by D P Lyle
“So her absence didn’t really alarm you?”
“No. I thought she was simply ill or busy.”
“I wish it were that simple.”
She picked up a blue ballpoint and clicked it a couple of times. “Want to explain that?”
The whole truth and nothing but the truth wouldn’t work here. Just some version of it. “She told friends she was going away. To Colorado. Hiking. With some dude that no one seems to know. That was a week ago. No evidence she actually did that and her cell phone is essentially dead.” Cain opened his palms toward her. “So I think you can see why her grandparents are worried.”
“And they hired you?”
Cain nodded.
“Who are you?”
“I investigate things. I fix problems. The General and I go back to our military days.”
She nodded. Clicked the pen a few more times.
“I understand privacy rules,” Cain said. “Appreciate them. Respect them. But I’m not here to invade Cindy’s life—any more than is necessary. But I fear she’s either in serious trouble or something untoward has happened.”
“Untoward? I hate that word. So euphemistic.”
Cain shrugged. “Seems appropriate here.”
“Code for she could be dead? Is that it? You think she’s been abducted? Maybe murdered?”
“That’s one fear. Or that she’s somewhere against her will and needs help.”
“Lord.” Two more clicks of the pen. “I never suspected anything like that.”
“What I need to know is what she was like. From your perspective.”
She stared at her desktop for a full half minute, obviously wrestling with what she could, or should, say. Hold to the rules and regs, or do the right thing? Finally, she looked up. “Smart, tough competitor, hard worker, dedicated. Reliable.”
“So her disappearance goes against character?”
“That would be my take. She’s just finishing her sophomore year so she’s been on the team for two seasons now. I’ve seen nothing but focus and hard work.”
“Which I assume means you don’t believe she’d run off somewhere and not tell anyone.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Neither can her grandparents. Which fits with what I’ve learned of her so far.” Cain sighed. “So it leaves us with a decidedly uglier picture.”
She dropped the pen. It clacked against the desktop. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’ve talked to her roommate already. Not much help.” Not exactly the truth but Cain saw no need to get into that here and now. “Can you think of anything that might help? Her habits? Where she might have gone? Or with who?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Cain gave her his number and she promised to call if she thought of or heard anything that might help.
Cain had time before he was to meet Harper so he made two more stops: Southern Hospitality, where Cindy had waitressed, and Talk To Me, the crisis center where she volunteered. At the former, he talked with manager Missy Mulligan, and at the latter owner Craig Williams. Each told a story similar to that of Coach Olivia Johnston. Cindy was hard working, dedicated, dependable, and would never simply disappear.
Dead ends. But not completely. Each had reinforced his belief that something had happened to Cindy. She hadn’t run away, or fallen in love and eloped, or gone away with some high roller for a week of sex and fun. And money. Of those choices, the latter would be the most likely but Cain didn’t buy it. Not the Cindy Grant he pictured. Even if she were off on some sex junket, she would have called—someone. The Kesslers, Kelly, someone.
And then there were Cindy’s fingerprints. Kessler had told him that he believed Cindy had been printed as part of her job at the crises center. Cain had asked Craig Williams about it.
“Yeah, we require all our employees to be printed. Background checks, the whole thing.”
“Makes sense.”
“Don’t want anyone with a criminal or psychiatric record working here. So we have everyone visit the Nashville PD and get printed. They run the prints through their databases. To make sure we don’t have any surprises down the road.”
Good news. If a body were found, any prints could determine if it was Cindy or not. Cain hated that ugly truth. That a body recovery, not a rescue of a kidnapped girl, was the likely outcome. After a week of silence, the odds of Cindy being alive were progressively diminishing.
CHAPTER 13
The place Ella Hamilton chose to meet was The Blue Plate Café, a diner just off campus. Sort of a cross between 50s retro and a country kitchen. Crowded and noisy, it was obviously popular with the college crowd.
When Harper arrived, she saw Ella sitting in a booth along a row of windows that looked out on the gravel parking area. Alone. Cup of coffee before her. Her thick, brown hair was slightly longer than on her Facebook page but her over-sized brown eyes were just as captivating. Like Kelly and Cindy, young and beautiful, Ella was even more so. Nashville had more than its share of attractive young ladies, but Ella had that thing—that electric beauty that made young men do stupid stuff. And attracted the attention of predators. Like Adam and his crew.
“Ella?” Harper asked as she approached.
She nodded.
Harper sat across from her. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“I thought I was meeting with Mister Cain,” she said. “That’s what Kelly said.”
“We’re partners.” Harper smiled. Ella didn’t. “We’re also siblings.”
“Really?”
“So we go way back. Talking to one of us is talking to both.” Ella didn’t respond so Harper continued. “I’m glad you came.”
“I almost didn’t,” Ella said. “And I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.” She took a sip of coffee. “I hope I don’t regret it.”
“It’ll be okay. Your secrets are safe with us.”
“How do I know that? I don’t even know you.”
“I understand. Just trust me. I’ll keep you off the radar. Completely.”
She didn’t respond.
“Ella? You okay?”
“No. I’m scared.”
“Of Adam and his partner?”
“Yes. And now with Cindy missing….” She sniffed. “Why the hell did I ever get involved with these guys?”
“We all do things that in hindsight look stupid, or crazy, even dangerous.”
“I think this would meet all those criteria.”
A waitress appeared. Young, probably a college kid, brown hair pulled into a bun, round glasses that made her look smart. If she went to Vandy, she probably was.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“Just coffee. Black,” Harper said.
She walked away but returned in a few seconds, glass pot in one hand, a cup dangling from a finger. She filled it, topped off Ella’s cup, and left.
“Tell me how you got into this?” Harper asked.
Ella hesitated, as if considering what to say, if anything. She took a sip of coffee, glanced around. “Adam I knew. Casually, anyway. Saw him around a lot. We had lunch one day. He asked if I wanted to make some serious money. Sure, why not.” She ran a finger around the lip of her cup. Shook her head. “So stupid.”
Harper waited her out. Letting her gather her thoughts. Tell it her way.
“At first, I told him no way. That I wasn’t for sale.”
“But?”
“He told me I could make a couple of grand a night.” Another sip. “Doesn’t seem like enough now. Anyway, Adam hooked me up with a guy. The one that actually set up the dates.”
“And he is?” Harper asked.
“Carlos Campos.”
“He a student, too?”
“Not that I know.”
“But he ran the show?”
“Seemed that way. I don’t know if he had other partners.”
“Did you meet him?”
“Only once. Very briefly.” Ella twisted a strand of hair with one fi
nger. “He was with these two other guys. Tough looking. Also Hispanic. He, Carlos, did all the talking.”
“Did you get the names of the other guys?”
Ella shook her head. “No. They sort of stood to the side. Didn’t say a word.”
“Like bodyguards or something?”
“Exactly. Carlos seemed normal. Not a bad looking guy. But those two made me uncomfortable.”
“So let me get this straight—is it Adam or Carlos or both that set everything up?”
“Carlos. Adam was more or less out of the picture once I started seeing clients. At least I never really talked to him again.”
So, Adam was the procurer and Carlos the pimp. She wondered if Adam’s parents had any clue what their son’s side job was. Not likely.
“How did this work?” Harper asked. “Carlos would call and tell you where to be and what time?”
“Exactly. Usually it’d be the same day. The place was either a local hotel or maybe a motel just out of town.” She shrugged. “Most of the guys were married so I guess they felt a remote motel made it safer. For them, anyway.” She stared at her coffee for a few seconds. “But I never liked leaving the city. Motels seemed less safe.”
“I understand you never went on a weekend trip. Is that correct?”
“Yes. Again, everything seemed safer if it was local. Short term, so to speak.”
“I understand you finally agreed to take a trip but in the end bailed?”
“This guy was a true creep. Old, mostly bald, fat, thick lips, puffy cheeks, bad teeth. Dandruff everywhere.” She looked around again. “He looked dirty.” She continued to wind the strand of hair near her right ear. “Made me feel dirty.”
There it was. End of the road. Where most young ladies who made such choices ended up. What seemed like easy money became something else again. Ella’s eyes glistened with moisture.
“And Carlos took issue with you refusing the trip?” Harper asked.
“That would be an understatement. He called. All agro, angry. Threatened me. Said I was damaging his reputation.” She gave a head shake. “His reputation? Can you imagine?”
“Some folks have a warped self-image.”
She actually smiled at that. Briefly. “So the calls and the break in—I’m sure it was him—or one of those guys he was with.”
“Do you know how to reach Carlos? A number or anything?”
She shook her head. “No. He would call when he had a job for me. Give me the info. That’s it. I never had a way to contact him.”
“No caller ID number I take it.”
“His number was always blocked.”
A burner phone most likely. Standard MO for pimps and drug dealers and other gutter crawlers.
“What if something came up?” Harper asked. “You had to cancel the date? You had no way to reach him?”
“That never came up, but if it had I would’ve called Adam. Let him pass the word to Carlos.”
“When did you last hear from Carlos?”
“When all this went down. The last call I got was the one where he threatened me. That was a couple of months ago.” She scooted the nearly empty cup to her left and folded her hands before her. Her fingers were long and thin, nails painted a light pink, a gold ring with a small opal on her right middle finger. “I think he finally got bored with fucking with me. After the break in.”
“Probably felt he had delivered his message.”
“Maybe. I hope so, anyway.” Another glance around. “But I can tell you, I still look over my shoulder. And stay away from dark alleys.”
“Wise move.”
“Do you think he did something to Cindy?” Ella asked.
“I don’t know. Possible.”
“Dear God, I hope not.”
“Me, too.”
She sighed. “What now?”
“For you, nothing. We’ll need to keep digging.” Her eyes widened and she started to say something but Harper raised a hand. “Don’t worry. This conversation never happened. That goes both ways. Don’t tell anyone about this. Okay? Not anyone.”
“No problem there. I never want to see that guy again. Never ever.” She twisted the opal ring back and forth. “What are you going to do?”
“Whatever’s necessary.”
“Meaning?”
Harper shrugged. “Nothing that’ll come back on you. That I promise.”
CHAPTER 14
Cain waited for Harper’s call. When it came, she was in her car on the way back home. Cain called Captain Bradford, who said General Kessler had called, saying Cain might drop by and that now was as good a time as any. He hadn’t sounded enthusiastic, or thrilled. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he didn’t appreciate civilians sticking their noses in his business. But at least he hadn’t said no.
Cain swung by the condo and picked up Harper. Cain’s S550 Mercedes navigated the downtown traffic and then they sped out US 70 toward the Nashville PD’s Headquarters. He felt the need to hurry in case Bradford changed his mind. He didn’t expect the meeting would yield anything useful. After all, Bradford hadn’t offered any news when they spoke. And Kessler would have called had Bradford given him any useful updates. This visit was more to get an inroad to someone in the system they could call on down the road if necessary. Judging from Bradford’s attitude, that might be a pipe dream.
As Cain snaked through the thick freeway traffic, he asked Harper, “How was your chat with Ella?”
“Interesting. Similar story as Kelly. Adam Parker recruited her into the business but after that seemed to fade into the background. Guy named Carlos Campos actually ran things. Set up the dates, that sort of thing.”
“She have any insight into their relationship? Parker and this Carlos?”
“Not really.”
“So, Parker’s the talent scout and Carlos the pimp.”
“That’s how I read it,” Harper said. “Maybe Captain Bradford has some info on them.”
“Might be best to leave him out of this.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know him. Don’t know where he stands on crimes like this. He might not give a shit. Or worse, might be a zealot.” He glanced at Harper. “I don’t want Adam Parker or Carlos to know we’re snooping into their lives. If Bradford makes a move, it might put them on alert.”
“Good thought. I agree.”
“Digging into Parker and Carlos is the key.”
“I don’t get it,” Harper said. “These girls—Cindy and Ella and Kelly—they’re pretty, bright, come from good families it seems. Not hurting for money. Why would they do this?”
Cain shrugged. “Excitement? Pushing the envelope? Why do kids that age do half of what they do?” He smiled. “Our childhood wasn’t exactly legal.”
She laughed. “Our adulthood either.”
They found an empty slot near the front door. The officer behind the entry desk found their names on his clipboard and then led them down a short hallway to Captain Lee Bradford’s office. After introductions, they sat facing him over his desk.
“Thanks for seeing us, Captain,” Cain said.
“Like I said, General Kessler called. Asked if I’d talk with you.”
“I assume you have no new information on Cindy Grant’s disappearance?”
“Nope. No new and no old information. Nothing at all. Don’t expect to either. You ask me, she probably ran off somewhere.”
“Everyone we’ve talked to said that would be out of character for her,” Cain said.
Bradford smoothed his tie; red, over a crisp white shirt. “With college kids, you never know. Besides, she’s an adult. No way I could open a file on an adult that just wants to disappear.”
“If that’s what happened,” Harper said.
“True. But without some evidence of a crime or some kind of foul play, I’m afraid my hands are tied.”
“I understand,” Cain said. “Let me ask you—do you get many abductions around here? Young women?”
“That
depends. Most often, when it looks like someone might’ve been taken, they show up. Pissed at Mom and Dad.” He waved a hand. “That kind of thing.”
Cain nodded. “Those aside, do you get many that are actually abducted?”
“Sure. Nashville’s like any other big city. Bad stuff happens.”
“Any unknown females pop up in the past week or so?” Harper asked.
“Two. One was younger than Cindy Grant. Twelve. Still hasn’t been located. The other was sixteen. Black girl. She was found three days ago. In a dumpster. Finally got an ID yesterday. Local prostitute. Had a sheet so we were able to match her prints. Looks like her pimp is the culprit.” He scratched his chin. “Then I know a corpse—actually part of one—was found down near Moss Landing. Earlier today.”
“Female?” Harper asked.
“That’s what I hear.”
“You said partial?” Cain asked.
“Yeah, the scuttlebutt is that she’d been dead a while. Apparently the corpse had been feasted on by wild pigs.”
“Moss Landing? Down by Tims Ford Lake?”
“Yep. But I know the remains have been transported here. I think the ME will do the autopsy in the morning.”
“Any ID on the remains?” Harper asked.
“Not yet. I guess it’ll mostly depend on what body parts were found. Hopefully the ME can tell us something.”
“Mind if we drop by the autopsy?” Cain asked.
Bradford hesitated. Considering. Cain knew that would break a bunch of rules, but hoped that the General’s name in all this would help. It did.
“Since it’s General Kessler that hired you, and since we have no ID on the remains, I suspect we can work that out. If it’s on the QT.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see if the ME is in concurrence and give you a call in the morning.”
“Appreciate it.”
CHAPTER 15
He had finished his work early. Mid afternoon. He returned her to the cage and put away his instruments. Said he had some business to attend to, but might be back later. Or maybe not till morning. Part of the game. Never letting her know when he would return. Then he left, securing the door behind him.
