by Steven James
He hesitated. “Probably not.”
“She parked with the intention of quickly retrieving something or delivering something, and never made it back to the vehicle,”
I said.
“Maybe she was grabbed as she got out of the car.”
“Then the car doors would have been unlocked. If you abduct a woman as she’s leaving a car, you don’t take the time to lock the doors behind you.” I pointed. “Also, we have these light posts close by, no other cars in the vicinity. She would have seen her abductor approaching, even though it was dark when she arrived.”
Collins stuck his hands on his hips. “How do you know she got here in the dark?”
“Heater settings. This morning was cool early, but the temperature rose quickly right around dawn. Her heater is set on high.
If she arrived anytime after sunrise she would have had her air-conditioning on, or she would have at least turned off the heat.”
Both men stared at me blankly.
OK. Enough. This lesson could go on all day. Time to get inside.
My guess was that whoever met her-or abducted her-waited until after she entered the aquarium, to avoid being captured on the surveillance camera aimed at the employees’ door.
“Thanks for your good work, gentlemen. I especially like how you used those lampposts to mark off your crime scene. Very clever.”
“Yeah,” Ryman said. “That was my idea.”
“I’m not surprised.”
So.
I knew something I hadn’t known before: Cassandra’s jumbled suitcase in the back of her impeccably neat car told me that she’d rushed to pack and then left in a hurry-just as it appeared Hunter had done. It seemed likely they were planning to meet, maybe flee together. But why now, after all these fires? And what was the hurry?
Was Detective Dunn’s presence last night related to Cassandra’s disappearance? And what was so important to her that she had to stop by here early this morning?
Too many questions.
I retrieved my computer bag from my car and stepped into the lobby of the aquarium.
30
I found Lien-hua and Tessa admiring an expansive tank of tropical fish that created the backdrop for the main ticketing area. “OK, Tessa, this is where you’re on your own.”
She didn’t look away from the fish. “OK.”
To our left, a labyrinthine passage wove past a series of small exhibits featuring squid, octopuses, and sea horses. A walkway on the right disappeared into a dark cove emitting eerie music and guarded by a large tank of grim-looking barracuda. Three more paths led to additional attractions and interactive oceanographic and marine biology exhibits in different arms of the aquarium. I assumed that eventually all the walkways would converge at the huge Seven Deadly Seas exhibit at the far end of the facility.
I pointed to a concession stand nearby, at the center of the hub for all the different wings. “Tessa, meet me over there by that snack area in one hour, OK?”
“One hour.”
“Look at your watch, OK?”
She did. Then, without another word, she set off on her own.
When Tessa was out of earshot, Lien-hua read my mind and said,
“Cassandra was taken, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. She arrived in the dark, deep in thought, planning her day, left her car with the intention of returning, and never made it back.”
“How do you know she was deep in thought?”
“Working theory. Her radio and CD player were both off.
Typically, people drive without music only when (a) they’re on the phone, but it was probably too early for that; (b) when they’re talking to someone in the car, but as far as we know she was alone; or (c) when they need to concentrate on something. My money’s on C.”
“Hmm. I do believe you’ve started profiling, Dr. Bowers.”
“No, no, no. It’s called induction. Very different. Completely different.”
“Uh-huh,” she said as we went to find the aquarium director.
An hour ago Creighton had pulled some of Randi’s personal information off her cell phone and then ground the phone to pieces beneath his heel.
Since then he’d been in the manager’s office considering his options.
It was possible that Randi would come back looking for her phone. He doubted she’d be able to find the warehouse, but it was possible. So maybe he should just wait and take care of her then.
But then again, since it was the middle of the day, she might not come alone or she might tell a friend where she was going. In either case, it was likely she’d be missed and then others would come looking for her. Not good. Too many bad scenarios.
Before he destroyed her phone, he’d gotten enough information from it to find her, so he could go after her. Maybe he should pay her a little visit.
That’s what his gut told him to do.
Find her.
Get the phone back.
Teach her a lesson or two.
Yes, that’s what his gut told him, but his mind told him not to rock the boat any more than necessary. He really shouldn’t leave Cassandra alone, and besides, he knew that if Shade tried calling the phone Randi had grabbed, Shade would immediately discover the mix-up and find another way to contact him, but only if Creighton stayed put.
So. Stay or go looking?
Really, the best choice was to stay. Trust that Shade would be in touch, but still keep an eye out for Randi and only deal with her if she somehow did find her way back to the warehouse.
Creighton watched Cassandra for a moment through the video monitor. Then he had a thought. Now that he’d completed the video for Hunter, he only needed one camera trained on her.
Which meant he could use the other camera for something else.
Yes. If he moved one camera outside, he could keep one eye on Cassandra and the other on the road to see if Randi came back.
As he began to unhook the output cords of the camera on the left, Creighton admitted to himself that he hoped Randi would come back looking for her phone. Then he could kill two birds with one stone. So to speak.
A lanky man in his midforties led Lien-hua and me through a door marked “Restricted Area! Aquarium Staff Only!”
“This is where our aquarists work,” he informed us proudly.
Like the rest of the staff, he wore shorts, a Sherrod Aquarium polo shirt, and sport sandals. Stenciled on the pocket of his shirt was the name Warren Leant and his title: Managing Director Animal Husbandry. He had a weary face and made me think of someone who takes the elevator up to his condo in order to work out on his stair-stepper. “Please.” He motioned for us to follow him. “The animal husbandry wing is right through here.”
“So, Pat,” Lien-hua said as we followed Warren Leant past the backstage entrance to the Poseidon’s Odyssey 4-D attraction. “Back at the elevators earlier this morning, what were you and Ralph talking about?”
“Mostly Margaret. She’s on the West Coast.”
“But didn’t I overhear Ralph say he wanted to check on you and me? What was that all about?”
“Maybe he thinks there’s something going on.” I said the words before I realized I’d done more than just think them.
Oops.
“Well?” she said softly. “Is there?”
Thankfully, Mr. Leant interrupted our conversation. “Animal necropsy rooms.” He gestured toward a hallway that led to a row of six rooms. “You know what necropsies are?”
Lien-hua and I answered almost in unison: “Autopsies on animals.”
“Oh.” He looked deflated. “Yes. That’s right. All right then. It’s just a bit farther.”
He led us down the hallway, and I felt the pressure of Lien-hua’s question leaning against me.
“Well?” she repeated. “Is there?”
Once on a stakeout we’d almost kissed, but at the last moment we both hesitated and retreated back into ourselves. Since then we’d never spoken to each other of that night, but it
brought both an understated intimacy and a careful distance to our friendship.
But now, with the question laid so prominently on the table, I said,
“I’d like it if there was.”
Lien-hua was quiet, and I wasn’t sure how to take her silence, but then we arrived at the animal husbandry facility and I knew we’d have to finish this conversation another time.
The stark scent of antiseptics mixed with the wet smell of dead fish greeted us as we entered a brightly lit anteroom to the main work area. Leant gestured toward the far end. “Ms. Lillo’s office is just past the shark acclimation pool. You don’t think anything might have happened to her? I mean, it would be bad for the aquarium if it did-not that I’m unconcerned about her or anything, it’s just that I want to be prepared for the worst. For the media. You understand.
So, if there’s anything I should tell our board of directors…”
“Right now,” I said, “our main concern is just finding and speaking with Ms. Lillo, wherever she is. I need access to your security camera footage for last night and early this morning. Let’s start with 9:00 p.m. through 7:00 a.m.” I figured I could convince Ralph to assign a team of agents from the San Diego FBI field office to review the videos, to see if we could catch a glimpse of either Cassandra or the offender. “And I’d like you to clear your staff out of this wing but keep them here at the aquarium. I don’t want them to leave, but I want them out of the way.”
“Well, you see, that might be difficult. We’re already behind schedule with our shark feeding, and eight of our sharks haven’t been fed since last night.”
“Mr. Leant, with all due respect, I’m more concerned about finding Cassandra than about when your fish have lunch,” I said.
“Yes, well, I really don’t see the need for-”
“I’m not asking.”
“This is highly unusual.”
I glanced at Lien-hua. “If we can’t process this area properly, we might need to shut down the aquarium for how long? Two, three days? Does that sound right to you?”
“At least three days.”
Warren opened his mouth as if he were going to respond, then closed it soundlessly, stepped to the side, and dug out his walkie-talkie.
I knew that the animal husbandry area for an aquarium this size would need to be large, but I didn’t expect it to be fifteen meters wide by forty meters long. The wall on our left held four offices and then opened on the second story to include access to the water filtration towers that rose from a lower level, passed up the offices, and nearly touched the ceiling. They looked like giant cones with horizontal ribs.
The wall on our right held a series of inset view ports to the neighboring Seven Deadly Seas exhibit. A glass door led to a pathway that I could see allowed surface access. The shark acclimation pool Warren had mentioned lay beside one of the view ports halfway to the far wall.
The ceiling of the husbandry area climbed nearly four stories above our heads to accommodate a suspended track that ran through the center of the room. One end of the track terminated above the shark acclimation pool’s sliding metal door that separated it from the Seven Deadly Seas attraction. The other end of the track stopped abruptly beside a double-sized garage door that I assumed led to the outside of the aquarium.
“Must be for transferring sharks into and out of the exhibit,” said Lien-hua.
I set down my computer bag, approached the acclimation pool, and peered inside. Dimensions: four meters deep, five meters wide, five long. Sides made of thick, reinforced glass that appeared strong enough to stop even a frenzied, half-ton shark. I guessed that the sturdy steel drain located on the pool’s bottom allowed the aquarists to empty and then replace the water, maybe after transferring a shark into or out of the exhibit, or quarantining a sick shark. Since the pool was empty, I assumed they were currently in the process of doing that.
When I looked up, I saw that Lien-hua had approached the doors to the food preparation area on my left. Two aquarists wielding slender knives were skinning fish for the next shark feeding.
Buckets of white meat smeared pink with blood lay on the floor beside the sink. Lien-hua caught my eye and spoke softly enough so that only I could hear her. “You don’t think…”
It was a gruesome possibility. “We’ll need to check. See if there’s any evidence of an unscheduled feeding this morning. It’s possible.
We’ll also need to have an officer interview those two.”
“I’ll make the call.”
She stood beside a row of scuba tanks to call dispatch and the aquarium’s water quality control center, and Warren strode over to me with a young Hispanic woman in tow. He raised his nose as if he were sniffing me. “The staff will be waiting in the employees’ break room. And I certainly trust you’ll do all you can to make this… inspection go as quickly as possible.”
“You have my word.”
“Yes, well.” Nose still in the air. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I have to go and change the text on the television displays again so our paying customers won’t be disappointed when the feedings they were planning on viewing don’t occur.” He gestured toward the nervous-looking woman beside him. “Maria works with Cassandra.
She’ll show you around. And if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to contact me. Obviously, I would like to help wrap up this whole matter as quickly as possible.”
“Obviously.”
He went to summon the aquarists from the food prep area; I greeted Maria, and my guided tour began.
31
Grace and death.
Those were the two things Tessa thought of as she watched the sharks patrol the Seven Deadly Seas. She’d seen sharks on TV and in movies and in books and everything, but that was nothing compared to watching them glide only a few feet away from her face, just on the other side of the glass.
Tessa quickly identified the distinctively shaped hammerheads and the sand tiger sharks with their ferocious-looking, snaggly teeth. She also recognized the shortfin makos, nurse, lemon, bull, and tiger sharks. She saw a number of other species, too, that she couldn’t identify. And that kind of bugged her.
From inside the glass-enclosed pathway that wandered along the floor of the twenty-foot-deep exhibit, the sharks looked like a flock of great, dark, six-hundred-pound birds-who just happened to have rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Tessa leaned closer, close enough to see her breath flutter across the glass. And being that close, it almost seemed like she was in the water with the sharks as they soared silently around her, with perfectly honed power rippling through their supple, deadly bodies.
Silent beauty.
Primordial hunger.
Grace and death.
Tessa glanced at her watch. She wasn’t too concerned about the one-hour deadline Patrick had given her, but she didn’t want to be in the glass observation tunnel during the next shark feeding, which was scheduled to start any minute, especially if they were going to use live fish.
Ew. Disgusting.
She stepped onto the conveyor-belt-people-mover-thing on the right side of the passageway and was halfway to the next exhibit when she saw the message appear on one of the plasma TV monitors mounted on the ceiling that the shark feeding had been post-poned.
Hmm. Good.
More time with the sharks.
She stepped off the conveyor belt and returned to the world’s largest shark exhibit. This time, she raised both hands against the glass, her arms extended like wings, and imagined that she was flying with the sharks through a vast, water-filled sky.
A sky with no boundaries and no restraints.
But of course, the whole time her feet remained planted reluc-tantly on the floor of the aquarium.
32
Maria quickly pointed out the water quality testing stations, the quarantine tanks for ill or injured animals, and the stairwell beside the shark acclimation pool that led down to a small observation room on a lower level. Although I couldn’t be
sure what the animal husbandry area usually looked like, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
I gestured to a two-meter-long metal basket on the deck near the acclimation pool. “Is that for transferring the sharks?”
Maria nodded. “We call it the Cradle. Some of the sharks weigh over a thousand pounds. Without that we wouldn’t be able to get them into or out of the acclimation pool.” She aimed her finger at the three-inch-long hook that hung from the cable above the Cradle, and then guided my eyes up the cable, past the place it coiled around a large drum, to the control panel on the wall. “It’s hydraulic,” she said.
I noted that a lifeguard’s backboard and a highly advanced automated external defibrillator were hanging on the wall beside the controls, readily available in case any of the divers needed to be rescued. Next to them was a phone.
Maria’s eyes jumped restlessly across the room toward the door.
“Cassandra’s OK, right? I mean, nothing bad happened to her or anything? Right?”
“As far as we know, Cassandra’s fine,” Lien-hua said.
“But why would her car be here if she was OK, though?”
“Maria,” Lien-hua said gently, “can you tell me a little more about Cassandra’s work? What exactly does she do here? Is she an educator?” I noticed that Lien-hua had unobtrusively positioned her digital voice recorder in her pocket. I assumed she had also pressed “record.”
“No, that’s more what I do. I coordinate the tour guides’ schedules. Cassandra’s a researcher. She’s always diving with the sharks.”
Maria tapped the first two fingers of each hand rapidly against her thumbs. “Mostly, she’s studying the ampullae of Lorenzini.
Government work. A grant, I think. It’s kind of a big deal to the aquarium, being one of the leaders in the world in understanding the ability of sharks to-”
“Wait,” I said. “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to back up for a minute. The ampullae of what?”
