Of course, all the evidence in the world wouldn’t help if they couldn’t find him.
Miranda went back to the Mazda with Parker and drove around to the well-kept tin-roofed country homes and questioned the occupants.
No one had seen anything. The residents knew there was a movie shoot going on so they were used to hearing pops and bangs and zombie noises. The only one who had something to report was an elderly lady they found rocking on a porch across from the dirt road with the tire tracks.
Hours had passed since this morning, and the sun was beginning its descent, turning the sky a myriad of color and casting eerie shadows through the gnarled branches onto the fallen leaves along the pavement.
“They think I’m senile, but I’m not,” she told them, rocking back and forth. She stopped a moment and fixed her eye on Miranda. Then she raised a bony finger. “You know, don’t you, girlie?”
The remark surprised her. “I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”
“I can tell. You have the gift.”
Miranda swallowed. Was the woman talking about the strange sensations she always had when they were close to a lead on a case? How did she know about that?
The woman pulled a shawl around her and rocked again. “They say I’m crazy, but I know what’s what. The end is near. I can feel it. I can hear those creatures out there.”
Miranda let out a breath and glanced at Parker. This poor old lady thought the zombies were real.
“Thank you for your time, ma’am.” She turned to go.
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I saw them?”
Miranda turned back. “Saw who?”
“The man you’re looking for. The one in the jeep.”
Miranda stared at her. They hadn’t mentioned the jeep. Parker had only asked if she’d seen anything unusual.
The woman lifted her skinny finger again. “It came out right there. Right where that dirt path leads into those woods. Oh, those woods are full of strange creatures at night.”
“What else did you see?” Parker prompted.
“A man with dark hair was driving. Young man. He had a woman with him. He took off that way. He was driving like the wind.” She pointed down the road that led back to the main highway.
That was where the tire tracks had led. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“Did you happen to get the tag number?”
The woman shook her head. “No.”
It helped confirm what they already knew. Drew and Audrey had fled the area that morning at high speed. They weren’t holed up in any of the surrounding houses.
“Thank you for talking to us,” Miranda said again, and she started down the porch stairs.
“Missy?” the woman said.
“Yes?”
“Don’t you want the photo I took with my cell phone?”
“Cell phone?”
The woman pulled it out of her pocket and began to swipe the screen. “Here it is. Pretty clear shot, if I do say so myself. I used to be a photographer, you know.”
Miranda blinked at Parker, then came back up the stairs to get a look.
“May I?” She took the phone and showed it to Parker.
He nodded firmly.
The picture showed the tail of the camouflage-colored jeep racing away down the street. And part of the license plate was as clear as day. PQA52.
Drew didn’t bother to remove the plate from this vehicle. He was getting cocky. But at last it was something they could use. If enough people recognized this plate, they might have Drew and Audrey in custody tomorrow.
“Can I send this to my phone?” she asked.
The old woman grinned up at her with a knowing look in her eyes. “Of course, you can. Anything for the girl with the gift.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Miranda passed the photo with the partial plate on to Erskine, and the lieutenant put out a BOLO and released the information to the news stations.
She was standing on the street next to Parker staring into the forest when Holloway strolled up, his suit coat slung over his shoulder. His upper arm was wrapped in a thick white bandage.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him.
“I’m fine,” he scoffed. “It stopped bleeding hours ago. The medic on set confirmed it was superficial. She smeared some antiseptic on it and told me to watch for infection. She even gave me a tetanus shot. Happy?”
Not hardly. Watch for infection and watch his back. Miranda was debating whether to give him some time off when her cell rang.
She dug it out of her pocket. It was Fry. She spoke to him for less than a minute and hung up.
She turned to Parker. “Fry’s got results. He didn’t want to give them to me over the phone. He wants us back in the lab.”
Parker scowled at Fry’s attitude, but he nodded. “Let’s go.”
The three of them headed back to their cars and raced up the interstate to the office.
If racing was the word for fighting through a heavy Monday afternoon rush hour on the interstate. Fumes from the eighteen-wheeler rolling noisily beside the Mazda was making Miranda nauseated. And the F-150 in front of them blocked her view.
She glanced out the window and spotted Holloway’s white-and-black Mini Cooper with the red racing stripe two lanes over and three car lengths ahead. “I hope he doesn’t beat us there,” she murmured under her breath.
She heard Parker exhale audibly.
“Let’s try a surface street.” He took the exit onto Piedmont and headed north.
Traffic was a little better here, and they whizzed along at forty-five mph.
They passed the bank building where the first shooting had taken place last Friday, and made it back to the office a few minutes later. There weren’t many cars outside. It was the end of the work day and most everyone had gone home.
Miranda saw Holloway’s Mini Cooper pulling into the lot just as she and Parker slipped through the back entrance.
Ten minutes later, they met Becker in the lab area where the test tubes and microscopes were.
Becker leaned over his laptop. “They’re here,” he told Fry through a communication screen.
Miranda turned to the sealed room marked “Authorized Personnel Only.”
Fry didn’t come out of the room.
After another minute passed, she took a step toward the entrance. She was about to pound on it and tell Fry to knock off the dramatics when the door flew open and the lab tech emerged from the decontamination room in a bright yellow hazmat suit.
Suddenly concerned she stared at him. “What was in that bottle, Fry? Are we going to have to lock down the office?”
He removed the headgear and his chocolate brown hair tumbled to his shoulders. She noted his beard had grown an inch since she’d last seen him. He must have given up trimming it during his vacation.
He gave her his usual cynical smirk. “You’re lucky you didn’t find the real stuff.”
“Real stuff? What are you talking about?”
He held up the amber bottle. “This is an antidote.”
“Antidote for what?”
“That’s what I had to figure out,” he said with a self-satisfied smile. “I had to reverse engineer the substance. I performed a microscopic examination, the requisite chromotographical and spectrometry tests. There are a few other substances in the liquid, but it’s primarily made of physostigmine.”
“Physo-what?”
“Phy-so-stig-mine,” he said slowly as if talking to a child. “It’s an acetylcholinesterase inhibitor used to treat overdoses of scopolamine.”
Miranda dug her palms into her temples. Why couldn’t Fry speak English? Then she saw the stunned look on Parker’s face.
“Scopolamine?” he said darkly.
Fry nodded. “Yes, sir. As far as I can determine this bottle contains some sort of antidote for it.”
Miranda racked her brain for her training on street drugs and came up empty. “Scopolamine? What is th
at?”
“A hypnotic drug,” Fry said. “A substance from plants of the nightshade family. It’s rumored to be used in South America by criminals. They give targets a drink laced with the substance, take them to an ATM and get them to empty their bank accounts. The victim wakes up the next day and doesn’t remember anything about it.”
“So it’s a mind-control drug.”
“Precisely. But there were a few other substances mixed with this antidote. My guess is the victim would be given some admixture of hallucinogenics along with it. Ingesting it would make the subject highly suggestible. In short, it produces zombie brain.”
Holloway looked pale as a ghost. “Are you saying someone who was given that stuff could be made to do anything?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Are you sure, Fry?” Parker asked.
Fry’s shoulders went stiff under the yellow suit. “Per procedure, I tested multiple samples, sir. All results were the same. The substance is definitely toxic, but two or three drops would reverse the effects of the hypnotics, in my opinion. My guess is the kidnapper is using this to protect himself.”
From the effects of his own drugs. “But he doesn’t have it any more.”
Fry lifted a shoulder. “He can probably get more, or he has a stash of it somewhere. That’s what I’d do—if I were into that sort of thing.”
Miranda reached for the back of a chair to steady herself as her mind reeled with what Fry had said. Zombie brain? Suddenly it all made sense. The shootings at the bank. The spike strips. The attempt to shoot Holloway on the movie set today. Drew Iwasaki was using a mind-control substance on Audrey, while he stayed safe with his antidote.
He’d turned her into a real-life zombie.
Did he get it from some of his gang affiliations? And why was he targeting Audrey? Why did he want her to shoot Holloway? And where did they go from here with this investigation?
Becker stepped over to Fry to get a better look at the amber bottle, though he kept his hands at his side. As he stared at it, his stomach rumbled.
His cheeks reddened. “Sorry. We skipped lunch.”
“I’ll have dinner brought in,” Parker said mostly to break the mood of shock in the room.
Miranda didn’t want to eat, but they hadn’t had anything since early that morning and she was starting to feel dizzy. It was no good working with hungry detectives, and she had to get her wits about her to figure out what to do with this new information.
Becker cleared his throat. “Can we have pizza, sir? I’d like to bring one home to Joanie and the kids.”
He was always so thoughtful.
Parker’s kind smile told her he was glad to be reminded of the simple pleasures of family life.
“Of course.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Erskine was still sending in crime stopper calls, and Parker’s auxiliary team was working after hours, so Parker treated them to pizza as well.
They gathered in the break room while Miranda, Becker and Holloway took their food back to the cube area of the lab.
While they munched on pepperoni and Miranda loaded her slice with extra jalapeños, Becker watched the news from the tablet he’d set up on the counter. A serious-looking newswoman gave the report.
“Another incident occurred this morning involving the woman who attempted to rob South Exchange Bank on Friday. This time on the set of Echoes of the Dead, a new movie being filmed south of the city.” She mentioned the camouflage-colored jeep and read off the partial plate while the screen flashed the photo the lady across the street had taken.
Becker wiped pizza sauce off his face. “Looks like the newshounds have already pounced on the information you found.”
Miranda stared at the tablet. Would it help find Audrey? Or just drive the pair deeper into hiding?
“I’ve been running the partial tag number through the database. No hits yet.”
She knew that. Parker had retired to his office to keep an eye on the run, and to leave her in charge of everyone. It was too much to hope that the tag number was registered to Iwasaki. The jeep was likely to have been stolen, but if someone saw Drew and Audrey in it, maybe they could narrow down their location.
Miranda pushed her plate away and started to think out loud. “So we can assume Drew is using a chemical concoction to control Audrey.”
“It looks that way to me,” Becker said, his mouth full of pizza. He swallowed down a gulp of soda. “This afternoon, I mapped out all the places we know they’ve been. The local ones.”
“Let me see.”
Becker wiped his hands on a napkin and went to the counter to fiddle with his tablet. He did some magic swiping, and a map of the area appeared with each location marked with a red dot.
Miranda studied it a moment. The bank in Buckhead. The spot where the van was found in Avondale Estates. The deserted shopping center where they found the homeless girl’s toe. The movie set at the quarry.
With some imagination, the dots seemed to form a rough circle. “Maybe he’s going to strike again in Buckhead next.”
“Here? At the office?” Becker’s eyes went round with alarm.
“We’ll be ready for him,” Holloway said darkly.
Things began to click. She turned to Holloway. “You have the number Audrey used to call you last night, don’t you?”
He nodded and pulled out his phone.
“Let me see it.” She peered at the number on his screen. “That’s not the same phone we traced to the shopping mall.”
“They probably change phones every day. This number probably won’t work.”
“But if it does, we could use it to draw her out again.”
Becker didn’t like that idea. “If she’s under the influence of those drugs, she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
He was right. It was Iwasaki who was calling the shots.
Becker blew out a breath of irritation. “I still can’t believe Drew Iwasaki is using that drug on Audrey. And protecting himself from the effects with the antidote. A twenty-six-year-old gangbanger wouldn’t be able to come up with something like that on his own.”
Holloway opened his mouth wide and turned to Becker. “Drew—Iwasaki? Twenty-six-year-old gangbanger? How do you know that?”
Becker let out a squeaking sound as he looked at Miranda. “You didn’t tell him?”
She hadn’t wanted to set him off. Becker had promised not to say anything. Apparently he’d forgotten that.
She turned to Holloway. “Becker found a record on Drew Saturday night. His last name is Iwasaki. He’s involved in gang activity and was arrested in Los Angeles County two years ago. He’s been arrested several times, but never convicted.”
Miranda watched Holloway’s chest heave as he took in the information. “And you didn’t tell me this?”
“No, I didn’t.” She didn’t have to explain her reasons to him.
He got to his feet and tossed down his napkin. “I need some air.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
And he stomped out of the lab and slammed the door behind him.
Miranda shut her eyes and shuddered, forcing down the anger. She didn’t need this now. If Audrey was a victim of mind-control, if Iwasaki was feeding her drugs to make her shoot at people, they needed to find her fast. But if that were true, that meant Iwasaki wanted Holloway dead. That didn’t make any sense at all. Who was this guy?
She turned to Becker. “Have you got any more information on Iwasaki?”
Becker shook his head. “After his last arrest, his record is clean.”
“Or someone wiped it for him. He’s connected.”
“Looks that way.”
But to who? Or what?
She got up and began putting away the pizza leftovers.
“Sorry about talking too much,” Becker said.
“It’s okay,” she said wearily. “He’d find out sooner or later and react the same way. Here. You can take these
home to Fanuzzi and the kids,” she said over her shoulder.
“I don’t think that will be anytime soon.”
She looked up and saw Becker wasn’t next to her. He was standing at the door, peering out at the cubes in the main area. Miranda stepped over to see for herself.
The place was a beehive. Erskine’s press release was drawing in a ton of new calls. It was just as well. They needed something to do. And if she put Holloway to work, maybe he’d get over his mad.
“I’d better go find our AWOL investigator.”
And she handed Becker the pizza box and stepped past him through the door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Feeling like a complete failure as a boss, Miranda went down the hall scanning the aisles and peering into dark offices. She passed the water cooler and the break room without seeing a trace of her errant detective.
If he’d gone home, it might be for the best.
Then she took a turn and spotted light coming from one of the offices. Gen’s. Was she still here? And was Holloway in there with her?
The last thing she wanted was to get in the middle of a love spat, but at least she’d know where he was.
Her stomach tightening, she approached the door. She stood outside and listened. No voices. It was dead silent.
She waited a moment, then stuck her head inside. No one here.
A lightweight sweater hung from the back of Gen’s chair. Behind it a shelf of business books stood as straight as soldiers. In the corner of her desk Gen’s closed laptop had been placed just so. In the other corner was a framed photo of Sylvia, Parker’s late wife.
But in the middle of the desk lay a legal pad. It was turned over with a pen across it, disturbing the perfect alignment of the rest of the things.
Overcome with curiosity, Miranda tiptoed around the desk and turned the pad over for a peek.
Gen had drawn a straight line down the middle of the page, making two columns. The column on the left was titled, “Breakup with Curt.” The other was titled, “Don’t Breakup with Curt.” The column on the left had a long list. “Not returning my calls.” “Not returning my texts.” “Won’t talk to me.” “Chases after ex-wife.”
Mind Bender Page 15
