“I hope the officer is still here and we don’t have to traipse all over New York to find him.”
Jake grinned as he watched the comings and goings of the police department. “You won’t believe me, but this was the part of my job I hated the most. This and paperwork.”
Loki watched as an older officer, his belly drooping past his beltline, wrestled with a young blonde who was getting the better of him.
“Can I help you?”
She brought her attention back to the desk sergeant as Jake introduced them. “Jake Savior and Loki Redmond. Special Agent Brian Wilkes with the FBI contacted your department about a case involving the disappearance of Gwendolyn Dillon.”
“Hey, Bernie, couple of people here to see you.”
The older officer, his face red, glared at them. “Tell them to take a fu—” He stopped and rubbed at the thin gray hair in complete disarray. “Tell them to take a number. I got my hands full at the moment.” He finally managed to get the blonde into a seat. “You move and I’m gonna break that pretty neck of yours, you hear me, Blondie?”
“Police brutality.”
He leaned in and whispered something, and the blonde paled but sat up in the chair and stopped her fussing. “George, book this one for me, will you? Trafficking, prostitution, and disorderly conduct. If she moves, make it resisting arrest.”
Pushing the thin gray hair away from his face, he approached and stuck out his hand. “Craig Berneski, what can I do for you?”
Loki caught Jake staring at her and realized she’d shuddered when Berneski gave his name. The officer held out his hand, and Loki shook it. “Nice to meet you, Officer Berneski. I recently met another officer with that name. Your son, perhaps?”
“Nah, my son was too damn lazy to be a cop. Sits on his butt all day playing games, and they pay him for it. Can you believe that? Bastard makes more than I do playing kids’ games.”
“Is there some place we could talk?” Jake asked.
Berneski led them to an office cluttered in files. “Grab a seat if you can find one.”
Loki sat down tentatively on an old chair that looked ready to collapse any minute, leaving the armchair for Jake. She suspected the springs were about to break through and turned her face away from him to hide her grin.
“So, what’s this all about?” Berneski asked.
Jake handed him the picture of Gwendolyn Dillon taken from the missing persons database. “I understand you investigated this girl’s disappearance.”
Berneski stared at the picture and scratched his head. “Vaguely remember it. What’s the FBI looking into one of my old cases for?”
“We think it might be connected to a recent kidnapping in Alabama,” Jake answered.
“Too many sick bastards in the world if you ask me,” Berneski said. “Let me go see if I can find the file.”
Berneski left, and Jake shifted his weight to the edge of the chair. “What was that about his son?”
“The guy that came by the house dressed as a police officer was wearing a name tag with Berneski on it.”
“Could be coincidence, but I doubt it,” Jake said. “We get a chance, we’ll ask him about it.”
Berneski came back through the door. “Found it. Looks like it was a bad drug deal. Mother had a habit and owed some big names a lot of dough. Kid went missing on a Wednesday. Mother died from an overdose on Friday.”
“Mind if I take a look at the file?” Jake asked.
Berneski handed it over. “Have that copy if you want it, or I can make you a copy. We’ve got most of them online now.”
Jake flipped through the file, reading the notes and first report. “Did you conduct any interviews?”
“A few. Hard to get drug addicts to talk.”
“I don’t suppose you’d have any notes on those interviews?”
Berneski pointed at the file. “If it ain’t in there, I ain’t got it. Wouldn’t matter, anyway. Half the witnesses I talked to are probably dead by now.”
There was a slight accusation in Berneski’s voice. Loki knew it wasn’t unusual for a cop to take offense when being questioned by the FBI about a case. It was that little niggling of self-doubt they all suffered from: What if I could have done more, or worse, what if they found something I missed? “We think you might have interviewed the killer without knowing it. The suspect in this case was dressed as a police officer and wearing a name tag that said Berneski.”
Berneski opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You mean the bastard who took this little girl is pretending to be me?”
“His name tag was an exact duplicate of the one you’re wearing now.”
Berneski looked down at his name tag. “I wondered where it went. My sister took some laundry in for me. Must have left my name tag on one of the shirts because I had to get a new one. Never did find the old one.”
“Which laundromat did you use?” Loki asked.
“Honey, that’s been three years ago. I think it was some Chinese place up the street, but they went out of business six months ago.”
Loki fiddled with her phone until she found the sketch she’d done with Karen the night before. “Any chance you might recognize this man?”
Berneski studied the picture and shook his head. “Like I said, it’s been three years. Even if I’d seen him, I wouldn’t remember it. You got any idea how many cases cross my desk a day?”
Jake stood up and stuck out his hand. “Thank you for your time, Officer Berneski.” He waved the file. “I’ll take you up on your offer and take this with us. I don’t suppose she has any more family in the area?”
“Nah. Never could locate the father. Mother, for what she was worth, was all she had. Poor mite.”
“Where was she taken from?” Loki asked.
“Right out of her own home. What made us suspect it was related to her mother’s drug deals. Whoever he was knew exactly where she lived, and knew she was home from school sick too. Her mother said she’d taken her to one of those walk-in clinics the day before. Doctor told her to keep her home the rest of the week. I talked to the doctor and several people at the clinic, but nobody even remembered her being there. Mostly volunteers there, and they only work a week or two at a time and move on to another clinic in another area.”
“Thank you, Officer Berneski.”
“No problem.” He stood. “If I can do anything else, give me a call.”
The air outside was chilly. Loki tightened the scarf around her neck and shoved her hands into her pockets. “We’ve got two hours before we have to catch the plane. What do you want to do?”
Jake opened the file then closed it. “The clinic is about a block over. We could check it out to see if there’s anyone still there from three years ago. Maybe somebody that could recognize our guy.”
Loki knew it was a long shot, but it was the only one they had at the moment. “Walk or get a taxi?”
“I need to walk,” Jake said.
Loki heard the same disappointment she was feeling in his voice. I haven’t even told Grace her real name yet, and now I’m going to have to tell her that her mother’s dead and she doesn’t have any family. At least she has Hope. Her jaw set, and her lips pressed into a thin line. And I’m going to make damn sure she gets to keep her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Teresa unbuckled her seat belt as Wilkes parked in front of the run-down dwelling that had been the home of Penelope Gardina. The police had already interviewed the mother and she had the reports, but history had taught her there was always something missing. Some little point that seemed irrelevant until it was put together with all the other evidence. So far they’d been able to keep the lid on the fact they’d found the bodies, due to the remoteness of the farm and the fact that only the FBI was involved, but she knew that wouldn’t last long. “So how do you want to play it?”
Wilkes followed suit with the seat belt and opened his door. “You do the questioning. If I get something, I’ll write you a note.”
“What do you want?” she asked in a raspy voice. Teresa recognized the signs of rough living and too many packs of cigarettes a day. She flashed her badge. “Special Agent Teresa Nikolic and my partner, Special Agent Brian Wilkes, ma’am. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Penelope.”
Her jaw sagged, her mouth sank more into the corners, and her eyes teared up for a mere second as she opened the door wider. “Done told them everything I know. My fault she’s gone, but they wouldn’t arrest me like I asked them to.”
Teresa quickly assessed the disheveled state of the home, knowing Wilkes was doing the same. There were usually two kinds of kidnappings—those for ransom and those for the sociopaths, pedophiles, and rapists. Given a choice, she would take those for ransom.
“I’ve read all the reports, Mrs. Gardina, and there’s nothing to indicate Penelope’s abduction was your fault,” Teresa said. “Is there something we missed?”
Tossing a week’s worth of newspapers from the couch to the floor, Mrs. Gardina sat down and waved a hand at the tattered old armchair. “You got kids?”
Teresa’s mouth went dry, and she clasped her hands to control the trembling. Why the hell did she have to ask that question? “No, ma’am.”
“Best not to. They’ll bring you joy and break your heart. And then one day they’ll be gone.”
“Would you mind if I looked at Penelope’s room, Mrs. Gardina?”
She waved at a curtain across a doorway. “Help yourself.”
Teresa motioned for Wilkes to follow her and pushed aside the curtain. A twin-sized cot occupied the majority of the room, with a three-drawer dresser taking up the rest. Another curtain hung over a makeshift closet, and Teresa pushed it aside to note three dresses hanging there. The room was dark and dreary, void of toys, dolls, or any items signifying a child had resided there, but it was clean and neat compared to the other room she’d seen so far.
She returned to the living room and waited until they were seated. “Tell me about Penelope, Mrs. Gardina. What she liked to do, where she liked to go.”
Mrs. Gardina’s head jerked up, and she glared at Teresa through red-rimmed eyes. “What you asking questions like that for? The girl’s dead. Don’t make no difference now what she liked to do or where she liked to go.”
Teresa kept her voice low. “We’re trying to find the man who killed her. Knowing these things might give us a clue as to why he killed her. From what we’ve gathered so far, he normally keeps them several years. Something spooked him this time or made him change his plans. The more we know about Penelope, the more we can understand why he chose her.”
“She was a quiet little thing. Good-hearted too, and always minded her momma. She loved school.” Mrs. Gardina sank into the couch and closed her eyes. “Couldn’t wait to get up and get dressed every day. Where I thought she was when I got home from the store. Figured she’d got tired of staying home and dressed and gone to school.” She opened her eyes and met Teresa’s gaze. “Should have checked, shouldn’t I? Maybe if I’d checked, they could have found her sooner.”
Wilkes passed Teresa a note. “So, Penelope was home from school sick?”
Mrs. Gardina wobbled her head up and down. “Took her to the doctor the day before, and he said she had strep. Told me to keep her home for at least twenty-four hours after starting the antibiotics.”
“Who was her doctor?” Teresa asked.
She snickered. “Look around you, girl. Do I look like I can afford a doctor? Took her to the free clinic down off of Third.”
“Do you work, Mrs. Gardina?” Wilkes asked.
“Ain’t none of your damn business. You gonna ask questions like that, you can get the hell out.”
Wilkes settled his eyes on her face but didn’t move. “Where were you when Penelope was taken?”
“I done told them where I was. Went out to get a gallon of milk.”
Wilkes continued to stare at her. “Where were you, Mrs. Gardina, when Penelope was taken?”
She turned tearful eyes to Teresa. “Wasn’t my fault. I get lonely sometimes. A woman has needs too, you know.”
“No one is blaming you. We want to find the man who took Penelope. When did you leave the house?” Teresa asked.
“About nine o’clock the night before. Went outside to bum a cigarette, as I was out, and there it was, like God had looked down and saw my need.”
Teresa frowned. “There what was, Mrs. Gardina?”
Her face brightened for the first time. “A hundred-dollar bill lying there on my doorstep. I knew right then and there God was gonna take care of us.”
“So you took the money and what happened next?” Teresa asked.
“I had my neighbor call a cab. We needed milk and bread and cigarettes.” Her voice shook slightly, and her lower lip trembled. “Wasn’t gonna be gone but a few minutes, a half hour at the most.”
“But that’s not what happened, is it?” Wilkes leaned forward, his words harsh.
A few fake tears sprang to her eyes before her jaw set and her lips pressed together. “Told you, a woman’s got needs too.”
“So where did you go, Mrs. Gardina?” Teresa asked.
“Stopped by the bar for a drink. Nothing wrong with having a drink.”
Teresa met Wilkes’s gaze before she continued in her soft voice. “Did you meet someone?”
Mrs. Gardina’s face brightened again with the memory, and she nodded.
“So what time did you get home?” Wilkes asked.
She lowered her eyelashes and clenched her hands into fists. “Ten o’clock, and Penelope was already gone. Like I said, I thought she went to school.”
“Ten in the morning?” Teresa asked.
Her chin lowered even farther on her chest. “In the morning.”
Teresa relaxed the hand clenched by her side. “What’s the name of the bar?”
“Joe’s, down on the corner.”
Wilkes stood and headed for the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Gardina. You’ve been a big help.”
Teresa showed her the sketch Karen had given her last night. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
Mrs. Gardina stared at it with blurry eyes. “No, but he’s a good-looking thing, ain’t he? I could have had a man like that once.”
Teresa followed Wilkes and closed the door behind them. She didn’t bother thanking Mrs. Gardina, as the sarcasm dripping from Wilkes’s voice was still hanging in the air. There was no way of knowing whether Penelope had been taken the night before after Mrs. Gardina left for the bar or in the morning before she got home. And if she’d checked on her daughter to make sure she was at school, and told the police about the hundred-dollar bill, they might have uncovered enough evidence to save Penelope’s life.
Wilkes slid in behind the wheel and started the car, and Teresa climbed in the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt as he backed out onto the main road. “Clinic next?”
He nodded. His jaw quivered slightly, and the sound of teeth grinding together filled the car. It was going to be a long drive back to Mississippi.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Robert opened the door for Mother before he tossed her packages into the backseat. He’d been right to bring her to the city. She was happy again, the incident at the cabin with the Dillon girl no more than a bad memory. His only regret was that he couldn’t stay around long enough to watch the Indian’s face when she found his presents. That should give her some idea of what I’m going to do to her and that damn dog. “So where would you like to have lunch, Mother?”
She leaned back in the seat and buckled her seat belt. “Let’s find a nice park, with a little brook and maybe some ducks. You like ducks, don’t you, Robert?”
He slid in behind the wheel. Ducks were fine, but parks usually meant joggers, or walkers and
dogs. “I thought maybe we’d go to a nice restaurant and have a sit-down lunch. It’s been a long time since we did that.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw clenched. “I want to go to the park, Robert.”
He started the car and weaved into traffic. “All right, Mother, but first we need to go to the house and unload your packages and make some lunch to take with us.”
She hummed happily beside him as his mind worked through a way to get her to take a sleeping pill. The park meant children or, worse, young girls. It wouldn’t matter how much he watched her, she always found a way to hide from him and lure one away from the rest. He needed to get rid of the Alabama house before someone connected their trips to the bodies found during their brief stays there. He’d put it on the market as soon as he took care of the Indian.
A liquor store sign flashed ahead, and he turned in to the drive-through and ordered a bottle of wine.
“Are we celebrating something, Robert?”
He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. She loved a glass of wine, and if he dropped in two tablets, she’d be out before he finished making sandwiches. “Life, Mother. We’re celebrating life.”
~ ~ ~
Loki passed the notes on Gwendolyn Dillon to Wilkes. “He didn’t remember much about the case.”
“I’ll send these to Rosetta. She can make a graph and keep up with the similarities until we find something that clicks,” Wilkes said.
“We have a couple already,” Jake said. “Both came from poor or dysfunctional families.”
“And both were sick and visited a clinic the day before they were taken.” Loki nodded eagerly. “Unfortunately the one we visited had a complete new staff. We showed the picture around, but no one recognized it.”
“Yeah, that jumped out at me too.” Teresa joined in the conversation. “Problem is one is in New York and one in Alabama. There was one doctor who was absent when we went there yesterday. A Dr. Vaughn. It was his day off, and he’s there pretty much six days a week. No other males work there, and I doubt seriously this Dr. Vaughn is our man, as Grace said he didn’t work while they were here. We attempted to show the picture, but to be honest, they were swamped and no one was interested in helping.”
The Forgotten Page 9
