Ray responded without glancing at what he knew would be Keri’s disapproving glare.
“Ms. Penn, officially, your daughter is a minor and so typical missing person laws don’t apply as they would for an adult. We have broader authority to investigate. But speaking to you honestly, a teenage girl who isn’t responding to her mother’s texts and isn’t home less than two hours after school lets out— that’s not going to command the kind of immediate response you’re hoping for. At this point there’s not much we can do. In a situation like this, your best bet is to come down to the station and file a report. You should absolutely do that. There’s no harm in it and it could expedite things if we need to ramp up resources.”
There was a long pause before Mia Penn responded. Her voice had a sharp edge that wasn’t there before.
“How long do I have to wait before you ‘ramp up,’ Detective?” she demanded. “Is two more hours enough? Do I have to wait until it gets dark? Until she’s not home in the morning? I’ll bet that if I was—”
Whatever Mia Penn was about to say, she stopped herself, as if she knew that anything else she added would be counterproductive. Ray was about to respond but Keri held up her hand and gave him her patented “let me handle this” look.
“Listen, Ms. Penn, this is Detective Locke again. You said you live in the Canals, right? That’s on my way home. Give me your e-mail address. I’ll send you the missing persons form. You can get started on it and I’ll stop by to help you finish it up and expedite getting it in the system. How does that sound?”
“It sounds good, Detective Locke. Thank you.”
“No problem. And hey, maybe Ashley will be home by the time I get there and I can give her a stern lecture on keeping her mom better informed—free of charge.”
Keri gathered her purse and keys, preparing to head to the Penn house.
Ray hadn’t said a word since they’d hung up. She knew he was silently seething but she refused to look up. If he caught her eye, then she’d be the one getting the lecture and she wasn’t in the mood.
But Ray apparently didn’t need to make eye contact to say his piece.
“The Canals are not on your way home.”
“They’re only a little out of my way,” she insisted, still not looking up. “So I’ll have to wait until six thirty to get back to the marina and Olivia Pope and associates. No big deal.”
Ray exhaled and leaned back in his chair.
“It is a big deal. Keri, you’ve been a detective here almost a year now. I like having you as my partner. And you’ve done some great work, even before you got your shield. The Gonzales case, for example. I don’t think I could have solved that one and I’ve been investigating these cases for a decade longer than you. You have a kind of sixth sense about these things. That’s why we used you as a resource in the old days. And it’s why you have the potential to be a truly great detective.”
“Thanks,” she said, though she knew he wasn’t finished.
“But you have one major weakness and it’s going to ruin you if you don’t get a handle on it. You have got to let the system work. It’s here for a reason. Seventy-five percent of our job will work itself out in the first twenty-four hours without our help. We need to let that happen and concentrate on the other twenty-five percent. If we don’t, we end up running ourselves ragged. We become unproductive, or worse—counterproductive. And then we’re betraying the people who really end up needing us. It’s part of our job to choose our battles.”
“Ray, I’m not ordering an Amber Alert or anything. I’m just helping a worried mother fill out some paperwork. And truly, it’s only fifteen minutes out of my way.”
“And…” he said expectantly.
“And there was something in her voice. She’s holding something back. I just want to talk to her face to face. It might be nothing. And if it is, I’ll leave.”
Ray shook his head and tried one more time.
“How many hours did you waste on that homeless kid in Palms you were certain had gone missing but hadn’t? Fifteen?”
Keri shrugged.
“Better safe than sorry,” she muttered under her breath.
“Better employed than discharged for inappropriate use of department resources,” he countered.
“It’s after five,” Keri said.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m off the clock. And that mother is waiting for me.”
“It would appear that you’re never off the clock. Call her back, Keri. Tell her to e-mail the forms back when she’s done. Tell her to call here if she has any questions. But go home.”
She’d been as patient as she could but as far as she was concerned, the conversation was over.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Clean,” she said, giving him a squeeze on the arm.
As she headed for the parking lot and her ten-year-old silver Toyota Prius, she tried to remember the quickest shortcut to the Venice Canals. She already felt an urgency she didn’t understand.
One she didn’t like.
CHAPTER TWO
Monday
Late Afternoon
Keri threaded the Prius through rush hour traffic to the western edge of Venice, driving faster than she meant to. Something was driving her, a gut feeling rising up, one she didn’t like.
The Canals were only a few blocks from tourist hot spots like the Boardwalk and Muscle Beach and it took ten minutes of driving up and down Pacific Avenue before she finally found a spot to park. She hopped out and let her phone direct her the rest of the way on foot.
The Venice Canals weren’t just a name for a neighborhood. They were a real series of man-made canals built in the early twentieth century, and modeled after the originals in Italy. They covered about ten square blocks just south of Venice Boulevard. A few of the homes that lined the waterways were modest, but most were extravagant in a beachy way. The lots were generally small but some of the homes were easily worth eight figures.
The one Keri arrived at was among the most impressive. It was three stories high, and only the top floor was visible due to the high stucco wall that surrounded it. She walked around from the back, which faced the canal, to the front door. As she did, she noticed multiple security cameras on the mansion walls and the house itself. Several of them seemed to be tracking her movements.
Why does a twenty-something mom with a teenage daughter live here? And why such heavy security?
She reached the wrought-iron gate in front and was surprised to find it open. She stepped through and was about to knock on the front door when it opened from the inside.
A woman stepped out to meet her, wearing frayed jeans and a white tank top, with long, thick brown hair and bare feet. As Keri suspected from hearing her on the phone, she couldn’t have been more than thirty. About Keri’s height and easily twenty pounds lighter, she was tanned and fit. And she was gorgeous, despite the anxious expression on her face.
Keri’s first thought was trophy wife.
“Mia Penn?” Keri asked.
“Yes. Please come in, Detective Locke. I’ve already filled out the forms you sent.”
Inside, the mansion opened into a commanding foyer, with two matching marble staircases leading to an upper level. There was almost enough room to play a Lakers game. The interior was immaculate, with art covering every wall and sculptures adorning carved wooden tables that looked like they might be art as well.
The whole place looked like it could be featured on a moment’s notice in Homes That Make You Question Your Self-Worth magazine. Keri recognized one prominently placed painting as a Delano, meaning that all by itself, it was worth more than the pathetic twenty-year-old houseboat she called home.
Mia Penn guided her to one of the more casual living rooms and offered her a seat and a bottled water. In the corner of the room, a thickly built man in slacks and a sport jacket leaned casually against the wall. He didn’t say anything but his eyes never left Keri. She noticed a small bulge on his right hip under the jack
et.
Gun. Must be security.
Once Keri sat, her hostess didn’t waste any time.
“Ashley’s still not answering my calls or texts. She hasn’t tweeted since school let out. No new Facebook posts. Nothing on Instagram.” She exhaled and added, “Thanks for coming. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me.”
Keri nodded slowly, studying Mia Penn, trying to get a sense of her. Just as on the phone, the barely concealed panic felt real.
She seems to genuinely fear for her daughter. But she’s holding something back.
“You’re younger than I expected,” Keri finally said.
“I’m thirty. I had Ashley when I was fifteen.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what everyone says. I feel like because we’re so close in age, we have this connection. I swear sometimes I know what she’s feeling even before I see her. I know it sounds ridiculous but we have this bond. And I know it’s not evidence but I can feel that something’s wrong.”
“Let’s not panic quite yet,” Keri said.
They went over the facts.
The last time Mia saw Ashley was that morning. Everything was fine. She had yogurt with granola and sliced strawberries for breakfast. She’d left for school in a good mood.
Ashley’s best friend was Thelma Gray. Mia called her when Ashley didn’t show up after school. According to Thelma, Ashley was in third-period geometry like she was supposed to be and everything seemed normal. The last time she saw Ashley was in the hall around 2 PM. She had no idea why Ashley didn’t make it home.
Mia had also spoken to Ashley’s boyfriend, a jock-type named Denton Rivers. He said he saw Ashley in school in the morning but that was it. He texted her a few times after school but she never answered.
Ashley didn’t take any medications; she had no physical ailments to speak of. Mia said she’d gone through Ashley’s room earlier in the afternoon and everything was normal.
Keri scribbled it all down on a little pad, making specific note of names she’d follow up with later.
“My husband should be home from the office any minute. I know he wants to speak with you as well.”
Keri looked up from her pad. Something in Mia’s voice had changed. It sounded more guarded, cautious.
Whatever she’s hiding, I bet it’s related to this.
“And what’s your husband’s name?” she asked, trying to keep it light.
“His name’s Stafford.”
“Wait a minute,” Keri said. “Your husband is Stafford Penn, as in United States Senator Stafford Penn?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of important information, Mrs. Penn. Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“Stafford asked me not to,” she said apologetically.
“Why?”
“He said he’d like to address that with you when he arrived.”
“When did you say he’d be here again?”
“Less than ten minutes, for sure.”
Keri looked at her hard, trying to decide whether to push. Ultimately, she chose to hold off for now.
“Do you have a picture of Ashley?”
Mia Penn handed over her phone. The background photo was of a teenage girl in a sundress. She looked like Mia’s younger sister. Other than Ashley having blonde hair, they were hard to tell apart. Ashley was slightly taller, with a more athletic frame and a deeper tan. The dress couldn’t hide her muscular legs and powerful shoulders. Keri suspected she was a regular surfer.
“Could she just have forgotten about the appointment and be out catching waves?” Keri asked.
Mia smiled for the first time since Keri met her.
“I’m impressed, Detective. You made that guess based on one picture? No, Ashley likes to surf in the mornings—better swells and fewer troublemakers. I checked the garage just in case. Her board’s in there.”
“Can you send me that photo as well as a few close-ups with and without makeup?”
While Mia did that, Keri asked another question.
“Where does she go to school?”
“West Venice High.”
Keri couldn’t hide her surprise. She knew the place well. It was a large public high school, a melting pot of thousands of kids, with everything that entailed. She had arrested many a student who attended West Venice.
Why the hell is the wealthy daughter of a US senator going there instead of a fancy private school?
Mia must have read the surprise on Keri’s face.
“Stafford’s never liked it. He’s always wanted her in private schools, on track to Harvard, where he went. But it wasn’t just for better academics. He also wanted better security,” she said. “I’ve always wanted her in public schools, to be in the mix of real kids where she could learn about real life. It’s one of the few battles I’ve actually won with him. If Ashley ends up hurt because of something at school, it will be my fault.”
Keri wanted to nip that kind of thinking in the bud fast.
“One—Ashley is going to be fine. Two—if anything were to happen to her it would the fault of the person who hurt her, not the mother who loves her.”
Keri watched to see if Mia Penn bought it but she couldn’t tell. The truth was, her reassurance was intended to keep a valuable resource from falling apart more than to buck her up. She decided to press on.
“Let’s talk about that for a second. Is there anyone who would want to hurt her, or you or Stafford, for that matter?”
“Ashley, no; me, no; Stafford, nothing specific that I’m aware of, other than what comes with the territory of doing what he does. I mean he gets death threats from constituents who claim to be aliens. So it’s hard to know what to take seriously. “
“And no one’s called demanding ransom, right?”
The sudden stress on the woman’s face was palpable.
“Is that what you think this is?”
“No, no, no, I’m just covering the bases. I don’t think it’s anything yet. These are all just routine questions.”
“No. There have been no ransom demands.”
“You obviously have some money—”
Mia nodded.
“I come from a very wealthy family. But no one really knows that. Everyone assumes our money comes from Stafford.”
“Out of curiosity, how much are we talking about, exactly?” Keri asked. Sometimes this job made discretion impossible.
“Exactly? I don’t know—we have a beachfront house in Miami and a condo in San Francisco, both owned under company names. We’re active in the market and have lots of other assets. You’ve seen all the art in the house. Altogether we’re probably talking about fifty-five to sixty million.”
“Does Ashley know?”
The woman shrugged.
“To a point—she doesn’t know the exact figures but she knows there’s a lot of it and that the public isn’t supposed to know about all of it. Stafford likes to project a ‘man of the people’ persona.”
“Would she talk about it? Just to her friends, maybe?”
“No. She’s under strict instructions not to.” The woman exhaled and said, “God, I’m really shooting my mouth off. Stafford would be livid.”
“Do you two get along?”
“Yes, of course.”
“How about Ashley? Do you get along with her?”
“There’s no one in the world I’m closer to.”
“Okay. Does Stafford get along with her?”
“They get along fine.”
“Is there any reason she’d run away from home?”
“No. Not even close. That’s not what’s going on here.”
“How’s her mood been lately?”
“It’s been good. She’s happy, stable, all of it.”
“No boy trouble—”
“No.”
“Drugs or alcohol?”
“I can’t say never. But in general, she’s a responsible young lady. This summer she trained as a junior lif
eguard. She had to be up at five in the morning every day for that. She’s not a flake. Besides, she hasn’t even had time to get bored yet. This is her second week back to school.”
“Any drama there?”
“No. She likes her teachers. She gets along with all the kids. She’ll be going out for the girls’ basketball team.”
Keri locked eyes with the woman and asked, “So what do you think is going on?”
Confusion washed over the woman’s face. Her lips trembled.
“I don’t know.” She turned her eyes to the front door, then back, and said, “I just want her to come home. Where the hell is Stafford?”
As if on cue, a man appeared from around a corner. It was Senator Stafford Penn. Keri had seen him dozens of times on TV. But in person, he gave off a vibe that didn’t come through onscreen. About forty-five, he was muscular and tall, easily six foot two, with blond hair like Ashley’s, a chiseled jaw, and piercing green eyes. He had a magnetism that seemed to almost vibrate. Keri gulped hard as he extended his hand to shake hers.
“Stafford Penn,” he said, although he could tell she already knew that.
Keri smiled.
“Keri Locke,” she said. “LAPD Missing Persons Unit, Pacific Division.”
Stafford gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek and sat down beside her. He didn’t waste any time with pleasantries.
“We appreciate your coming down. But personally, I think we can let it rest until the morning.”
Mia looked at him in disbelief.
“Stafford—”
“Kids break away from their parents,” he continued. “They wean themselves. It’s part of growing up. Hell, if she was a boy, we would have been dealing with days like this two or three years ago. That’s why I asked Mia to be discreet when she called you. I doubt this is the last time we’ll be dealing with this kind of thing and I don’t want to be accused of crying wolf.”
Keri asked, “So you don’t think anything’s wrong?”
He shook his head.
“No. I think she’s a teenager doing what teenagers do. To be honest, I’m sort of glad this day has come. It shows she’s getting more independent. Mark my words, she’ll show up tonight. Worst case, tomorrow morning, probably with a hangover.”
A Trace of Death (A Keri Locke Mystery--Book #1) Page 2
