by M. Z. Kelly
“Screw you,” Darby growled. “One more word, and...”
“One more word out of either of you, and you’re out of One.”
I turned, seeing our lieutenant was standing in the doorway.
Olivia went on. “Here’s how this goes. You two are partners now. That means you treat one another with respect. No backbiting, backstabbing, or back talking. This is my unit, my rules. You don’t like it, transfer out now. There won’t be another warning.” She turned, hearing Ellen Weber calling to her. “Be right there.” She then looked back at Charlie and Darby. “Any questions?” She got a couple head shakes. “Good.”
When she left again, I glanced over at Leo, who was smiling. Charlie and his new partner worked in silence for the next few minutes.
I was going through a backpack full of papers and books when I came across something written in the back of a notebook. “Anyone know what FTF stands for?” I asked.
“Friend To Friend,” Darby said. “It’s an app, used by a lot of kids to connect with friends and groups on the Internet. Users can register anonymously, without providing any personal information.”
“There’s a bunch of letters and symbols next to it. I think it could be a password.”
“Let’s go show it to the lieutenant, and the mayor and his wife,” Leo said. “Maybe the parents can tell us something.”
We went back to the patio room, where we found Olivia on the phone with one of Valerie’s friends. She asked several pointed questions, making it clear to our missing victim’s friend that failing to cooperate was not an option. After a brief conversation, she ended her call and looked over at us, raising her dark brows.
“We found something in a notebook that looks like a reference to an app called FTF,” I said. “It’s...”
Olivia interrupted me, looking at the mayor and his wife. “FTF is used by a lot of teens to anonymously exchange messages over the Internet. Did Olivia ever mention using it?”
“It’s also used by predators,” Darby said before they could respond.
If looks could kill, Olivia’s death-stare would have pierced Darby’s thick head with a couple lasers.
“Oh, God, what are trying to say?” Ellen Weber asked.
“We’re not saying anything.” Olivia glanced at Darby, making sure he got the message to keep quiet. She looked back at the Webers. “Did Olivia ever mention using this app?”
The mayor and his wife exchanged glances and shook their heads at the same time Olivia began working her phone. When she spoke, I could tell our new lieutenant had the department’s Computer Crimes Unit on the line.
“I’m going to give you what looks like a username and password for FTF,” Olivia said to whoever was on the line. “I need the IP address immediately.” She listened for a moment, then said. “I don’t won’t to hear that. If I don’t have an IP address, my next call will be to Chief Miles.”
After ending the call, Ellen Weber asked, “What do you think this means, our daughter having this app?”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions. It might not mean anything.”
Ten minutes later, Olivia’s phone rang, and we all knew that the app meant something very bad was happening. She listened for a minute, jotted down some information, then ended the call.
“Does the name Adrian mean anything to you?” she asked the Webers.
“I don’t think so,” the mayor said, looking at his wife. She confirmed what he’d said. “Who is this person?”
“I’m going to level with you because if I was Valerie’s parent, I would want to know. The IP address for Adrian comes back to a registered sex offender.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Olivia blasted down the street as I read her the background information Molly had sent to my phone about the man known as Adrian, aka Darrell Wayne Osgood.
“Osgood’s done time in the joint twice. The first time for a 288, the second for child abduction. The victim was thirteen, held for a week and sexually assaulted. He’s still on parole.”
Section 288 of the penal code made it a crime to commit a sexual act on a minor under the age of fourteen.
Olivia blew through a stop light as the others followed us. “Get his parole agent on the line. I want him there so we can search. Osgood’s going back to the joint for life, if I have anything to say about it.”
As it turned out, the address Osgood had registered with the local police was above a music store a block off Hollywood Boulevard. I’d managed to get ahold of his parole agent and we waited on the street for her as I showed Olivia and the others Osgood’s mug shot.
“He’s thirty-eight, five nine, one forty, brown and blue,” I said, giving them the details of our suspect. Bernie tugged on his leash, knowing something was up.
“He looks like your typical child molester,” Darby said. “A worthless POS.”
Olivia glanced at him, probably out of disapproval, but otherwise didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what a typical child molester looked like, but Osgood’s pock-marked face and glaring bloodshot eyes made me think Darby wasn’t far off base.
Five minutes later, Rose Meza, Osgood’s parole agent, arrived. We huddled on the street, where we explained our circumstances and asked Meza what she knew about her parolee.
“He lived with his parents for a couple of months after his release from Corcoran,” Meza told us, referencing the prison where he’d been incarcerated. The parole agent was about forty, slender, and armed. I’d worked with parole agents in the past and knew she had a nearly impossible job. Meza’s dark gaze moved down the street, taking in the music store. “He’s been here since July. There’s a back entrance off the alley, and one through the store. I’d suggest we cover the alley and go in through the store.”
“When’s the last time you met with him?” Olivia asked.
“About a month ago. Everything looked okay then, but a lot could have changed.” Meza sighed. “Too many cases, not enough agents.”
Olivia nodded. “Kate and Leo are with us. We’re going in through the store.” She looked at Charlie and Darby. “Cover the alley. Send me a text when you’re in place.” She gave them her cell number, before getting theirs.
Darby’s mouth came open, but nothing came out. I had the impression he was about to complain, but thought better of it.
Warren’s Music Store was a small establishment, sandwiched between a pawn shop and a small deli. The store was empty, and I had the impression we were the first customers of the day. The clerk looked up from his phone as we entered and must have recognized Meza or seen our weapons.
“He’s upstairs,” the clerk said, his eyes fixing on Bernie. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Stay put,” Meza said. “If any customers show up, tell them you’re closed and send them away.”
We made our way up a narrow stairway that was off a supply room, Bernie and me following behind the parole agent, Olivia, and Leo. We waited in a hallway as Meza knocked on the door and announced herself. “Parole agent, Mr. Osgood. I’m here for a routine check.”
There was no response, but I heard movement somewhere inside the apartment.
Meza announced herself again. Silence.
“Try the door,” Olivia said.
“Locked,” Meza said, after rattling the knob.
Olivia decided to take things into her own hands. “Mr. Osgood, this is the police. Open up, or we’ll break the door down.”
After getting nothing back, she had Leo use his big foot to breach the door. As the door swung open, we saw a man glance in our direction before heading for the back of the apartment.
Olivia called Charlie as we got to the rear of the apartment where there was a stairway. “He’s coming your way! Don’t let him leave!”
We were making our way onto the rear landing when Charlie called up to us. “He jumped over to the adjacent balcony and went into that apartment.”
THIRTY-SIX
By the time we made it into the alley and up the metal stairs to th
e next door balcony, a woman was screaming inside the apartment adjacent to Osgood’s.
“Where is he?” Olivia demanded, entering the apartment through the open door, with the rest of us on her heels.
“He go that way,” the woman said, with a heavy Spanish accent. “My baby, she is sleeping.”
We all rushed into the apartment, where we found an empty crib in the living room.
“He’s got the baby,” Meza said.
It was apparent Osgood had left through the front door to the apartment and had gone downstairs to the pawn shop with the baby. We scrambled down the stairs into the empty store, which was closed. From somewhere across the room, we heard the baby crying. I thought about releasing Bernie, but couldn’t risk the baby being harmed.
“You need to come out, now!” Olivia yelled as we took up positions behind a counter with our guns drawn. “We have the street blocked off.”
Her last statement was a bluff, something that Osgood decided to call. We heard glass breaking and saw movement at the front of the store as our suspect smashed his way through the shattered glass and out onto the street.
We followed behind as Leo called for patrol units to respond.
When we were on the sidewalk, Olivia said, “Let’s be careful, he’s still got the baby.”
We saw Osgood running up the street, rushing through heavy traffic with the child in his arms. He narrowly missed being hit by a truck that slammed on its brakes. We followed, trying to close the distance, but Osgood was already on the next block up by the time we made our way through traffic. I saw him moving toward a trash receptacle before a car stopped at the curb and he got in.
By the time we made it up the street, Osgood was gone. Charlie went over and retrieved the crying baby from the trash can. She looked none the worse for the harrowing episode.
“Let’s alert patrol,” Olivia said, trying to catch her breath. “He can’t be far away.”
We turned in time to see the baby’s mother coming up the street. She was also wailing as she took her crying child into her arms. I saw that the clerk from the music store had followed her.
The clerk came over to us, his voice frantic. “I was afraid to say anything earlier, but there’s a girl. I saw her with him last night.”
“Where?”
“In his room.”
We all rushed back to Osgood’s apartment, but found no sign of Valerie Weber. The flat was littered with trash and empty liquor bottles. Charlie had gone over to a wall in the living room, where he pulled back a curtain.
“Oh, my God,” Rose Meza said, seeing what he’d revealed.
There were over a half dozen pictures on the wall, all of them young girls. Most of them were naked, bound, and gagged. In the center of the display, I recognized Valerie Weber from the photograph her mother had shown us. She was nude and bound with a rope. Someone, probably Osgood, had written some numbers on her bare chest.
“I guess we know what the mayor’s daughter is worth,” Darby said.
I now had no doubt what had happened to Valerie Weber. The beautiful, intelligent young girl was going to be sold into sexual slavery.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The van was crowded and smelled rank. Valerie Weber pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. There were six other girls here, some of them crying. She had no idea where they were going. The man, the one who had taken her, had handed her and the other girls off to the man driving the van.
How could she have been so stupid? Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she was determined not to cry, even as the memory of what happened seeped back into her consciousness.
“You’re here to see Adrian, aren’t you?” the man had said to her.
Adrian, or the boy she thought she knew as Adrian, had exchanged texts with her, telling her he loved her. God, she’d been so clueless, but she’d never been in love before. The excitement of thinking Adrian, who was a high school senior, was in love with her had been overwhelming. She remembered also expressing her love to him. They were going to meet at the park down the street from her house, where the man had seen her.
“Is he here?” Valerie remembered asking him. “He promised to meet me tonight.”
The man had smiled, exposing jagged, yellow teeth. “He’s over there, where the cars are parked.” He waved a hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
She had hesitated, telling him, “I’ll wait here for him.”
“He’s in his car,” the man had said impatiently. “If you don’t come with me, he said he’ll have to go home because his parents are expecting him.”
She’d hesitated, then had taken a couple steps forward. “Okay.”
When she’d gotten to the parking lot, everything happened quickly. The man grabbed her, hit her in the face, hard, then put a pillowcase over her head.
He pushed her down into the back of his van. “Don’t say a word or you die,” he’d told her.
After that her hands were tied and she was in the van for a long time. They finally stopped, but he’d kept her blindfold in place and pushed her up a stairway.
When they got to his apartment, he removed the blindfold and said something that terrified her. “Take your clothes off.”
She remembering crying and telling him, “No, please don’t do this.”
When she’d refused to do as he said, he’d hit her over and over and ripped off her clothes. When she was naked, he’d laughed at her and started taking pictures.
Then he said something that had terrified her more than anything that had happened. “You’re going to bring a high price. Your daddy would be proud.”
Valerie slumped down as the van rumbled down the highway. While she was determined not to cry, she was so nervous that she felt sick to her stomach. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen to her or the others girls, but she knew it would be something bad.
THIRTY-EIGHT
It was after six by the time I left the station. Darrell Osgood had managed to slip away from us, despite much of Hollywood Boulevard and the surrounding areas being cordoned off by marked patrol units. We had no further leads on Valerie Weber’s whereabouts, and her parents were falling apart emotionally. Our new lieutenant had left the station about the same time I did, with the intention of updating and trying to console them. I decided it was further confirmation of my commitment never to seek promotion.
I was a couple blocks from home when I got a call from Natalie. “We need your help, Kate. Tex and Howie are about to be arrested for indecent exposure.”
“Are you kidding? Where are you?”
“Mo and me went for a stroll with the guys in Selma Park, and...” Her voice trailed off and I heard her saying to someone in the background, “You can’t take ‘em to jail. They was just doin’ an experiment.”
“Natalie, what’s going on?”
Her voice came back on the line. “It’s the coppers. They’re talkin’ ‘bout taking Tex and Howie to lockup.”
“Ask them to wait. I can be there in five minutes.”
I made a U-turn on Sunset and said to Bernie, who was eying me in the rearview mirror, “Why can’t we just have one nice quiet evening together?”
He stared at me as I imagined him saying, “You must be kidding.”
When we pulled up at Selma Park, I recognized the two uniformed officers from Hollywood Station. “Can I ask what’s happening here?”
Tom Welch, an officer I’d known for several years, answered. “I’m not really sure.” He looked at Tex and Howie. “All I know is that someone called in a complaint, saying these two were nude and glowing in the dark.”
While they were now wearing pants, both Tex and Howie were shirtless and indeed glowing. Their bodies were a shimmering green color. It looked like they’d been sprayed with a phosphorescent paint.
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked them, while Natalie and Mo stood by.
Tex answered, using his typical geek-speak. “Howie and I were able to isolate a genetic metabolit
e of jellyfish DNA, insert it into the Twerk, and then spray a phosphorescent enzyme on our skin to make it glow. Our research simulated Turkish scientific experiments that were able to create fluorescent bunny rabbits.”
“Just what the world needed,” Mo deadpanned, eyeballing their glowing bodies, as Officer Welch and his partner unsuccessfully tried to suppress their laughter. “We got us a couple of glow-in-the-dark nitwits.”
Natalie tried to defend them. “Tex said someday their research is gonna make ‘em a boatload of quid.”
“You don’t understand the importance of what we’ve done,” Howie said to Mo. While he was shirtless, I now realized he had a stethoscope around his neck. “Tex and I are on the verge of creating a whole new subspecies of Homo sapiens.”
Maybe it was the fact that Mo had almost been blown up by Tex and Howie a few days earlier that accounted for her complete lack of sympathy. “Yeah, and I got a name for your new species—Homo stupido.”
What she’d said caused everyone but the two glowing green men to burst out laughing.
“I won’t stand for these ad hominem attacks,” Howie said to Tex. He looked back at Mo. “Someday you will rue your words.”
I looked at Officer Welch. “I’m sorry about this, but I think they’re both pretty harmless. I’ll make sure they go home and keep their clothes on.”
Welch’s smile was still there. “Good enough.” He looked at Tex and Howie. “If anybody sees these two, they might think the little green men have arrived from Mars.”
After the officers left, and Howie got a ride home with a friend, Mo said, “At least he won’t need a flashlight to find his way ‘round.” She scratched her blue wig and looked at Tex and Natalie. “I just thought of somethin’. There just might be some use for this glow in the dark stuff, if you know what I mean.”
“We already tried it,” Natalie beamed. “Tex has parts that...”
“Arrggghh,” Mo said, covering her ears, “I don’t wanna hear it.” She looked at Natalie’s boyfriend. “You need to take your ‘parts’ somewhere else. Baby sis and me got stuff to talk about with Kate.”
