Back to the video and her necklace. Something told me she had been hiding it. She wanted no one at school to see it. But, apparently, she wanted it in full view when she walked out. She must have been planning to meet someone.
A thought came to mind. And I knew I needed another favor from my favorite SAPD detective.
21
Leaning against a red pickup, which probably didn’t have more than five thousand miles on it, in the Lee High School student parking lot, I waited for the final bell of the day to ring. My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see that Cristina has responded to my text.
Sup?
Three letters was all she could manage? I know I sounded like I was eighty-eight instead of twenty-eight, but this whole texting business just seemed to be burning brain cells at an alarming rate. Yet…here I was, engaging in a text conversation so I could do multiple things at one time—wait on another text reply from Stan, hope that I had the owner of this red pickup figured out, research, survey, rinse and repeat. I’d also spent a few minutes looking through all the names to see if I could find a girl with the initials of NS. I’d made it through the two oldest grades and, astonishingly, found no one with those initials. Perhaps the person known as NSBitch was younger. Or maybe those weren’t her initials at all.
I tapped a response back to Cristina.
Any progress with your friend?
She shot back another text before I could blink.
Which friend? I’m working a lot of angles.
Hmm. I didn’t know about her numerous angles.
NSBitch. Isn’t she the one who you think might know more about Mia?
Cristina: I’m pretty certain.
Me: How certain?
Cristina: Do you want to know the odds or something? I should know in about an hour.
Me: What’s the plan?
Cristina: I convinced her to meet me at the MACC. A lot of shit going on in her life. So, I’m kinda acting like her big sister.
I would have chuckled had she been right there next to me. And the whole “Lol” response would have been lame—I didn’t want to draw her snobby, cool, teenage wrath.
Me: I’ll meet you at the MACC.
I counted to three, knowing she’d respond quickly. I reached two.
Cristina: Please don’t. I don’t want to scare her off.
Me: Don’t worry. The MACC is huge. She won’t know I’m there. I’ll visit with Dr. Amaya until you’re done. Then, we need to talk through everything we’ve learned today. Gotta run.
I looked up to see a flood of students invading the parking lot. I put a few feet between me and the truck and tried to look nonchalant. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I put the phone to my ear and pretended to be in a conversation while casually pacing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two guys moving in my direction. One was tall, lean, had blue eyes that could have been seen from the moon. Brandon McCarthy, Mia’s ex-boyfriend, looked just like his picture from the yearbook.
“I’ll tell you what, motherfucker, ain’t no way in hell I’m going to practice today. That motherfucker can suck my—” He stopped midsentence. I was pretty sure he saw me, but he just continued heading to the driver’s side door. His buddy, a shorter kid with glasses, continued walking past the truck. I assumed he was parked in another row.
I felt Brandon’s eyes on me, so I said into the phone, “As an insurance company, we’re not in the business of giving away money just because someone files a claim. Yeah, I get what you’re saying, but tell your adjuster to reverse his decision.”
I heard an electronic chirp—he’d unlocked the doors to his pickup. I quickly shuffled over, pulled open the passenger door, and dropped into the leather seat. Brandon was halfway in the pickup when I saw his eyes practically pop out of his head. He got in and held up both hands.
“I didn’t mean no harm when I filed that claim. Some kid hit me, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
Who would have thought he’d tried to commit insurance fraud? “I don’t work for your insurance company.”
“Who do you work for then?”
“I don’t work for any insurance company.”
He looked out the front windshield as if he were still trying to piece it all together. He swiveled his head to me. “Who are you? What are you doing in my truck?”
“I have a few questions for you, Brandon.”
His eyes scanned me, then he took a swallow. “What kind of questions?”
“Just a—”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t know you. You’re obviously not a cop, so I don’t have to answer any questions. I know my rights. So get the hell out of my pickup,” he said, flicking his wrist at me like I was a pest.
I supposed I was. But this pest wasn’t easily scared off. “I’m not going to leave until you answer my questions.”
He looked out the window, his brow furrowed. “Listen, lady, you’re, uh, making people look at me. Just get out. Now.”
The boom of his voice rattled inside the small compartment, but I kept my composure. “You can yell and scream like a two-year-old, but I’m not going away.”
He squeezed the steering wheel and grunted. “You’re invading my privacy. It’s completely within my rights to come over there and throw your ass out.”
He was trying to convince himself, but I’d brought along a little insurance policy of my own. I made sure he had my gaze, then I lowered my sights to my purse sitting on my lap. I tapped the side, hoping he could see the outline of the Luger LC9s.
I could practically see the air leave his body. “Okay,” he said steadily. “I’ll answer your damn questions, but can I meet you somewhere?”
He thought he could pull a fast one on me. What a punk. “Drive.”
“What?”
“If you don’t want to be seen with me, just drive.”
He huffed out a breath, didn’t say a word. He pulled to the edge of the parking lot and turned right. “Okay, go ahead with your stupid questions.”
22
The muffler rumbled as he increased his speed.
“We’re in a school zone, you know.”
“You sound like my damn mother,” he said, lifting his foot off the gas.
Cristina would have said the same thing. She didn’t have her license yet. Up until a few months ago, she wasn’t sure where she was sleeping on any particular night. Eventually, she’d want to take that next step. San Antonio wasn’t Boston or Chicago, where rapid transit was a way of life. For now, though, she could use her skateboard or bike. Maybe I’d hire someone to teach her how to drive. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure our professional relationship could survive.
A car drove by, honking its horn. Two girls leaned out the side windows and waved at Brandon. He responded with a quick wave.
“You’re rather popular,” I said.
“I hold my own.”
He made it sound like popularity was a sport, and one that he intended to be successful at. “Do you play football?”
“I’m on the team, yep.”
That seemed like a loaded response. “On the team, but you’re blowing off practice.”
“Yep.”
He kept his eyes on the road, then he turned to see me looking at him. “Do you work for Coach Rossi? Did he hire you to follow me around, to babysit me?” He started to laugh, but it was the kind of machine-gun laugh that made him sound like he was about to lose it. “Oh, please tell me that you work for Coach Rossi. That motherfucker…I’ll drive back to school, walk out on the practice field, and tell him to go straight to hell.”
His bravado was quite impressive. And likely a load of crap. “First of all, I don’t work for your football coach or anyone associated with the football program or the high school. So relax.”
“Yeah, whatever. If you were me, lady, you would have thought the same thing.”
He had a major attitude toward his coach. Again, typical teenage stuff. Although his grudge seemed like it had roots that went on for m
iles. What I found most intriguing was that his thoughts didn’t go straight to Mia, a girl who’d been missing for two-plus days.
“I’m not really into the drama around your football team. I’m more concerned with finding a girl you might know, Mia Romero.”
He shot me a quick glance before executing a right turn. We found ourselves in another school zone in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He was forced to drive ten miles per hour.
“So are you some kind of private detective hired by her parents?” He’d already lost some of the steel in his voice.
“Yes. Do you know where she is?”
“How would I know?”
“You two were a couple, right?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“I guess? The way I understood it, you were boyfriend and girlfriend. Is that different than how you remember it?”
“No,” he said with a sigh. “But that doesn’t mean anything. I have no idea where she is.”
He’d already settled into a defensive posture. I needed him to open up, not close down. I changed my approach. “Her parents are extremely upset. I guess you know what happened to her brother, Daniel.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Kind of sucks.”
“Did Mia talk much about Daniel?”
“Not really. She didn’t want to get all sad and everything. But I could tell it was tough on her.”
“Did you help her during those times when she was upset?”
“I suppose. I’m not really good at that stuff. But we talked some, yeah.”
We’d made our way through the school zone, and he increased his speed, but only to thirty-five. He steered with one hand, scratched his chin with the other.
“Mia’s parents—”
“I know, I know. They’re upset. I get it.”
“Actually, I was going to say that they really liked you a lot. Thought you were good to Mia.” I got the feeling that Raul had a stronger positive feeling about Brandon than Consuela did, but that could be because Raul might have looked at Brandon as a replacement for his son. Not completely, but at least in sharing common interests, as in sports and caring for Mia.
He shifted in his seat. I couldn’t determine if that was normal for him or if he was uncomfortable with the discussion. “I guess that’s cool and all.”
“Something wrong?”
“No, it’s just that we broke up, and you know, I’ve moved on. So has she. Her parents were cool.”
He paused, and I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I asked, “Was it an amicable breakup?”
“Are you asking me if we had a big blow-up or something and that’s what ended it?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I’m asking.”
He cleared his throat. “We were cool. We agreed to be…” He paused, using his finger to form quotes. “Friends.”
“Why do you phrase it that way?”
“I mean, that’s what most people say, right? But it’s awkward. And you know, like every couple, we had our issues.”
“Yeah, we’re all human. If two people spend enough time together, then after a while you realize that thing you like about your partner is also the thing that bugs you.” I couldn’t say where that insight came from. Had I subconsciously thrown in my feelings about Saul? Doubtful. I didn’t have any hidden issues with him. At least none that I’d uncovered thus far.
“I mean, yeah…” He scratched his chin again. “Mia and I weren’t perfect. She was hot and all, but we argued like normal people.”
Hot and all. Why had I thought he would be any different than most teenage boys? Maybe I was hoping that Mia’s parents really knew him. Apparently, they’d been snowed. But I still hadn’t been able to determine if that meant he had anything to do with her disappearance.
I continued the good-cop approach…for now. “Yeah, I’ve been dating this guy for a while, and sometimes, you know, we just lose it on each other. Gets kind of ugly.” This was a complete fabrication, of course. Saul and I, to a degree, were so amiable it was almost too good to believe. I was sure eventually there would be something about him that would annoy me to high hell. For now, it was smooth sailing, at least as long as we kept our relationship in this committed-but-refuse-to-put-a-label-on-it mode.
“Fuckin’ A,” he said, with a slight chuckle. “I mean, Mia was cool and all, but she was kind of a nag. ‘Dress this way. Put your arm around me this way. Dance with me this way,’” he said in a whiny voice, obviously trying to imitate Mia. “And what did I get in return? Nothing. She didn’t even put out for me.”
Again, I tried not to roll my eyes or, better yet, backhand him across his smug face. I had to keep up the act, hoping he’d give me something to go on. “Yeah, well, we can’t always get what we want.” I almost chuckled, hearing myself quoting the Rolling Stones song. It was, nonetheless, applicable.
We drove another mile in silence. Then, finally, he said, “I don’t know your name.”
I turned to him. “Ivy Nash.”
“Ivy. Strange name.”
“I’ve been told.”
“And Mia’s parents are paying you? I didn’t think they had much money.”
I looked around his truck, noticing all of the bells and whistles you might see on the vehicle of someone who’d worked his way up the corporate ladder. But Brandon was only seventeen or eighteen, and here he was. He’d arrived, or so he probably thought.
“They don’t have a lot of money, Brandon. But they can’t find their daughter, and they’re absolutely distraught. I’m sure you’ve seen the flyers around town.”
Just then, we reached an intersection. Stapled to the electric pole was a picture of Mia. “They’re everywhere,” he said, his eyes staying on the flyer for an extra second.
“Do you still care about Mia?”
He pulled away from the stop sign. I could see we’d made a giant loop around the school and were nearing the entrance. He pulled in and stopped in the front parking lot where the administrators and teachers parked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He was back to being defensive, but I still couldn’t get a bead on his motivation. “It’s a pretty straightforward question, don’t you think?”
“She’s cool, I guess. It’s just that, you know, we had our issues, like you said earlier.”
“Brandon, she’s been missing for two-plus days.” I let that linger a bit. He looked out his window. Did he get distracted by a squirrel, or was he pondering whether or not to tell me more?
Teachers were starting to walk into the parking lot. A couple of them glanced in our direction. Brandon didn’t seem to care or maybe just didn’t notice, lost in his own thoughts. Who knew?
I decided to work on his oversized ego. “What position do you play on the football team?”
He flipped around to look at me. “Why do you want to go there?”
“Just humor me.”
“Quarterback. Why?”
“That’s a leadership position.”
“And your point is?”
“Kids, your teammates, they all probably look up to you.”
“Eh. Some do. But others don’t like me skipping practice. They think I’m a rebel.”
“So you think you’re just a conscientious objector?”
“What the fuck is that?”
I tried not to smile. “Whatever you’re doing by skipping practice, you think it’s a justifiable cause. You’re doing it to make a point, not just be a rebel.”
“Now you’re reading me,” he said with a half-smile.
“Like I said before, I’m not really into the political issues with your team. But my point is, if you wanted to find out about something that’s going on at the school, you probably have a lot of different people who will listen to you. Am I right?”
“Maybe.” He looked off, scratching his chin yet again. I slid my business card out of the side pocket of my purse and handed it to him.
“ECHO. Sounds like some type of ghost-hunting company.�
� He tried to chuckle but never quite got there.
“My number is on the card. Call me, text me. If you find out anything about Mia, even if it’s a rumor, let me know, okay?”
He flapped the edge of the card against his few whiskers. “Yeah, for sure. I can do that.” He tossed the card toward the center tray, which was full of junk. The card fell to the floorboard. He picked it up and shoved it in the tray. When he did, my eyes were drawn to the chain of a necklace and what looked like the edge of a pendant. I felt a click in my breath.
He shuffled the stuff around in the tray, as if he were trying to keep the necklace or the pendant concealed. I tried not to stare.
“Is that all? I think I need to go check in with the coaches. Or maybe I’ll just head home and get started on my homework.”
I pulled on the door handle and stuck a foot out. “Just remember, Brandon. I don’t care about all of the petty school stuff. Mia’s life could be in danger. And if you put some effort into it, I think you can help her.”
He shrugged. “I’m no Five-O, but I’ll ask around.” He motioned for me to close the door. I did and he sped away, not toward the back of the school where football practice was being held, but instead toward the parking lot exit. And, as if he were trying to make a statement, he punched the gas as he turned onto the road and laid some rubber.
23
From where I was standing next to the glass door of Dr. Amaya’s office—one that was framed in purple, the dominant color throughout the MACC—I could see Cristina crumpled into a bean bag chair, her eyes focused on her cell phone as she thumbed in letters faster than any human I’d seen. She and I had already given each other the not-so-subtle head nod that signified we’d seen each other. But I knew not to approach her, in case NSBitch was one of the dozens of kids roaming around the community center. We didn’t want to scare off a potential source of information on Mia.
I peeked at my phone for about the tenth time in the last five minutes. My screen was blank, and I let out an exasperated breath. I’d sent a text to Stan and then decided to send one to Brook too—trying to work both sides of the coin, so to speak. I was desperate to get some movement on Mia’s disappearance and I had an idea, one that probably would have already been executed had the Romeros officially filed a report with the SAPD.
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6: Redemption Thriller Series 10-12 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 61
