by D P Lyle
“It’s a word.”
Cutler gave him a skeptical look.
“What? It is.”
She shook her head. “Wouldn’t try to use that in a game of Scrabble.”
“What about that teenager?” Jimmy asked. “The one that disappeared four, five weeks ago?”
“They found her. Hitched up to see grandma in Michigan. Traverse City, if I recall.” She looked at Rankin. “Didn’t you get that memo?”
“Probably on my desk somewhere.”
“It’s the somewhere that’s the operative word here.”
Jimmy Rankin wasn’t one to fuss with keeping his office neat. Desk, book shelves, even a couple of chairs were stacked with papers and books and probably a few living things. Looked like Dresden, 1945. It was a department joke—one of the secretaries had even put a Hazmat sign on his office door—and Cutler never missed a chance to give him a ration about it.
“I could get the fire department to come over and hose it down, if you want,” she said.
“I got my own system. I know where everything is.”
The irony was that he did. Could always pull whatever she asked for from the rubble.
“What now?” Rankin asked.
Cutler looked down, kicked at a loose stone, sending it tumbling. She looked up at the sky. “I don’t know for sure.” She eyed Rankin. “Since we don’t know who this was, I’m not sure we have anywhere to look. Not yet anyway.”
That was the truth of it. Unidentified victims offered no clear path for investigation. You never knew which way to look, who to talk to, much less create anything resembling a suspect list. They were stuck on square one with no dice to roll.
“Maybe the ME can help us out there,” Rankin said.
“Let’s hope.”
CHAPTER 9
To gather intel, best to start at ground zero. Cindy Grant’s roommate Kelly Whitt. Harper called her as they drove back toward Nashville, catching Kelly between classes. She said she was headed to her last session of the day and would meet them after at the Starbucks on the Vanderbilt campus, off 21st Avenue near the famous Music Row.
That gave Cain and Harper time to review the materials Kessler had given them.
They parked a block away. Once inside, the heat of the day evaporated under the cranked-up air-conditioning. Cain assessed the room. Coffee bar at one end, several students in line to place their orders. A cluster of high tables and stools in the middle, many filled with small groups or individuals working their computers and iPads, thumbs dancing on phones. Along the far wall sat a series of deep, comfortable chairs and small, round coffee tables. These were mostly empty.
Cain grabbed a Venti dark roast and a blueberry muffin; Harper, a mocha and a yogurt parfait. They settled in the comfy chairs near one corner. That gave them a view of the room and the entrance and placed them far enough from other activity to allow some semblance of privacy. Not ideal, but Harper had said she wanted Kelly to feel relaxed, not threatened. And this apparently was a place Kelly considered home turf.
Two girls walked by, one complaining to the other about a professor. Apparently he expected her to study and come to class prepared. The nerve.
They tuned out the chatter as best they could and opened the file folder Kessler had given them. An 8X10 photo of Cindy Grant greeted them. Blonde, blue-eyed, a beauty. A welcoming, wholesome smile. Behind the photo were a half-dozen loose pages. The first had Cindy’s vital info. Birthdate, current address, cell number, driver’s license info, car registration, college transcripts.
Cindy was 20, lived in an apartment just off campus, and drove a three series BMW. Finishing her sophomore year. Majoring in graphic design with a minor in communication. Straight As according to her grade printouts. She ran on the cross-country team, waitressed part time at a popular restaurant called Southern Hospitality, and volunteered with a crisis hotline outfit called Talk To Me. Busy girl. And apparently on a straight and narrow path to success.
Another page contained info on Kelly. A 3X5 photo was stapled to the page. Cindy and another girl, standing side by side. Someone had handwritten “Cindy-Kelly” near the bottom. Kelly was also a beauty. Long dark hair, green eyes, a mischievous smile. Each wore jeans and halter tops and stood next to an ATV, which rested on a rutted dirt trail that slanted away into a grassy pasture, a thick stand of pines in the far field. Apparently taken late in the day as the sunlight slashed from their left, darkening half of their faces, casting long, lean shadows to their right. The typed page showed that Kelly, like Cindy, was 20 and a sophomore. She also worked part time at Southern Hospitality.
The next page was a handwritten list of the folks Kessler had contacted. His script was elegant, yet strong. No flourishes. No bull.
Kelly Whitt—roommate
Captain Lee Bradford—Nashville PD
Missy Mulligan—Manager, Southern Hospitality
Craig Williams—owner/director Talk To Me
Olivia Johnston—track coach
Cain finished the muffin and sipped the dregs of his coffee as he mulled what he had read. Cindy seemed to be a normal college girl. Pretty, smart, athletic. Worked when she didn’t really have to, did community service. No wonder her grandparents were so proud of her. The classic overachiever. A lot on her plate.
Kelly, on paper, seemed to be cut from similar cloth. But he’d reserve judgement until they chatted with her.
Cain glanced at his watch. She was fifteen minutes late. Did she get cold feet? Decide that talking with a stranger about Cindy might not be the best tact? He hadn’t gotten that impression over the phone. When he said that General Kessler suggested they talk, she seemed completely on board. Even eager to do so.
“She’s late,” he said.
“She’s a college kid,” Harper said. “Give her time.”
Then he saw her. Standing just inside the front door, gaze flitting over the crowd. He gave her a small wave and she headed their way.
“Kelly?”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Bobby Cain. This is Harper McCoy.”
She nodded, slipped her backpack from her shoulder, settling it on the coffee table to her left, and sat across from them. “Sorry I’m late. My prof got longwinded today.”
“No problem,” Harper said. “Thanks for coming.”
“You said you wanted to chat about Cindy. Has something happened?”
That seemed an odd question. Cindy had been missing for a week.
“She’s missing, if that qualifies as something.”
Kelly hesitated a beat. “She’s in Colorado. Hiking.”
“So you’ve talked to her?” Cain asked. “Recently?”
“No. Not since she left.” She looked around. “Who are you again?”
“Bobby Cain. Harper McCoy. We’ve been asked by Cindy’s grandfather to see if we can find her. The General and his wife are worried. He said she’s very good about keeping in touch. And they’ve heard nothing.”
Kelly brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “She’s hiking. Probably doesn’t have cell coverage up there.” She shrugged. “And he does worry about her a lot. Too much, I think.”
“Does Cindy?” Harper asked. “Think he’s too smothering? Anything like that?”
She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Who’d she go with on this trip?” Cain asked.
“Some dude.”
“He have a name? This dude?”
“I’m not sure I like your tone,” she said. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest.
“He’s mostly harmless,” Harper said.
Cain smiled. “The General is very worried. He fears something might’ve happened to her.” She didn’t respond so Cain went on. “All we’re asking is if you know the guy she supposedly took off with?”
“No. All she said was that she met this cute guy and they were going to Colorado.”
“Is he a student?”
“She didn’t say.�
�
“And no name, I take it?”
She shook her head.
“To summarize,” Cain said, “she left on some trip to Colorado with some guy and hasn’t been heard from for the past week?”
“That’s about it,” Kelly said.
No, that wasn’t about it. The forced innocence on her face, the way her eyes cut away for a brief moment, the hand that increased its grip on the chair arm. Kelly was lying. She knew more.
“And you’re not worried?” Harper asked.
Her brow wrinkled, her gaze dropping toward the floor. “Not really.”
Cain tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “How did she get to Colorado? Drive?”
“No. Her car’s still at the apartment. She probably flew.”
“She didn’t. Or take a bus or a train.”
“How do you know that?”
“We know. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Whatever.” She looked away, as if buying time. Then she said, “Maybe the dude drove.”
Her lying was now even more obvious. Face, body language, lame ass answers. She hadn’t thought this through well enough to create a believable story. Or deliver it well.
Cain sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Time to crank up the heat. “You’re lying.”
“What? I am not.”
He held her gaze. “You’re lying. I want to know why.”
“I don’t have to do this.” She grabbed the strap of her backpack and started to stand.
“No, you don’t. But let me tell you what will happen if you walk out of here.”
She halted, settling back in the chair. Her eyes wide now. He’d at least gotten her attention.
“We’ll begin to dissect your life. Your friends, your family, your professors, your employers over at Southern Hospitality. Anyone and everyone you know.”
“You can’t do that.”
“We can and we will,” Harper said. She gathered in Kelly’s gaze, held it. “Or we can quietly go about our business and do our job off the radar.”
“Which is?”
“Finding Cindy,” Cain said. “By whatever means are necessary.”
Kelly’s eyes moistened. She glanced around the room. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Kelly, it’s not about you. And it’s not just you. We’re simply starting here. Because you know Cindy as well as anyone. You live with her. You know her habits, her friends—and you know where she really went.”
“I don’t. I swear.”
Cain stared at her. Unwavering. No blinking.
Kelly’s gaze dropped to her hands, now folded in her lap. Her fingernails were painted a dark green and she worked one cuticle with her thumbnail.
“Kelly, listen to me,” Harper said. “We aren’t your enemies.” Kelly looked up. “We’re on the same side here. We, and the Kesslers, are afraid something’s happened to Cindy. Or she’s in trouble and needs help. I think you believe that, too.”
Kelly took a deep ragged breath, forked her hair back from her face. “This is so fucked.”
“Tell us,” Harper said.
Another raspy breath. “Something’s not right. I feel it. But I promised her I’d never say a word.”
“About what?” Cain asked.
She looked around the room again, then leaned forward. Her voice dropped a few decibels. “There’s this guy. He hooks up college girls for dates.”
“I see.”
“Mostly with older guys. But really all kinds.”
“Voice of experience here?” Harper said.
She sniffed. Nodded. “Only twice.” She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Made a ton of money but I just couldn’t do it. I really hated it.”
“I take it these dates involved sex?”
Tears collected in her eyes. “Yes.” She rummaged in her backpack, came out with a tissue, and dabbed each eye. “And trips. All over from what I hear.”
“And this is what Cindy did?” Cain asked.
She dabbed her left eye again. “She’s been seeing guys for six months.”
“I get the impression she doesn’t need money.”
“True. But this is her money. Not her grandparents’.”
“What are we talking about here? Money-wise?” Harper asked.
Kelly gave her a half smile. “Three or four grand a night. Ten or more for a trip.”
“Is that where Cindy is?” Cain asked. “On one of these trips?”
She nodded.
“How long? With who?”
“It was supposed to be for the weekend. When she didn’t return, I assumed the guy simply extended the date.”
“But now you’re not sure?”
Two girls came by. Talking, laughing. One gave us a quick glance but that was about it. Kelly waited for them to pass before responding.
“When I didn’t hear from her for a few days, I called the guy who set it up. He said she was heading to Europe with the guy.”
“She didn’t,” Cain said.
“How do you know?”
“Her passport. It hasn’t been used.”
“How do you know all this?”
“It’s our job to know,” Harper said.
“Who are you?”
“We told you. Interested parties. Hired by General Kessler.”
Cain smiled, adding, “Let’s say that we fix things. And right now we’re trying to solve a puzzle.”
Another ragged breath. Her lips trembled when she spoke. “What do you think?”
“What we think doesn’t matter,” Harper said. “It’s what actually happened that counts.”
Kelly nodded.
Harper leaned forward and laid a hand on Kelly’s arm. “We need for you to be honest here. Cindy’s life might depend on it.”
Kelly sniffed, nodded again.
Harper pressed on. “Who is this guy? The one that set up the date?”
Kelly looked around. “He comes in here a lot. Don’t see him now. His name’s Adam Parker. He’s a grad student.”
“Did he arrange your dates?”
She nodded. “Not directly. I mean, he’s the one I talked with. Cindy, too. But I think he has a partner or somebody who handles the money and arrangements. All I know is that I was told where to go and when to be there.”
“Hotels?” Cain asked.
“Both of my dates were.”
“Local?”
Another nod. “He asked me once about going away with some married guy. To Miami. I was scared. Told him I couldn’t.”
“Smart move,” Harper said.
“Are you going to go see him?” Kelly seemed animated now. Her eyes wide, gaze surveying the room as if she feared she was being watched.
“Any reason we shouldn’t?” Cain asked. He also scanned the room but saw no one locked on them or even giving them a second glance.
“Please don’t tell him we talked,” Kelly said. Almost pleading.
“We won’t.” Her shoulders and face seemed to relax, her relief evident. ”Why? Is he a bad guy?”
“Not him. His partner. So I hear.”
“Oh?” Harper said. “Care to expand on that?”
“Another girl I know. She went on several dates. One time she met a guy at the airport. Supposed to go to New York for the weekend. But the guy was a creep. She told him she wasn’t feeling well and split. Adam’s partner got all twisted out of shape. Made some threats.”
“Anything happen?”
“Not that she could prove. But she began getting a lot of hang up calls. Someone broke into her condo. Stole some jewelry and stuff.”
“Did she call the police?”
“She was too scared.” She let out a quick laugh. “Besides, what was she going to say? Her pimp stole from her?”
“We’d like to talk with her,” Cain said. “What’s her name?”
Kelly shook her head emphatically. “No way. She’s out of that world and wants nothing to do with it.”
“Migh
t be important.”
“No. I can’t do it.”
“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number,” Cain said. “You pass it to her and tell her to call if she’s willing to talk. Privately and completely confidential.”
She nodded. Cain gave her his number and she put it in her phone.
“What about Adam’s partner?” Harper asked. “Do you know his name?”
“No. I never saw him. All I ever heard was that his name is Carlos, I think.”
“I don’t want you to say a word about us,” Cain said. “Or this conversation. To anyone.”
“You can bet on that.”
“Except your friend who had the trouble with Adam’s partner,” Harper added.
“Okay.”
“Mainly, we don’t want this Adam guy to know who we are or what we’re doing. Got it?”
“What are you going to do?”
Cain smiled. “Best if you don’t know. And best if you don’t know us.”
“You’re not going to hurt him are you?”
“I’d rather not.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“Depends on whether he was involved in Cindy’s disappearance.” Cain glanced toward the front door where two young women came in, one laughing loudly. “But my gut tells me he was.”
Now Kelly forked the fingers of both hands through her hair. “This is a freaking nightmare.”
“Look, Cindy’s apparently involved in some dirty business,” Harper said. “You were smart enough to walk away. She wasn’t. Things don’t always go well for young ladies who move in those circles.”
“I suppose.”
“If we need any more info from you, we’ll call, or arrange a meet,” Cain said. “Somewhere private. If you hear anything or if Adam contacts you, play dumb. You know nothing. And call me.” She gave a single nod. “In fact, if you see him here, call me. Immediately. Okay?”
“And then what?”
“We’ll handle it from there.”
CHAPTER 10
No more mistakes. No more impulsive behavior. Focus.
He felt a lingering anger. With himself. So stupid.
First off, grabbing someone off the street. Even if she had presented herself right to his doorstep—so to speak. Car broken down. Lonely road. Late at night. No one around. It was all so easy.
