dream. My life’s work.”

  “Life’s work? You’re a kid.”

  Phineas began to mutter to himself. “Because of my grandfather, he’ll probably spare me, but it won’t be that way for you.”

  His smile gone, Drew put down his bottle and glared through Phineas’s thick glasses. Why wasn’t he listening? He’d already worked it all out.

  “Don’t worry, Phin. We’re going to Plan B.”

  “Plan B?” Phin’s thin brows shot up over his glasses. “What do you mean by that? You’re not going to let her out again, are you? She’s wanted by the police.”

  Smirking to himself Drew finished his beer, sauntered over to a nearby trashcan, tossed the bottle in. “I’m going to let her go back to work.”

  “To the movie set?”

  “Don’t worry. The producer will keep an eye on her. My guys have been supplying him with recreational drugs for years. He owes me.”

  “Drew—”

  “I’ve got it all worked out. This time, we’re going to get that ex-Marine. Just listen.” And he slid back onto the stool and began to explain everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next day was a downer.

  Miranda dragged herself into the office that morning to discover Parker had brought in a small team of background checkers and bodyguards to work for OT on Sunday. They were set up in the main cube area, already busy on their laptops and phones. Miranda recognized Bill Taylor and Amir Khan from her IIT class. She didn’t know the others.

  Hoping Parker didn’t want her to take charge of them, too, she zipped down the aisle and headed for the lab. There she found Holloway and Becker hunched over their laptops.

  From the look on Holloway’s face Becker hadn’t shared the intel he’d learned about Drew Iwasaki last night.

  She was grateful for that.

  The smell of strong coffee made her mouth water. Turning her head she saw another round of bagels spread out along the counter. Apparently Becker had brought enough for everyone. The new team had devoured the fare, leaving crumbs and empty boxes and open containers of cream cheese in their wake.

  Miranda glanced at the time on her phone. Nine-forty-five. She put a hand on her hip and turned to Holloway. “You weren’t supposed to come in until ten.”

  “I slept as long as I could, Steele,” he said without looking up from his screen.

  He did look a little better. His clothes were fresh and his hair was combed. But dark circles lingered under his eyes.

  Beside him Becker looked concerned but he didn’t say anything.

  “Anything promising yet?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  Giving up on conversation, Miranda got her laptop and set up next to the bagels on the counter. She began by reviewing the progress the others had made, going through the transcripts from calls coming in to the police from the public.

  It was hours of tedious work that led nowhere. One caller was convinced the mystery man in the photo on the news was her ex-boyfriend, but one of the bodyguards had called her mother and discovered the boyf
riend was Irish and had red hair. Not even a vague match.

  A dozen people said they had seen the couple getting out of the white van and running across a field together. Most of them mentioned a location different from where the van had actually been found. Nobody could say where the couple had gone. One guy said the woman in the photo of Audrey was his ex-wife. An old lady insisted she was her daughter, a woman one of the background checkers confirmed had passed away a year ago.

  The time ticked by. Parker had sandwiches brought in for lunch, and Miranda ate hers alone in her office, letting the others enjoy a few moments of camaraderie with their peers. She used to be one of them and she missed it. Lonely at the top.

  But it was Audrey Wilson’s situation that consumed her thoughts. They were getting nowhere and time might be running out for Holloway’s ex. The guy in black named Drew Iwasaki might be hacking her to pieces at this very moment and there was nothing she could do about it.

  At the unpleasant thought, she put her sandwich away and got back to work.

  The afternoon dragged on with little progress. Shortly before six, Erskine called and asked for her.

  Surprised he didn’t want to speak to Parker, she took the call.

  He told her his people had traced the print from the toe she’d found yesterday to hospital records at Grady. The victim’s name was Rebecca Duncan, born twenty-six years ago. After more investigation, they discovered Rebecca Duncan was homeless and had no living relatives. As far as Erskine’s officers could ascertain, she’d been living under the Jackson Street Bridge for the last two years. They were interviewing the street people there to find out if anyone had seen the man in the police photos named Drew. Good luck with that.

  Jackson Street Bridge. While Erskine filled her in on more details, she took her phone and did a search. South of the Old Fourth Ward. About three miles from the shopping center.

  Didn’t tell them much.

  Miranda told the lieutenant what Becker had discovered about the man named Drew Iwasaki last night and said she’d forward the information to him.

  Erskine thanked her and hung up.

  Homeless girl. Twenty-six. Probably an addict. The gangbanger Drew Iwasaki had picked her up off the street and done God-knows-what with her. They might find a body soon.

  She didn’t know what she’d do with Holloway then.

  She went back to her laptop in the lab and worked for a few more hours. Just when she could take no more, Becker’s phone beeped.

  He jumped and the phone slid to the floor.

  “Sorry,” he said, scooping it up. “Text,” he explained.

  He must be talking to Fanuzzi. Holloway had gone down the hall for a break a few minutes ago.

  Suddenly Becker leapt from his chair. “Oh my gosh. Look at this, Steele.” He held the phone out to her. It wasn’t from Fanuzzi.

  She read the text and frowned. “Meg Ryan.”

  Hopping from foot to foot, Becker began to scroll through the conversation he’d been having. “After what you learned in Austin yesterday, I resent my requests to the local movie production companies, telling them the person we were looking for started last week and might be using a different name.”

  “Different name?”

  “I thought if she wanted folks to think she was dead she might be using an alias.”

  “That was smart.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, this company replied. We found her. We found Meg Ryan.”

  Confused, Miranda scratched at her hair. “Meg Ryan? Is she playing the lead in Audrey’s movie?” And was Audrey really in a movie?

  Becker shook his head. “Audrey’s going under the name of Meg Ryan.”

  Miranda recalled Kenisha Trevino said they used to watch Meg Ryan movies together. Audrey loved the actress. But taking her name?

  “How can she do that?”

  “It’s a stage name or something. She only used it for initial registration, not for payroll or anything official. Apparently it’s a trick extras use to get noticed. The studio gets their extras from Ad-Lib Casting. They cross-referenced the registration list of new hires from Ad-Lib with their payroll and got a match. Here.” He handed her the phone again.

  Now she took the time to read the entire conversation.

  Apparently Audrey Agnes Wilson had been registered with Ad-Lib Casting under the name Meg Ryan, and was hired out as a non-union extra to Film Mania Studios last Tuesday for their current project.

  Miranda wrinkled her nose. “Echoes of the Dead? A horror movie?” She might have known that was the type of job Audrey would have landed.

  “That’s the working title. It’s a zombie movie.”

  “Like that TV show they film here?

  “No. This is something else. It’s a made-for-TV thing.”

  She read the short description. Something about a young boy waking up in a post-apocalyptic world and having to fight off hordes of the undead to survive. Original. She squinted at the name. “Who’s Taylor Anthony Jones?”

  “The fifteen-year-old star. The latest heart-throb. Callie’s crazy about him.”

  “Really?” In her opinion, Fanuzzi’s daughter was too young to be swooning over boys. She returned to the text and read the most important information. “Audrey’s got a six a.m. call time tomorrow morning. Is she going to be there?” How could she if she were being held by a crazy toe-hacker?

  Becker raised his palms. “Only one way to find out.”

  Right. She highlighted the text messages and forwarded them to her own phone.

  Bright and early tomorrow morning, she and Parker would be there. Might be best not to let Erskine in on this just yet. A police presence would spook Audrey for sure and they’d just have another chase on their hands.

  And then there was that other issue.

  Craning her neck, Miranda peered through the door and down the hall. No one in sight.

  “Becker, can you keep this between us for now?”

  “You mean you don’t want Curt to know?”

  “I don’t think he can handle it. You didn’t tell him what you found on Drew Iwasaki last night did you?”

  Becker shook his head. “No. I was waiting for you to make that call.”

  “Good.” If Holloway knew about Iwasaki’s gang background, he’d have a breakdown. “It’ll be better if Parker and I confront our fugitive tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Sure, thing. Whatever you say, Steele.”

  She still didn’t like being in charge, but she appreciated that Becker wasn’t the type to make waves. He, at least, was loyal. “Promise me you won’t say anything to Holloway.”

  Nodding, Becker did a key-locking gesture on the side of his mouth. “Mum’s the word.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Curt Holloway unlocked the door to his one-bedroom apartment and stepped inside. He hadn’t wanted to go home yet tonight, but Steele had forced him out of the office at eight and there was nothing else to do.

  He stood in the middle of his living room, his mind a blank.

  Dirty clothes were strewn across the back of the couch. Unwashed dishes sat in the sink of his kitchen. His trashcans needed emptying.

  He was falling apart.

  He laughed softly to himself. Audrey would have had a fit if she could see this place. She’d always fussed at him when he left things lying around. His time in the Marines had made him perpetually neat, but every once in a while he’d lapse. No lapsing allowed in Audrey’s world.

  He remembered getting into a shouting match with her about it once. Actually, several times.

  He went into the bedroom hung up his coat and changed into sweats and a T-shirt. He got the laundry basket and went back into the living room to pick up his clothes.

  Sudden pain engulfed his heart. He dropped the basket and sank down onto the couch. Where was she? Where was his wife? What was that guy named Drew doing to her?

  Steele had told him the director at the Civic in Austin and giv
en her the guy’s first name. If he knew his last name, he’d be searching for him in the crime databases.

  He couldn’t stop his thoughts. And the investigation was almost at a standstill. He knew Steele had kept him busy with office work to keep him distracted today. If only somebody had gotten a lead.

  He felt so helpless.

  At least Mr. Parker had told him what Erskine had learned. The toe Steele found yesterday at the shopping mall wasn’t Audrey’s. That was some comfort. But it had belonged to some homeless girl. Were they both being held by this Drew character?

  Steele said there would be more calls to go through tomorrow. He didn’t want to go through calls. He wanted to find Audrey.

  She was somewhere in Atlanta, but Atlanta was a big place.

  Keep busy. Maybe Steele was right. He got up and picked up the basket again.

  But what if this investigation dragged on and went cold? What if they never found her?

  He was about to take the basket down to the laundry room when his cell buzzed. He dropped the clothes and pulled it out of his pocket.

  It was a text from Gen. We have to talk.

  Yeah, they did. But he didn’t know what to say. Gen didn’t get what he was going through, and there was no way he could make her. He couldn’t deal with her right now.

  He was shoving the phone back into his pocket when it rang. Let it go to voicemail, he thought. But he glanced at the number.

  He didn’t recognize it. He decided to answer.

  “Hello?” he said cautiously.

  “Hey, hon.” Her voice seemed to flood the whole room.

  A stab of pain shot through Holloway’s chest.

  It was Audrey.

  His mind raced as his training came back to him. Low key. Don’t upset her. Don’t let on what you know.

  “Hey, baby. What’s going on?”

  “Oh, Curt. Did I tell you I was in a movie?” Her voice sounded strange. As if she didn’t really know what she was doing. Was that guy holding a gun on her? Play along.

  “A movie? Really? You got a part in a movie?”

  “We’re shooting tomorrow morning. I have a six a.m. call time. They said I can have a guest. I’d love for you to come by and watch. I want to talk to you.”