Becoming Quinn

by Brett Battles

  “Not according to this.”

  “Thanks.”

  Andrews hung up without saying anything more.

  Not on duty last night? Then where the hell was she?

  A boyfriend? Not that Jake knew of, and she certainly would have told him. Maybe she went to visit someone. But that didn’t explain why she wasn’t answering her cell phone, especially since she had specifically told him she was going to call him back after she checked out the BMW.

  The nagging little voice suddenly wasn’t so quiet anymore.

  The BMW.

  Oh, God.

  He quickly accessed her voice message again and listened to it. She had found the BMW at an impound yard, but she hadn’t said which one. Dammit. The only thing he could do was locate it himself.

  At the fourth yard he called, the man on the other end said, “Well, we did have it.”

  “What do you mean, ‘did’?”

  “Got stolen last night.”

  Jake’s mouth went dry. “Are you serious?”

  “Officer, I don’t have time to jerk you around.”

  “Sorry.” Jake paused. “I might come by…just to take a look around.”

  “Sure. What’s one more?”

  “Thanks.”

  It wasn’t until Jake hung up that the last thing the man said struck him as odd. But when he pulled into the impound parking lot, he saw what the man had meant. Parked up front were three patrol cars. If they had been from the same substation as his, Jake would have pulled right back out of the lot, but they weren’t, so the chances of him knowing any of the officers were slim.

  Still, as he walked up to the office, he formulated a story he could use in case he ran into anyone he knew. He kept it simple—a friend’s missing car that he offered to check on. The fact that these lies were coming more and more easily was something he tried not to think about. Thankfully, when he stepped inside, he saw the lie would be unnecessary. Though there were three officers in the room, none were familiar.

  He walked over to the counter far from the others. After a few moments, one of the men on the other side came over.

  “Help you?”

  “I called a little while ago,” Jake said. “About the BMW that’s apparently missing.”

  “You with the police?” the man asked.

  “I am, but I’m not here about the theft.”

  The man gave him a questioning look.

  “My interest is in the car itself,” Jake explained. “I wasn’t aware it had been taken until I called.”

  “Well…it’s, uh, not here now. Obviously.”

  “Of course, not. I’m just wondering if I could take a look at where it was. I’m not going to get in the other officers’ way. It’s a separate case, so I don’t want to disturb them. Would that be possible?”

  “How is looking around where it was parked going to help you?”

  “I’m sure you understand, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of the case,” Jake said, quoting countless cop shows he’d seen on TV.

  The man nodded. This was an answer he could understand. “Back this way.” He took Jake over to a door at the back of the building and opened it for him. “You want me to show you where?”

  “Just point me in the right direction.”

  “Third row back. You’ll see it when you get there. It’s the empty spot.”

  “Thanks,” Jake said, then walked off.

  He had no idea what he hoped to find, but this was where Berit had been planning on coming. Had she actually made it here? His guess was yes. He would even be willing to bet the reason the car was gone had something to do with her.

  As he approached the third row, he saw a couple officers stringing police tape around an empty parking space, and knew that was where the BMW had been. Like with the officers in the office, he didn’t recognize them.

  Don’t think about it. Just do it, he told himself, then turned down the aisle before he could talk himself out of it.

  As he neared the empty spot, the two officers looked at him. Instead of avoiding their gaze, he smiled and walked over.

  “I hear someone made off with one of the cars,” he said.

  The older of the two took a step forward. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m on the force, too.” He held out his hand and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, said, “I’m Davies.”

  The older cop shook his hand. “Halen.”

  His partner nodded at Jake. “Alvarez.”

  Jake shook his hand, too. “I came by to check on a vehicle involved in a hit and run, and the guy inside told me there was a little excitement here last night.”

  “Apparently,” Halen said.

  “They just take the one car?” Jake asked. It was a rational question, one that any curious cop would ask, but one he thought he already knew the answer, too. He was wrong.

  “It was the only one they took. They set another car on fire back there.” Halen looked over his shoulder, further into the lot.

  For the first time, Jake noticed several other cops gathered a couple rows back. “Burned? Why would they burn one and take another?”

  Halen shrugged. “Who knows? We think it was one of the gangs. Maybe an initiation. They certainly knew what they were doing. Disabled the security cameras and knocked out the guards first. Organized, know what I mean?”

  “Gang, for sure,” Alvarez said. “I’ll bet the missing car was stuffed with coke.”

  His partner nodded in agreement.

  Just then, a voice came over their radio. “Halen, Alvarez. You done?”

  Halen glanced at his and Alvarez’s handiwork. Tape not only encircled the slot the BMW had been in, but also one car to either side and the three straight back in the row that butted up against them.

  He keyed his mic. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then I need one of you over here,” the voice ordered.

  Halen and Alvarez exchanged a look, each asking the other what they wanted to do.

  “I’ll go,” Halen said.

  “Doesn’t matter to me,” Alvarez said.

  As Halen started to walk off, Jake said, “Take it easy.”

  “Yeah, you, too,” Halen replied.

  Jake then gave Alvarez a nod goodbye. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Good luck with your case,” Alvarez said.

  Jake turned and started to amble off the way he’d come.

  What the hell had gone on here last night? The BMW stolen and a car fire? He had the sudden urge to find out what kind of car the one that had burned was. Had it been involved in the events out on Goodman Ranch Road, too?

  He paused in the aisle, and silently admonished himself. You need to forget about the murder and the fire. You need to forget about all of that. You’re only here to try to find out where Berit is. That’s it.

  But it really wasn’t. Berit and the BMW, it all tied back to the murder and the fire. That’s why she was coming out here. He looked back toward the slot now surrounded by yellow tape, but the void it created in the row of cars gave him no new information.

  As he started to turn back around, he paused. There was something under a Cadillac parked two spaces away from where the BMW had been. It was lying against the front tire, hidden mostly behind it.

  He checked Alvarez. The officer had moved to the back of the empty slot, his attention now on the group at the burnt-out car. Jake stepped over to the Cadillac, then, keeping his movements even and smooth, he lowered himself into a crouch next to the fender. The item by the tire was a rectangular piece of black plastic. His initial thought was that it was something that must have fallen off the engine. But as he pulled it out from the shadows of the car, he realized it was a phone.

  Still in a crouch, he pressed one of the phone’s buttons. The screen came to life, the battery gauge showing that it was half full. There was nothing on it to indicate ownership, so Jake accessed the menu to see if there was any information there. He was given a list of choices, and while his in
clination was to try and determine the phone’s number, he selected the line for previous calls.

  He stared at the new screen in disbelief. There were seven missed calls. Every single one of them was from the same person: “JAKE.” He selected one of the calls just to be sure. Contact information came up for the caller—his contact information.

  The phone was Berit’s. She had been here.

  The possibilities of what might have happened made his head spin.

  He started to think she must have been here when the car was taken, but immediately realized that didn’t make sense. She had called him during the afternoon. The car had been taken at night. She would have had no reason to be anywhere near the yard then. Her phone must have been there since not long after she’d left him the message.

  “What are you doing?”

  Jake’s head whipped up. Officer Alvarez was standing a few feet away, the look on his face suspicious.

  “I, uh…” All the possibilities ran through Jake’s mind, paths with different outcomes, none of which seemed to get him where he needed to be. “Dropped my phone.” He raised Berit’s phone so Alvarez could see it. “Thought maybe it was broken, but still working.”

  Alvarez eyed him for a moment longer, then smirked. “My wife dropped hers on the driveway. Busted into a million pieces. You’re lucky.”

  “Yeah. I guess I am.”

  As he was walking away a few moments later, Jake’s phone buzzed—his own phone, not Berit’s. He checked to make sure Alvarez wasn’t watching, then pulled it out.

  “Oliver,” he said, answering it.

  “This is Sergeant Stroop. You are to report here in thirty minutes.”

  “I’m on suspension, ma’am.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Oliver. Thirty minutes.” The line went dead.

  While he had been planning on going to the substation anyway, he had wanted it to be on his own initiative. Given the tone Sergeant Stroop had just taken with him, it sure sounded like he was in for another reprimand.

  But what about Berit?

  He thought about it as he jogged toward the exit. He’d have to tell them, explain that he was afraid that something had happened to her. It didn’t matter how much they dressed him down, as long as they put a team together to try to find her.

  That’s all that mattered.

  21

  When Jake arrived at work, he was directed back to the same meeting room where his suspension had been handed out the previous day. Walking down the hall, he passed other officers he knew, but it didn’t take a psychology major to see that word of his current situation had spread. Most of the officers avoided his gaze, while those who didn’t gave him looks of pity or contempt.

  Was what he’d done really so horrible? He hadn’t actually interfered with the investigation. What he’d been doing was looking into an angle no one else would have even considered. It wasn’t like he was a dirty cop or anything. He’d been trying to be a good cop. That’s all.

  When he opened the door, he expected to find only Sergeant Stroop. And while the sergeant was there, so was Commander Ashworth, and a man Jake didn’t know.

  “Have a seat, Oliver,” Sergeant Stroop said.

  The three of them were sitting on one side of the table. A single chair for Jake was on the other. He pulled it out and sat down.

  “Before we get started, I’m not sure you know Kenneth Myers,” the commander said, indicating the man Jake hadn’t recognized. “He’s the PLEA representative.” PLEA was the Phoenix Law Enforcement Association, the local officers’ version of a union.

  Jake exchanged a quick nod with the man.

  “We’ve had several discussions since we talked with you yesterday,” the commander began. “And in light of new information, we’ve come to a decision.”

  “What new information?” Jake asked.

  “Jake Oliver, we are here to inform you that as of...” Pausing, the commander glanced at the clock on the wall. “Four minutes past noon, Wednesday, May 22nd, your services are no longer required by the Phoenix Police Department.”

  “What?” Jake couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

  “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Oliver, that you’re only terminated and not arrested.”

  “But…but I didn’t—”

  “You can appeal the decision through PLEA.” The commander looked over at Myers, who’d been nodding throughout the conversation.

  “You can do that, yes,” Myers said. “But my advice would be to just move on, son. Some people just aren’t meant for this line of work. No shame in that.”

  Fired? Not meant for this line of work?

  Forget all that. Forget it! Berit. Remember Berit.

  Jake halted his slide into a numbness that threatened to consume him, and said, “Sir.”

  “What is it?” the commander asked, sounding like he’d been hoping Jake would meekly accept the circumstances and leave.

  “I have reason to believe another officer is in danger.”

  Suddenly he had everyone’s attention.

  “What are you talking about?” Sergeant Stroop asked. “Who?”

  “Officer Davies, ma’am. Berit Davies. I believe she’s missing. I found her—”

  “Mr. Oliver,” the sergeant said. “Officer Davies has asked for and been granted a leave of absence to deal with a death in her family.”

  “A death in her family? But—”

  “I think this meeting is over,” Commander Ashworth said. “Mr. Oliver, I’m told your things have been boxed up and will be waiting for you at the desk on your way out.”

  He barely heard the commander’s words. “Officer Davies doesn’t have any fam—”

  “That’s enough, Mr. Oliver,” the commander said, standing. “If you feel the need to make more of this, talk to Mr. Myers. But as far as I’m concerned we’re finished here.”

  Ashworth walked around the table, followed by Stroop and Myers. Jake watched in disbelief as the commander walked out the door. Before Sergeant Stroop could do the same, Jake said, “Wait!”

  The sergeant looked over. “Yes?”

  “Sergeant Stroop, did you personally talk to Berit?”

  “That’s department business, and you are no longer a member of this department.”

  He could see the answer in her eyes, though. She hadn’t talked directly to Berit. He was willing to bet no one had.

  The sergeant’s face softened a bit. “You’re young, Jake. You’ll find something else.”

  She left.

  Myers, who had been waiting behind her, stopped in the doorway. “I trust there won’t be an appeal.”

  “No,” Jake said, knowing there was no future for him in the Phoenix PD even if he should somehow win.

  “I thought not.”

  22

  Jake did everything he could to find Berit. He tracked down what friends she had, and learned in the process that he was probably the one who knew her best. As for family, what he’d been trying to say at the meeting was that she had none, not close anyway. She was an only child whose parents had died in a private plane crash somewhere back east. There might have been aunts or uncles or cousins, but Berit had never talked about them.

  She had been from Atlanta, a big city where the name Davies wasn’t exactly unusual. When he checked an Atlanta phone book at the Phoenix public library, he’d found over forty listings. Dutifully, he had called them all, but none of those who answered had ever heard of Berit.

  For two days he staked out her townhouse, finally breaking in through the back patio door when he began to worry that she might be inside and hurt. He’d been smart enough to use gloves, but the instructions he’d found on the Internet on how to pick a lock had not accurately described how hard it was. It took him nearly thirty minutes to get the door open, and when he was through, he’d made enough scratches on the locks to leave no doubt what he’d done.

  What he found inside confused him even more. Though her place was nearly as neat as it always
was, it was evident that some things were missing. Clothes and toiletries, mainly—things someone would take if they had to leave in a hurry. There were even indentations on the bedspread that could have been created by a suitcase or a bag.

  Had she really left? Had Sergeant Stroop been right?

  As much as Jake had thought not, he couldn’t refute what his eyes were seeing. Someone had been here, and taken the things Berit would have taken with her. Even her running gear was gone.

  But if he was wrong, then why was her phone under a car at the impound yard? That aside, why hadn’t she tried to get a hold of him at some point? She knew he was on thin ice. She would have wanted to know what happened, at the very least.

  For the next several days he kept searching and calling people, but nothing brought him any closer to knowing where she was. Even the few contacts on the force who would still talk to him knew nothing more than that she was on extended leave.

  By the second week he’d run out of leads, and was left with visiting the places he knew she liked to go. By the start of the third week, he stopped doing even that, and began to accept that she had indeed left town. Why, he couldn’t even begin to imagine, but apparently, given her lack of communication, it wasn’t his business. She was probably distancing herself from his problems, and there was no way he could blame her for that.

  For the first time since he’d been fired, he started to think about what he was going to do now about his life. He’d been away from his home in northern Minnesota for five years now, and while Phoenix had been the place he’d spent the most time, it was no longer home. In fact, it probably never had been.

  He needed a fresh start. A new place. New people.

  California, he thought. He’d always wanted to live on the coast.

  He called his landlord and gave his thirty-day notice. As for where in California he’d end up and what he would do when he got there, he could figure that out later. For now, it was just good to know he was moving on.

  But then the next day his phone rang, changing his plans.

  “Am I speaking with Jake Oliver?” a male voice asked. In Jake’s estimation the man was probably middle-aged, and sounded like he was used to being in control.