by J. A. Jance
“What in the world were you thinking?” Ali demanded. “Why did you leave the hospital? What are you doing here?”
But whatever was going on with Crystal and no matter how scared she was, she wasn’t prepared to give a straight answer. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she half-sobbed. “Can’t we just go back to the hospital?” she begged. “Please. I won’t do it ever again. I promise.”
For two days Ali had done her best to be understanding and sympathetic toward this troubled child. Now she was in no mood for Crystal Holman’s latest set of drama-queen histrionics.
“I should hope not,” Ali said.
Crystal sat huddled miserably on the far side of the car, but instead of watching where they were going, she seemed to be concentrating on traffic in the rearview mirror. Her verbal response, when it finally came, was the last thing Ali expected.
“Thank you,” Crystal said.
For what? Ali wondered. For picking you up or for giving you hell?
“Are you going to tell me what you were up to?” she asked.
“I just needed to get out of the hospital for a while,” Crystal said. “I needed to be by myself.”
“That’s probably a lie,” Ali said. She held out her hand. “Now give me your cell phone.”
“My cell phone?” Crystal repeated with a gasp. “Why?”
“Give it to me,” Ali repeated.
“You’re taking my cell phone away? How come?”
“Because having a cell phone is a privilege, not a right,” Ali replied. “At the moment, as the person who’s supposed to be looking after you, I’m declaring that your behavior doesn’t warrant any privileges.”
After a long moment’s hesitation, Crystal sighed, plucked her cell phone out of the pocket of her sweats, and dropped it into Ali’s open palm.
“Are you happy now?” Crystal wanted to know.
“Hardly,” Ali answered. “I’m not going to be happy until I can hand you back over to your father and turn you into his problem instead of mine.”
Back in the hospital lobby, Detective Lee Farris had arrived on the scene and taken charge of the situation. He had moved Sandy Mitchell and Madeline Havens to the far corner of the room and had commandeered both a small table and a power outlet for Madeline’s computer. By then all three sketches had been completed. While Lee began questioning Sandy, Madeline used a tiny portable scanner/printer to run off copies of the composite drawings.
With no one paying particular attention to her, Crystal wandered over to the printer and picked up one of the sketches. She looked at it for only a moment. Then, turning deathly pale, she let the paper slip from her hand. “I’ve gotta go to the restroom. I’m gonna be sick.”
As she raced away, Ali picked up the fallen sketch, which turned out to be the one of the empty-eyed man she had seen earlier. Crystal may not have picked the sketch out from a law-enforcement-approved montage, but her reaction was enough to convince Ali that for Crystal Holman, the chilling likeness was of someone she recognized.
Ali followed Crystal as far as the restroom door, where the very convincing sound of retching made it clear that Crystal really was sick. Before Ali could storm inside and confront her about any of it, however, Crystal’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. When Ali went to answer, she discovered it was a text message rather than a voice call, a message from someone called CU. Does that C stand for Curt? Ali wondered.
“WHERE R U?” the message read. “WENT TO PARK. U DIDNT SHOW.”
The words confirmed Ali’s worst suspicions. Crystal hadn’t gone to the park just to get away from the hospital. She had gone there to meet this person who was now text-messaging her. And wasn’t it possible that this was also the same guy Crystal claimed she couldn’t contact, Curt with no last name? And why was he so eager to be in touch with Crystal now? Ali was reasonably sure he was looking for a second helping of whatever sexual favors Crystal Holman had been offering.
Staring at the screen, Ali wanted to reach through the phone and grab CU by the neck. Much as she would have enjoyed strangling him, she also knew someone needed to convince him to come forward and tell the authorities whatever he knew about Kip Hogan’s attackers. Since Detective Farris was fully occupied with interviewing Sandy Mitchell at the moment, Ali decided to take matters into her own hands. And fingers.
Ali and Chris had been sending text messages for years. When she had been working late hours at the station, text messaging had afforded her the simplest means of staying in touch with her son. And because she had been considered “in the know” on that topic, she had done a series of stories designed to help clueless parents have some idea of what their kids were doing and saying with their now ubiquitous cell phones.
Ali hesitated for a moment. Would she be able to reply without letting CU know that someone other than Crystal was responding? What’s there to lose? she wondered.
“WENT,” Ali said, keying in her response. “CAUGHT.” Ali had had to think a minute. “UHA.” She was pretty sure that meant under house arrest, but she had no way of knowing if CU understood what she was saying.
“WAYN?” That one was easy. Where are you now?
“HOSPITAL”
“ST FRANCIS?”
“Y” YES.
Inside the restroom the toilet flushed. That meant Crystal would be coming out soon. “L8R,” Ali wrote. “PAW” Ali knew that was universal teen speak for “parents are watching.”
Ali shoved the phone back into her pocket just as Crystal emerged from the restroom. “Better?” Ali asked.
Crystal nodded wanly. Either the girl really was sick, or she was doing an excellent job of faking it. She went over to a love seat and lay down on it, covering her eyes with her arm. Meanwhile, the phone was once again vibrating in Ali’s pocket, announcing the arrival of another message.
Just then Bob Larson bounded into the hospital lobby. Ali hadn’t expected him until much later—not until after the restaurant closed in the early afternoon and he had a chance to drive down.
“My Bronco’s still in the shop,” Bob explained. “Franco gave me a loaner and your mother let me off early, so here I am. What’s happening?”
Crystal’s phone vibrated impatiently. “Detective Farris from Flagstaff is here interviewing Sandy,” Ali told him. “And we now have a set of composite drawings of the guys Kip confronted the other day.”
“Are they the same ones who beat him up?” Bob asked.
“Could be,” Ali answered. “We don’t know that for sure.”
Bob glanced at Crystal, who was still sprawled on the love seat. “What’s going on with her?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
“She claims to be sick,” Ali said. “But I’m not sure I believe her.” With that, Ali walked over to the love seat.
“Sit up, Crystal,” she ordered. “I need to talk to you.”
Crystal uncovered her eyes, but she didn’t move. “What?” she asked.
“I have errands to run,” Ali told her. “My dad’s here. He’s your babysitter for the moment, and he’s going to watch you like a hawk. If you know what’s good for you, by the time I get back, you’ll have spilled your guts to Detective Farris. Otherwise I’ll tell him you’ve been withholding information in a homicide investigation. I believe that qualifies as a felony, by the way.”
With that Ali turned and headed toward the door with the phone still vibrating in her pocket and with her father padding along after her.
“Aren’t you being a little tough on her?” Bob Larson asked.
“Not nearly tough enough,” Ali replied. “And I’m serious. Keep an eye on her. She’s already run off once today, and she’ll do it again if you give her half a chance.”
“But where are you going?” Bob wanted to know.
“Out,” Ali said. “There’s something I need to do.”
“When will you be back?”
“When I can.” Realizing that she, too, was sounding like a rebellious teenager, Ali hurried outside and ext
racted Crystal’s vibrating telephone.
“RUOK?” CU wanted to know. “IWSN”
Ali’s stomach tightened into a knot. IWSN was a parental red flag for I want sex now.
You turd, she thought. “ME2,” Ali wrote.
“WAW” That translated into where and when?
Headed for her car in the garage, Ali scrambled for an answer. She needed a place with enough vehicle traffic that her Cayenne would blend in. She also needed a spot where, conceivably, Crystal could arrive on foot.
“CFEE SHP ON THOMAS,” Ali wrote.
“CUT” That would be IM-speak for see you there.
And I will see you there, you worthless jerk, Ali thought grimly. I just won’t be the thirteen-year-old you’re expecting.
{ CHAPTER 10 }
It took less than three minutes for Ali to exit the parking garage and make it to the parking lot of the dingy coffee shop across from the hospital. She pulled into a space next to a uniform store and waited. Minutes later, and even though she was expecting it—waiting for it—she was shocked when a white Ford Explorer nosed slowly through the parking lot without stopping.
Suddenly meeting up with CU was no longer a remote possibility. It was all too real. What would she say to Curt? Apprehensive about the coming confrontation, a combination of fear and rage swept through her. Ali’s heart sped up. Her hands began to cramp.
A few minutes later, the Explorer was back. Again it didn’t stop, but the second time through the lot, Ali managed to jot down the license number. The third time it pulled into a space directly in front of the restaurant and stayed there for several minutes with the engine idling. No one got in or out, and the tint-darkened windows made it impossible for Ali to see inside. With her palms wet with sweat, Ali gripped the steering wheel. She had managed to lure CU out into the open, but she had no idea what his next move would be or hers, either.
With her full attention focused on the Explorer, Ali jumped involuntarily when Crystal’s phone sprang to life and buzzed again.
“HERE,” CU wrote. “WAU?” Where are you?
“TRYING TGTHOOH,” Ali added. Trying to get the hell out of here.
“TRY HARDER,” CU wrote back. “TYPO.” Take your panties off.
The idea that he was trying to lure someone as young as Crystal out of the hospital for quickie sex made Ali furious. Stymied by the tinted windows, Ali was almost to the point of exiting the Cayenne to see if she could get a better look inside the Explorer. That’s when her own phone rang. She had to put Crystal’s phone down before she could answer.
“Ali?” a woman said. “Arabella Ashcroft here. Have you read it yet?”
“Read what?” Ali asked.
“The diary,” Arabella answered impatiently.
Guiltily Ali realized that the mostly unread diary was still where she had left it the night before—in her purse.
“No,” Ali admitted. “I’ve been caught up in a crisis. I haven’t had a chance.”
“That’s probably just as well,” Arabella replied. “Things have changed on my end, too. I don’t need you to read it after all. If you’d be so kind as to just drop it off here when you have a chance.”
Crystal’s phone was buzzed again. “CNT W8 ALL DAY. MYB.” Move your butt. Clearly CU was running out of patience.
“I’ll have to get back to you on this,” Ali said to Arabella. “I’m in Phoenix right now and busy.”
“Certainly,” Arabella said. “At your convenience. There’s no rush.”
“PLS,” Ali wrote. Please. But by then the Explorer was already backing out of the parking place. As it eased south on Third, Ali made a split-second decision. She put the Cayenne in gear and followed. Traffic was a mess. It was all she could do to keep the Explorer in view while at the same time trying to remain unobtrusive. There was sweat on her face now, slipping down her forehead and dripping into her eyes; soaking the back of her shirt.
Despite CU’s apparent impatience with Crystal—or at least with the person he thought was Crystal—the man didn’t seem to be in that big of a rush to leave the neighborhood. Ali’s frantic reality slipped into a strange slow motion. Time seemed to stand still. She followed the SUV as the driver made his way back across Thomas and cruised around the hospital grounds, probably checking to see if Crystal was actually on her way. He stopped briefly at a passenger loading zone right next to the hospital entrance. For a heart-stopping moment, Ali was afraid he was going to leave the Explorer with the valet and go inside looking for Crystal. Finally, though, he drove away and headed west on Thomas. Hoping to stay out of sight, Ali delayed as long as she could before turning onto Thomas several car lengths back and following him into what was fast turning into afternoon gridlock.
Intent on her pursuit, Ali was startled when her phone rang while she was stopped at the light at 19th and Thomas. Grabbing it up, she was relieved to see Dave’s number in the readout.
“Court just recessed for today,” he told her. “I didn’t get called, which means I’ll have to be back here tomorrow. So where are you? Should I head for Phoenix or back home to Sedona?”
Ali was in full crisis mode, and the very sound of Dave’s calm, unruffled voice helped her get a grip.
“You should probably come on down to Phoenix—to the hospital,” she said.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, but you sound funny. Are you all right?”
Ali was a long way from all right. The light changed and traffic inched toward the freeway, but the Explorer didn’t make it through on that cycle, and neither did Ali.
“I’m stuck in traffic,” she said. “And I need your help.”
“Name it.”
“I need you to run a plate for me.”
“Run a plate?” Dave repeated. “Have you switched over to cop lingo now?”
Ali read off the letters and number. “Please,” she added when she finished. “Just run it.”
“You realize it’s against regulations to run a plate for private use?”
Ali took a deep breath. “It’s about Crystal,” she said.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
Ali hung up. The Explorer turned onto the eastbound I-10 entrance ramp at Thomas and waited for the metered traffic light to allow it to merge onto the crowded freeway. Ali followed suit. Once on the freeway, the Explorer cut in and out of traffic, forcing Ali to do the same. Even so, it took the better part of an anxiety-ridden hour of nail-biting to travel from there to where the Explorer exited onto eastbound U.S. 60.
While she waited for Dave to call back, Ali worried about what she would tell him. She had used a possible connection to Crystal to galvanize him to action. Ali knew that sooner or later she would have to tell him what was really going on with his wayward daughter. Crystal wasn’t ever going to tell him. That would be up to Ali. Between worrying about telling Dave about Crystal’s issues and dreading the coming confrontation with the driver of the Explorer, Ali’s stress level was off the charts.
“Got it,” Dave said when he finally called back. “The 2001 Ford Explorer belongs to Curtis Wilson Uttley of 101 Blue Spruce Circle, Flagstaff, Arizona. Who is he? What’s going on?”
So CU was Curtis Uttley. That made sense, but before Ali could answer, she realized that the Explorer was headed for the exit ramp at McClintock. With traffic the way it was, Ali realized she could either drive or talk. She couldn’t do both.
“Thanks, Dave,” she said. “I’ll have to get back to you.”
At the light, the Explorer turned right on the red and headed south. Unfortunately, the vehicle two cars in front of Ali decided to go straight through the intersection. Ali was forced to wait interminably until the light finally turned green. By the time she made the corner, the Explorer had vanished.
For the next several minutes, Ali cruised the neighborhood streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of where the Explorer had gone. A Roto-Rooter truck was parked in front of one of the houses, but that was the only sign of life. Ali saw
no pedestrians on the street, no joggers or kids out riding bikes, no people she could have asked for help in tracking down exactly where the missing SUV had gone.
Shaking with a combination of frayed nerves, letdown, and frustration, Ali eventually had to give it up and head back to Phoenix. On the way, she picked up her phone and called Dave back.
He answered right away. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I was driving,” she said. “Traffic was bad.”
“Tell me about Curtis Uttley’s vehicle. Where did you spot it? Was he driving it or was somebody else?”
“I was following it, but I lost it over in Tempe,” Ali said. “And I have no idea who was driving it. I couldn’t see inside. Why?”
“Because that vehicle is listed on a BOLO, a be-on-the-lookout-for, in a missing persons case out of Flagstaff,” Dave said. “Curtis Uttley reportedly left there on Tuesday night, supposedly to visit one of the casinos down in Scottsdale. He evidently has a bit of a gambling problem. His wife didn’t bother reporting him missing until today. Now tell me,” Dave added. “What’s going on?”
Ali felt her heart constrict as she found herself wondering if the CU who had been sending text messages to Crystal’s phone had been someone else and not the real Curtis Uttley at all. She had been pretending to be Crystal. Maybe someone else had been pretending to be Curtis Uttley. Clearly turnabout was fair play.
“I’m afraid this particular missing person may have far more serious problems than gambling,” Ali said.
“Why?” Dave asked. “What makes you say that?”
Ali didn’t answer directly. “Are you on your way here now?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” Dave said. “Why?”
“Because,” Ali told him. “We need to talk.”
Ali returned to the hospital to find Madeline Havens gone. Crystal was closeted with Detective Farris in a small conference room just off the lobby, and Bob Larson was still commiserating with Sandy Mitchell. If there had been any change in Kip’s situation, no one had bothered to come let Sandy know. That was where things stood when Edie Larson appeared on the scene.
