Also . . . them kids. They put up “Lark Missing” signs. Who told ’em to do that? Bet it was the pretty one’s idea. She looks smart. Or maybe that weird redhead. She wanders around all over the place, day and night. She ain’t careful, somebody’s gonna snatch her . . .
CHAPTER 22
Jonelle needed to speak to Luther. The sun hung low on the horizon, which meant his community of friends might start to straggle in at his camp in the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The site had a hierarchy with Luther at the top, so the other occupants treated her with as much respect as an outsider could receive.
She drove quickly to the east side Baltimore neighborhood lined with decrepit warehouses and boarded up row homes. No longer wary of the occupants, she still kept an eye out for anything suspicious as the police had long given up on even a cursory patrol of the area. She parked at the curb across from a gaping hole in the chain link fence, grabbed a large paper bag filled with groceries, and, as an added precaution, locked and engaged the alarm on her Jeep. Not out of concern from the people who called this place home, but in case a wandering addict stumbled upon the building.
Once she slid the bag through the hole, squeezing through the fence was easy—the opening had expanded in size from constant use. She turned on the penlight to guide her through the clumps of dead grass, weeds and dirt and into the huge side opening. A few points of light glowed in the distance but weren’t enough to cut through the darkness. She stood outside and called out before going any further. “Luther!”
No response.
“Luther, it’s me, Jonelle Sweet. You here?” The answer came from shuffling sounds all around. She remembered his private patch was on the next level but knew she couldn’t go further inside until given permission to do so. She tried to remember a name she’d heard in the past. Was it TJ? “Hey. If Luther’s not here, is there someone named TJ around? We met last year, remember?”
“Lady, will you please shut up? I’m tryin’ to sleep. Luther knows you’re here—hell, people up in Canada know you’re here yellin’ like that.”
She had no choice but to wait. She let out a frustrated sigh and pulled out her cellphone, and right in the middle of checking emails a slight shuffle, pause, shuffle, pause, made its way to her across the warehouse floor. A voice up close said, “Ain’t seen you in a while. Why you here?”
She shone her penlight at the voice.
Without waiting for an answer, he motioned for her to follow him. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, she was able to make out several shapes across the floor. At first glance, disorder seemed the rule. But as Jonelle followed Luther deep inside the immense space, a type of order emerged. Those with the most belongings gathered along the periphery, as well as something she hadn’t seen before—a woman with a small child. Jonelle’s heart sank.
“Why are children in here, Luther? This is awful. You can’t—”
“Relax. It’s only one and it’s only temp’ry. Anita’s gonna have a place tomorrow for her and the little one. She only needed a spot for tonight, and this place is safer than most. ’Course, you already know that.” He chuckled deep in his chest.
She did know. Past experience proved the protection the group provided to each other. He sat on a wooden crate, reached down, and turned on an LED lamp. Jonelle had presented him with several of the lights as a Christmas gift last year. The hope was that the group would use the lights for illumination instead of the much more dangerous barrel fire and candles.
“So,” she said. “How’ve you been?”
He squinted at her. “You come all this way and at this time ’a night to see if I’m healthy? Girl, you gots to be kiddin’ me. What you really want?”
She wasted no time relating the story of the abduction of four-year-old Lark Phelps and her assignment to find out as much as she could about the child’s mother.
“Everyone in her building kept saying what a good mom she was and I believed it at first. Still do, in a way. Except she missed so much work, she lost her full-time job. Yet, she kept up the routine of taking her daughter to her sister’s place in the morning, picked her up again around five or so, and had a neighbor watch the little girl while she left for her second job. Problem is the second job was on call, so she wasn’t required to be there every night. Even so, she was absent there several times and lost that job as well.”
“So you’re gonna find out where she been going? You think that’s got somethin’ to do with the kidnapping?”
“Not sure yet. The biological father says one time he followed her to a warehouse district not far from here. He thinks one of the buildings produces pornography videos.”
Luther slapped his leg. A wide grin spread across his dark face. His scraggly beard had grown whiter since she last saw him six months ago. “So, she’s hot, huh?”
Jonelle held her anger in check. “This isn’t funny, Luther. A child is missing.”
“Yeah. You right. What you want me to do?”
“Do you know if there are places around here that produce films like that?”
“Sure. More’n you think. And you can’t walk right in them places. You gotta ring a bell ’cause the doors are always locked. I know on account of I got shooed away a hunnert times. And they got them big metal bars on the door and windows out back.”
“How do you know what’s out back?”
He cocked his head. “How d’ya think?”
Not one to judge anyone’s morality, Jonelle needed proof to give to Langford. The information about Tamora’s other life might be devastating to her case if the prosecution knew something her lawyer didn’t.
“If I show you a picture, could you tell me if you’ve seen her go inside one of those places?”
“Mebbe. Lemme see it first.”
One of the things Jonelle had Langford do was send her recent photos of Lark and Tamora. She pulled up Tamora, expanded the picture to fill the screen, and showed it to Luther. “Pretty girl,” he said. “Do she sometimes wear her hair piled on top of her head and wound ’round and ’round like a snake?”
“Not sure.”
He handed the phone back to Jonelle. “Kinda looks familiar. But when them girls come and go, I ain’t really lookin’ at their face. Know what I mean?” He winked at her. “What’s the problem? You’re real good at followin’ people.”
“She knows what I look like.” She stared off in the distance.
“If you’re thinkin’ of havin’ me sneak inside, that won’t do. Hell, I couldn’t get past the damn door.”
“No. Not you. However, I have a friend . . .” Adrienne was game for just about anything and could pull off the look, except for the bra size and there were ways to get around that.
“What? What you thinkin’?”
“I’ve got to witness Tamora enter that place and for Adrienne to get inside and make sure they’re filming what we think they are. Trick is how to get her inside? Gotta think more about this.”
“You thought about this other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“That little girl. You think the reason that little girl was snatched got somethin’ to do with what her mama is doin’? Mebbe they gettin’ a two for one?”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she’s only four.”
“All kindsa pervs out there. Not just ones that like lookin’ at naked people goin’ at it.”
She tried to shake the image out of her mind. “It might be related . . . somehow. But I don’t believe she’d do that to her child. I’m concentrating on what Tamora’s up to. Once I figure that out, maybe it’ll lead me to Lark.”
• • •
She drove back to her condo with an idea of how to prove what Tamora did all day forming in her mind. She parked in her assigned space. She entered the building to the soothing, deep bass of Hamilton Yee’s cello floating from his condo above. No sooner had she entered her apartment when someone knocked softly on her door. The only other occupant was Sheila and her
work day was beginning when others ended. And no one would describe Mathilda’s knock as “soft.”
“What’s wrong Franklin? Is it Mathilda?” she asked, opening the door to the elderly man rubbing his hands over and over.
“She’s acting . . . peculiar,” he said, panic in his voice, “and I don’t know what to do.”
Jonelle put her arm around his shoulder. “Let’s get you back inside.”
Franklin allowed himself to be escorted inside his apartment.
She hadn’t been around much lately, so she’d assumed that Mathilda’s new habit of repeating words and actions was simply a case of advancing age. Franklin nodded to the sofa where a slight figure sat immobile, eyes glued to the television screen.
“Mathilda?” Jonelle advanced slowly.
The vacant stare from Mathilda’s pale blue eyes was gut-wrenching. The worry lines between her eyes faded as the fog lifted and recognition dawned. “Oh, hi Jonnie.” She looked around as if seeing the living room for the first time. “Um. Where’s Franklin?”
“I’m right here, Mattie.” He shot Jonelle a “see what I mean?” look. When she had more time, she and Franklin needed to have a long conversation.
Mathilda rose unsteadily to her feet. “I’ve gotta get dinner ready,” she said.
“No way,” Jonelle said. “Franklin said he’s treating you tonight. He’s gonna order takeout from your favorite Chinese place. Right, Franklin?”
“Yes. Yes. Kung Pao chicken Mattie. Your favorite. Plus they deliver fast.”
Mattie smiled and snuggled her small body deeper into the overstuffed sofa.
Jonelle motioned for Franklin to follow her to the door.
“Keep an eye on her at all times, understand?”
“You see what I mean, though, right? She’s not the same Mattie as before.” His eyes began to water.
She patted his arm. “You might have to prepare yourself for a new normal.”
He nodded, and with a slight wave good-bye, closed his door.
Once inside her own condo, Jonelle wanted to drop where she stood and not move for hours. Several small meows and gentle fur against her ankles kept her upright. She reached down and picked up the kitten, planting a soft kiss on top of her head and stroking the soft multi-colored fur. “Too tired to play now, kiddo. How about a treat? What say I let you play awhile with catnip Clara and when you get tired of that, have at your bat the ball toy.” With Jonelle’s hours, maybe Gracie would like a brother or sister. She smiled wondering what Adrienne would think.
Jonelle set the kitten down and checked the food and water dishes. That done, and with Gracie madly chasing “Clara” around the living room, Jonelle poured a generous amount of chilled white wine in an oversized wine glass.
“Here’s looking at you, kid,” she said, raising the glass in a mock salute toward a frantic Gracie now rolling over and over on top of a drug-infused toy mouse. Jonelle staggered to the sofa, kicked off her shoes and leaned back against the cushions. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this tired.
Instead of turning on the television, she used the remote to turn on the stereo, adjusted her cellphone to mute, swallowed a generous amount of wine, and lay back against the sofa. The tightness in her shoulders eased. She breathed evenly and deeply and settled the wine on the coffee table.
When she awoke, everything was dark, and a small lump lay on her chest. She moved the sleeping kitten and sat up slowly, trying to clear the confusion from her brain. “Ugh. Nothing worse than going to sleep with only wine in your system.” She checked her phone and moaned when the display read almost eleven. She trudged into the kitchen and made herself scrambled eggs with onion and cheese and stuck a k-cup in the new coffee maker.
The plan swirling in her head on how to get inside the studio depended on Adrienne, but was she ready to get her best friend involved in who knew what kind of situation?
CHAPTER 23
Jonelle punched Tamora’s number for the fourth time. Once again the call went directly to voicemail. She glared at the phone as if it was the instrument’s fault the woman didn’t answer and turned to Adrienne. “If you don’t stop fiddling with the top, all that padding’s gonna pop out,” she said.
Adrienne sighed dramatically. “Can’t help it. This stuff keeps shifting around. I still don’t understand why I need all this foam rubber. No way I’m taking my clothes off for these people.”
“Don’t want you to. That is, if you even get the chance. I gave Luther a burner phone and told him to hang around the area. When I see Tamora, I’ll give him a call. We wait until he comes and grabs their attention, and then you hop out and act like you wanna see somebody about a job. You know, you’re an actress and you don’t wanna be a waitress any more, yada, yada. You get the drift.”
She pulled her mini binoculars up to her eyes and scanned the area. The only thing they noticed in the forty-five minutes they sat at the far end of the block behind two abandoned cars was the arrival of three men—two white and one black—laughing and talking as one pulled out a key and they entered. So far, no sign of any women.
“You sure you got the right night?” Adrienne asked, still poking at her chest.
“No idea what night they shoot.” She looked at the time readout on her phone. Nearly ten. “I figure the so-called talent waits until dark before they show up, which is fine with me. We’re pretty safe from notice out here since the only working street light is on the other corner.”
Adrienne turned around in her seat. They elected to take her Saab as Jonelle’s Jeep was too conspicuous. “So what’re you thinking about the mother? She have something to do with the kidnapping?”
Jonelle leaned back in the passenger seat. “I’ve been going over and over that. Hard to believe she had anything to do with it. However, she’s lied to just about everybody connected with this case, so you have to ask yourself, why?”
“Okay. Why?”
“She can’t help herself. Her first reaction is to come off looking good no matter what and damn the facts. If she is a porn actress—and I use the term actress loosely—these people are most likely self-absorbed in order to do this kind of thing.”
“How much d’you think she makes taking her clothes off?”
Jonelle’s eyebrows shot up.
Adrienne wore a tight red leather mini skirt and tight black low-cut sequined blouse enhanced by something called a bomber bra purchased at a high-end lingerie store. A few additional pieces of foam were added for maximum effect.
“You thinking about making a career change?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m only curious.”
“No idea what the money’s like,” Jonelle said. “Probably more than working for a medical supply company.”
Silence hung in the air until a car drove by. The dark sedan slid next to the curb in front of the building. A woman emerged, carrying a small case.
“That’s her,” Jonelle said. She alerted Luther.
“Okay,” Adrienne said. “What do we do?”
Jonelle raised her binoculars. A dark figure approached from the opposite direction, moving as fast as his pronounced limp would allow.
“Here he comes. Hop out before she goes inside. Run up to the door. Hurry!”
Adrienne bounded out of the car and hightailed it toward the building. “Hey, Tamora,” Adrienne called. “You are Tamora, right?”
“Hey, good-looking,” Luther called. “You two fine ladies got any change for an ole man?”
The driver of the car got out, and Jonelle recognized him as Shawn from Tamora’s day job. He stood between the two women and Luther and gestured at the homeless man. Luther stepped back, arms raised to ward off whatever came next.
Ready to run to Luther’s aid if need be, she was relieved when both women were let inside the building. Once Luther witnessed that, he turned and hobbled off the way he came. Shawn watched him for a few seconds, got back in the car, and drove off.
Now for the hard part. Waiting
for Adrienne to return. She worked out the time at the condo. If Adrienne didn’t make some excuse and return to the car in an hour, she’d attempt to get inside by telling them she was Adrienne’s sister and demand to speak to her. The two friends looked nothing alike, but that was beside the point. If Tamora objected, well . . . she’d figure out what to say.
Rather than sit and watch the time, Jonelle decided to go in search of Luther. It was never pitch black in the city, so she found him around the back, poking through the trash bins. He hadn’t heard her walk up and jumped when she called his name.
“Damn. You wanna give me some kinda heart attack or what?”
“Sorry. Didn’t wanna wait in the car. Heard anything about the missing four-year-old?”
Without stopping his search through the trash, Luther answered the question. “Not much. And you know why as much as me. It’s ’cause her mama’s black and ain’t got no money.”
Jonelle believed that was only part of the reason. “Lark’s picture’s been on the news, so somebody must know something.”
He paused what he was doing and peered at her through the dim light coming from a weak security fixture high on the building. “Mebbe. But I ain’t seen no fliers or nothin’ around, have you? You should ask yourself how come that is. How come no relatives or nobody goin’ around demandin’ somethin’ be done, huh? Don’t know how much you know about that woman inside, but she don’t look so broke up to me.”
Luther was right, yet she wasn’t ready to concede that Tamora had something to do with her child’s abduction. “I’d like to ask another favor.”
He stopped digging around. “Was waitin’ for you to go there. What you want?”
She ignored the dig. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Ask around. If I was going to snatch a kid, I’d want a damn good reason to take the risk. I’m ruling out money because Tamora’s not wealthy. Her sister owns her own business, but from what I’ve seen, her daycare isn’t making her rich. The only other options are that someone wants to use the child in some way. That’s why I need to find her.”
Five Minutes Page 11
