Leine walked to the counter to wait in line as the customer ahead of her ordered a half-decaf, two-pump, no foam, sugar-free praline and vanilla latte to be delivered at precisely one hundred and seventy degrees. The coffee bar’s air conditioner wasn’t working very well and Leine pulled her hair up off her neck and secured it with a couple of bobby pins as the cashier scanned the woman’s phone for payment. The young clerk looked at Leine expectantly, fingers poised above the register, ready to capture her instructions.
“Black coffee. Large,” Leine said.
The clerk stood in flustered silence for a moment before replying. “Would you like room for cream?” she asked, her fingers quivering over the keys.
“Black coffee. Large,” Leine repeated, wondering what the hell was so difficult about the order.
“Oh, okay. Sure. Coming right up.” The clerk jotted the drink on the side of a cup as though she might forget what Leine had just ordered in the next two seconds and turned back to the hulking coffee urns behind her. As she filled the eco-friendly paper cup with steaming hot coffee, Leine scanned the café for Brittany.
She’d described herself as a Rhianna look-alike, but several of the café’s patrons could have fit that description. In the end, it was Brittany who found Leine.
“Leine Basso?” a feminine voice said behind her.
Leine accepted the coffee from the cashier and dropped the change into the tip box sitting on the counter before she turned around.
“You must be Brittany.”
Diminutive with jet-black hair, deep brown, almond-shaped eyes, and dressed in a form-fitting pale yellow top and pencil Capris, Brittany could have easily passed for the pop star. Upon closer inspection, Leine revised her age downward after realizing that underneath the artfully applied makeup Brittany wouldn’t pass for more than seventeen.
They had a seat at a table by a window in the corner, the nearest customer far enough away that they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Tell me about Josh and Elise,” Leine began.
Brittany took a sip of her coffee. “They’d just started hanging out together. I think this was the third time Lise went out with him.”
“Third time? So they weren’t serious?”
Brittany shook her head. “Not even. In fact, the last time I talked to her, she’d been pissed at him because he left her at the club.”
“The bar in Tijuana, right?”
“Right. The Blue Manatee.”
“And you were supposed to drive down to the border to pick her up?”
Brittany nodded, her eyes tearing. “Yes. But then she texted me not to bother, that she was going to some party on the beach with Josh and that she’d text me later.” She looked at Leine, the worry she felt for her friend evident in her eyes. “I never got another text.”
“The Bennetts’ housekeeper believes Elise ran away with him. That they were going to be married.”
Brittany rolled her eyes. “Teuta’s nice and all, but she’s just the maid. She doesn’t know anything. She’s convinced Lise is pure as the driven snow and would never sleep with a boy, much less go out drinking in Tijuana with one.” She picked up her phone, scanned the screen for messages, and set it back on the table. “Elise is definitely not a virgin. And she isn’t going to get married before she graduates. Believe me.”
“That’s what her mother said.”
Brittany smirked.
“What?” Leine asked.
“Like she’d know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Belinda Bennett only looks out for Belinda Bennett. Personally, I don’t get why she even had a kid. She doesn’t care about her.” She crossed her arms. “The only thing the Bennetts care about is money.”
“They seemed pretty shaken up when I met them.”
She shrugged. “Maybe they finally figured out that they had a daughter. Believe me, it’d be a first.”
Leine asked Brittany a couple of other questions about Elise’s relationship with her parents and then handed her a business card.
“In case you hear from Elise or remember anything else that might be helpful.”
Brittany took the card and slid it into her purse. “Thanks.” She paused and looked at Leine. “There’s something I didn’t tell you.”
Leine waited.
“Elise has disappeared before.”
Leine glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She ran away a couple of times, trying to get her parents’ attention, but it backfired. The last time she did it, they didn’t even bother to notify police.” She leaned forward. “This time is different, though, I know it.”
A brief flicker of anger surged through Leine. If Elise had staged her abduction in order to get her parents’ attention then the kid was wasting everyone’s time. Leine could be much more effective elsewhere, searching for actual missing children. And why hadn’t the Bennetts mentioned it in the interview? The previous times Elise ran away would be easy enough to check if the Bennetts had reported her missing.
“Why is this different?” Leine asked.
“She always texted me before, let me know where she was so I wouldn’t worry about her. One time,” Brittany lowered her gaze to the floor, “she was at my house while the cops were looking for her.”
“Good to know.” Leine got up to leave.
“Like I said, she hasn’t texted me so I know something happened. And Josh never came back either, which worries me even more.”
“He wouldn’t help make her parents believe she wasn’t lying this time?”
“No. I don’t think so. Josh wasn’t—isn’t that into her. I doubt he’d want to lie about something that serious. Besides, he’s graduating this year. If he screws up he won’t get to keep the new car his dad gave him.”
“Thanks for the information, Brittany.” Leine made a mental note to contact the officer who took the missing persons report.
“Thank you for taking this seriously. Please find her.” Brittany looked close to tears. “I know she’s still alive. She has to be.”
“I’ll do what I can.” Leine threw her cup into the garbage as she walked out the door, and wondered whether she was chasing a ghost, or a lying, spoiled brat.
Chapter 8
As Leine pulled into the parking lot at SHEN her phone beeped, alerting her to a text message. She grabbed her cell out of her purse and squinted at the screen. The text from Santa read, Putz @ ER. Talk later.
That can’t be good, Leine thought. A trip to the emergency room could be either work- or lifestyle-related. In addition to being a detective who sat behind a desk for hours at a time, Santa’s erstwhile partner eschewed anything resembling exercise and had a weakness for all things fried.
Keep me posted, Leine texted back. She hoped it was a false alarm or at least nothing major. Santa and Putz had been partners for a long time and worked well together. Leine trusted him to always have Santa’s back.
As she got out of her car, the theme from The Godfather erupted from her phone. It was Lou.
“Hey, Lou. I’m in the parking lot. I’ll be inside in a minute,” she said.
“Good. You’re going to want to hear this.” Lou’s voice had weary written all over it.
She locked her car and made her way up the sidewalk, wondering what could make her old friend sound so drained. Leine marveled at his capacity to ignore the seeming insurmountable hopelessness of their mission while staying upbeat and positive. Whatever happened must have something to do with one of the cases she’d been working. Leine braced herself for a setback.
Lou was leaning against his desk when she walked into his office. The lines on his face seemed deeper than usual, giving him the appearance of a man much older than his sixty-odd years. He was joined by two men, both cradling a paper cup of office coffee. Leine recognized them from Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, having worked on several trafficking cases with them before. Wondering whether they were there with good
news or bad, she greeted them and sat on the edge of Lou’s desk.
“Leine, Nabokov and Gunderson here have some news about Josh and Elise.” He turned to the ICE agents, giving them the floor.
Nabokov shifted forward and set his coffee cup on the desk in front of him.
“Naturally, what I’m about to tell you isn’t general knowledge and goes nowhere,” he said.
“Naturally,” Lou answered.
Nabokov nodded. “We traced Josh Rider’s iPhone to a place a few miles outside of Tijuana. Mexican authorities found it in the weeds alongside the road in an unfinished housing development.”
“Did they find the car?”
Gunderson shook his head. “No. And there was no sign of either Miss Bennett or Josh Rider. There was, however, a large amount of dried blood on the ground along with several sets of footprints and broken glass. We sent samples to the lab.”
“So, either it’s a carjacking gone bad, or somebody wanted to make it look like one,” Leine said.
“Looks like it. We’ve asked our Mexican counterparts to distribute photos of the two of them throughout their networks and keep us apprised of any related information, but—” Nabokov raised his hands, palms up. “The car’s gone, there aren’t any bodies, and no one’s made contact with either set of parents. Not a lot to go on.”
“That’s where you come in,” Lou said to Leine. “Obviously, evidence is pointing to the probability that something happened beyond them running away together, but Nabokov and Gunderson here have hit a wall with the local police. They’re resisting the idea that two kids from wealthy families were abducted in their fair city. Someone higher up is afraid if the information gets out it might curtail the influx of spring breakers.” Lou crossed his arms. “I need you to go down to Tijuana and check things out.”
Leine nodded. “And stay under the radar.”
“You got it.”
“I’d send my own people, except they’re known commodities in TJ. The authorities down there tend to get a little peevish when we come around sticking our noses into things. You know, not having jurisdiction and all,” Nabokov added. “Not to mention the agency’s stretched so thin you can hear the screams.”
“No problem. I can leave tonight.”
“The sooner the better.” Gunderson handed Leine a thin manila envelope. “This is what we’ve got so far. I’ll call Lou as soon as the lab report comes back.”
Leine took the envelope and looked inside. Along with a copy of the police reports of the two teenagers’ disappearance, there were recent photos of Elise and Josh, a picture of the Porsche, and a satellite map marking where Josh’s phone had been found.
“Thanks. This is helpful.” Leine turned to Lou. “Can you make a reservation for a car and a hotel?”
Lou nodded.
Gunderson reached for his briefcase. “We’ve got footage of them crossing the border into Mexico, but nothing coming back.” He pulled out a tablet, powered it on, and turned the screen toward Leine. The surveillance video showed a late-model Porsche with two occupants entering Mexico at 7:30 p.m. the previous Saturday evening. The passenger had long, blonde hair and resembled the photograph of Elise Mrs. Bennett had given to Lou the day before. The driver easily fit Josh’s description.
“Border agents didn’t record their passports, but we’re sure it’s them. The plates match the car in question. I doubt the kid would let anyone else drive that car.”
“Unbelievable that he even drove it across,” Nabokov added, shaking his head. “He was asking for trouble.”
“So what’s your gut tell you?” Leine asked, looking at the two agents.
Nabokov spoke first. “Pretty sure there’s been at least one murder. Depending on whose blood was at the scene, I’d say the two were targeted straight off the bat because of either the car or the girl or both. If we go with a crime of opportunity and it really was a vanilla-type carjacking, it’s possible they realized she would net them a bigger payoff than the car when they saw her.”
“I lean toward the latter explanation, myself,” Gunderson said.
Leine tucked the envelope with the report into her bag and stood to leave.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said. “I appreciate your help.”
“No problem, Leine. I hope you find something,” Gunderson said. “We’ll continue to follow any leads we come across. We’d appreciate it if you’d keep us informed.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll follow you out.” Lou accompanied Leine from the office, leaving Nabokov and Gunderson to finish their coffee.
“What’s your feeling on this, Lou?” Leine asked as they walked through the door to the parking lot. Lou had a sixth sense when it came to the criminal mind.
“I think the first scenario makes the most sense. Why were they in an abandoned development in the first place?” Lou shook his head. “And, according to the housekeeper, Elise was wearing an expensive dress with a lot of bling. They would have gotten more than their share of attention no matter what because of the car he was driving, but adding it all together makes it an even more attractive proposition.”
Leine unlocked her car and put her bag on the passenger seat. “I’ll keep in touch. Let me know if anything comes up. Depending on what I find, I may need a gun.” Leine refused to take a chance crossing the border with a firearm. Mexican authorities tended to frown on tourists with weapons. Jail time wasn’t pleasant anywhere, but especially not in Mexico.
“No problem. I’ve got just the guy. Be safe.” Lou walked back into the building. Leine climbed inside her car and checked her phone. Santa had sent another text: Putz ok. c u @ home.
Relieved, she put her cell back into her purse and started the car.
Home. He meant his apartment, of course. Leine waited for the familiar claustrophobic feeling to make its presence known, but it didn’t even rear its head. She looked at her watch. There was just enough time to grab some takeout and have dinner with Santa before she left for Tijuana.
The thought gave her pause. She marveled at how easily she had slipped into relationship mode. A smile playing at the edges of her lips, she shifted the car into gear and drove out of the parking lot, headed for home.
Chapter 9
Leine had just lit two tapered candles on the dining room table when Santa walked in the door.
“How’s Don?” she called out.
She heard him drop his keys on the table in the entryway and move into the living room.
“He’s stable. The hospital’s going to monitor him overnight. He’s scheduled for more tests in the morning.” Santa walked over and planted a kiss on her neck. “You should have heard the words that came out of his mouth when he found out he had to stay.”
“What happened?”
“Chest pains, shortness of breath,” Santa said, heading for the couch. “The guy’s been in denial too long. He’s gonna have to wake up. Change some things.”
“You look beat,” Leine said as she came around behind him and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “He’s a fighter. He’ll be fine.”
Santa gave her a tired smile and reached for her hand. “Yeah. I know. He’ll be out on a medical for a few weeks.”
“Which means you get a new partner.”
“Yep.”
“Well, maybe this one will be a quick study. It’s only temporary, right? Until Putz is allowed to resume his duties?”
“He’ll probably have to pull light duty for a while when he comes back.” He sighed. “When you’ve been partners as long as we have you develop a kind of shorthand when you work together. Makes things easier. It’s always a crap shoot whether a replacement is workable.”
“You’ll still be able to talk to Putz about your cases. It’s not like he’ll be completely out of commission. You know he’s gonna call you all day long while he’s recuperating. He won’t be able to stand it.”
Santa smiled, brightening. “You’re right.” He took her hand and guided her to sit next to hi
m on the couch. “I noticed your bag next to the door. Are you going somewhere?”
Leine allowed herself to be led and sat down. “I’m leaving tonight. Josh’s phone was traced to an abandoned housing project outside of Tijuana.”
“Any leads on the car?”
“No. Some safety glass, but that’s it. There was blood on the ground, but results from the lab aren’t back yet so there’s not much to go on at the moment. The ICE agents who told us what happened said some higher-up in the local police department wasn’t too interested in pursuing the idea that a couple of rich kids from LA had been kidnapped and possibly murdered. They’re afraid it’ll slow the tsunami of partiers into the city.”
“So you get to go to TJ during spring break. Lucky you.”
“Yeah. Not so much. I figure I’ll check out the area where they found the kid’s phone, talk to the bartenders that were on staff that night, see if anyone recognizes them.”
“I know a DEA field agent who works out of there, if you want his information. He’ll be able to give you some tips or maybe a contact or two.”
“Sure. The more the merrier.” Leine stroked his cheek and leaned in for a kiss. “You hungry?” she asked. “I picked up some Pad Thai from the Green Onion.”
“Perfect.” With a smile, Santa slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her to him. The scent of his citrus and cedar aftershave enveloped Leine. She closed her eyes and inhaled, giving herself over to the sensory overload that always accompanied a kiss from the smoldering detective. After a few moments, she put her hand on his chest and drew back with an apologetic smile.
“Much as I’d love to stay and play, I need to eat dinner and get on the road.” She took both of his hands in hers and stood up, pulling him to his feet. “The faster I go, the faster I can come back.”
Brief disappointment skated across his features but was soon replaced by a wicked smile. He leaned in close and whispered, “Fast is good, but only when it’s you coming back.”
***
The border crossing was busy but not as crowded as during daylight hours. To make things easier, Leine walked across and picked up her nondescript SUV from the rental agency, drove downtown, and parked at a secure parking lot near the Blue Manatee. It was still early by Tijuana standards—only eight thirty—and the party atmosphere hadn’t yet kicked into high gear. Bouncers stood outside of bar entrances shilling for early arrivals, hoping to entice them with promises of scantily clad women, cheap booze, and pulsing laser light shows.
The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller Page 5
