by Al Boudreau
The receptionist hesitated. “Oh, all right, but I hope your travel budget is nicely topped-off. Shana Luke left two weeks ago for Costa Rica.”
Chapter 16
I sat in the police cruiser staring at Detective James, trying to decide who was more shell-shocked: him or me. The news that Rachel Webber’s boss – our only potential asset at Hy-Tek Solutions – had left the country for good was not the news we’d hoped to hear. This woman’s absence would make it nearly impossible to glean pertinent information about the origins of Rachel Webber’s problems. Not to mention the glaringly obvious fact that we’d been beaten to the punch once again. It was almost as if the individuals responsible for creating the dead ends we kept running up against anticipated our every move.
James broke the disturbing silence. “I say we head back to the station and put a call in to Officer Kent. Maybe Troy PD has had contact with Rose Stanton’s superiors at Bio-File.”
“Why not?” I replied. “I could really go for a little more bad news this morning.”
“Listen, Carter, I know you’re feeling discouraged. But we can’t stop looking under stones.” James pulled out onto the main road and headed back toward the station. “Eventually we’re going to uncover a piece of the puzzle that will make all the other pieces fall into place. Don’t give up on me, buddy. We’ve got this.”
“I can’t give up. But it sure would be nice to catch a break pretty soon. We’ve been left staring at too many brick walls and closed doors for my liking.”
“I’ll admit, this is a tough one. It’s personal. For both of us. Which is exactly why we’re going to emerge victorious. We both know Sarah is tough. She can take care of herself. And I don’t know why, but I feel as though we’re close to a breakthrough.”
“Thanks, James.”
“For what?”
“For picking my sad, sorry butt up off the ground when I start to go dark. I know it’s partially due to a lack of sleep.”
“No problem, Carter. No doubt you’d do the same for me. Sarah’s lucky to have a man like you in her life.”
“I hope she feels that way when this whole ordeal is over.”
“By the way, speaking of good men, I almost forgot about this. When I was talking to Chief Goodhue this morning he suggested we run a piece in the local newspapers about Sarah’s disappearance. You know, post a recent picture of her and such. It might put pressure on whoever has her to let her go.”
“Seems risky. I don’t want to gamble with her safety,” I said.
“Your call, but I’m with the chief on this one. We both feel as though it would help. And the department will handle all of it. All you’d have to do is provide a photo for us to upload.”
“Mind if I think about it for a bit?”
James nodded. “By all means. The offer stands if and when you’re ready.”
James wheeled the cruiser into the station parking lot. I immediately spotted a vehicle that made my face flush. “Uh-oh. That’s not good.” Parked directly beside Sarah’s car was a white Homeland Security FPS vehicle.
Without a word, James drove straight through the lot and back onto the street. “Guess we’ll be needing a makeshift office for a bit,” he said. “Which coffee shop would you prefer?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Let’s hit The Hometown Diner. That place was our makeshift office when Sarah and I first started working together. Maybe it’ll help clear my head.”
“You’ve got it. I like their food the best out of all the places in Bridgeport, so no argument here. By the way, I meant to ask you about Brian’s friend. Didn’t you say the kid goes to MIT?”
“Yep.”
“I’m curious what Brian thought this kid would be able to accomplish that we couldn’t?”
I chuckled. “He said the kid was a genius, whatever that actually means these days. And that some company paid him $200 thousand for a system he designed. At least that’s the story Brian told me.”
“You believe him? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Brian’s great, but kids have a tendency to exaggerate, you know?”
“I’ve never known Sarah’s son to be much of a storyteller. He’s straightforward most of the time. But this friend of his could be filling his head full of garbage, too. Who knows, maybe they’ll be the ones to locate her.” I laughed and James joined in.
“That would be something, wouldn’t it?”
We arrived at The Hometown Diner to find the parking lot at full capacity. “Guess we’re not the only ones who like this joint,” James said. He drove down the street 20 yards and found a parking spot, curbside. We climbed out, and I waited for him to feed the parking meter. He neglected to do so and began walking toward the diner. I reached in my pocket for some quarters and dropped one in the slot.
“Save your money, Carter. We’re driving a municipal vehicle, remember? It’s one of the few perks us cops have.”
I shook my head, realizing that if I didn’t get some sleep soon I was going to collapse. “Force of habit,” I said as I caught up to James.
We climbed the steps and entered the diner. The place was hopping, with every booth, seat, and stool occupied. One of the regular wait staff made her way toward us. “Hi, Carter. Hello, Detective. I’ve got a booth opening up now. I’ll have you fellas seated in a few seconds, okay?”
“Sounds good,” I replied. I waved to a few folks I recognized while we waited. Our server waved us over and we took a seat in the booth.
I began massaging my temples as the server came to take our order. “Give me the special and a cup of coffee, please.”
“Same for me,” James said.
“Coming up, fellas,” she said and scurried off.
“We really need to find Creitz and get him in a room,” James said. “We’ve scoured every database available now. There’s no criminal history on the guy. Not even a parking ticket. I’ve been leaning hard toward him as the facilitator of all this wreckage, but the lack of a record makes it tough to explain away. No one is that good.”
“Yep, I still say he’s too convenient. Pinning a case this far-reaching on just one individual feels like a total stretch.”
“But let’s not forget about Creitz’s net worth,” James said. “All that money had to come from somewhere. Tough to put together all that scratch and still be 100% legit.”
“True.”
“Here you go, guys.” Our server set two plates of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas down in front of us. “Anything else you need at the moment?”
We both shook our heads, our mouths already too full to speak. I thought about all the times I’d sat in one of these booths, across from Sarah, and shared this same dish with her.
“Who do we know that can shine a light on wherever Creitz is hiding? If he’s hiding, that is. It almost seems as though the feds don’t want to locate him.”
“We may have to start calling him Whitey,” I said.
James chuckled. “Well, you can’t really use good old Whitey as an example any more. He’s doing time now.”
“He had a good run though, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he sure did,” James replied. “Let’s hope Roland Creitz isn’t one of Whitey’s disciples. We’ll never catch the guy.”
The two of us remained silent for a moment as we devoured our food. I wondered what was happening back at the police station in regard to the Federal Protective Service vehicle we saw. I wasn’t all that eager to broach the subject, for fear James might make a call and find out, but my curiosity got the better of me.
“What do you suppose Chief Goodhue is going to say when he finds out about my run-in with Homeland Security in Boston this morning?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here, Carter, and say he probably knows by now.”
“Wish I could have been a fly on the wall during that meeting. I wonder if the unit we saw in the parking lot belongs to Dominic Caldwell. That guy has got to be gunning for me.”
James slapped his palms down on the ta
ble. “Here’s the deal. You said you didn’t break any laws, right? If your buddies on the Boston police force felt strongly enough about what they saw to come to your aid, I doubt whatever claptrap Caldwell, or anyone else from Homeland, comes up with is going to hold water with the chief. He’s got a pretty good nose for bullshit.”
“The chief has been more than gracious through all of this,” I said. “I just hope the feds don’t try and pull some power play in order to shut us down.”
“You’re part of the fraternity, Carter. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer on the force.”
I felt a huge grin forming on my face. “Here it comes. Go ahead. You know you want to say it.”
James raised his chin in the air. “Once a cop, always a cop.” We both busted out laughing. “I do say that a lot, don’t I?”
“Yeah, you do. Please don’t ever stop.”
“So, you want me to call him?” James asked.
“Who?”
“The chief.”
“Uh. Yeah. I’m dying, here. I’ve got to know what went down.”
James picked up his phone and called the station. “Penny, this is James. Give me the chief, will you?”
I reached inside my pocket, pulled the pieces of my phone out, and reassembled it. No new messages.
James continued his phone conversation. “I’m with Carter. We’re down at The Hometown Diner.” A few seconds later he ended the call with a shrug. “He didn’t sound agitated. Wants us to sit tight. Said he’s coming to join us.”
“Why would the chief be coming down here?” I asked. “I’ve never seen the guy in a coffee shop as long as I’ve lived in Bridgeport.”
“We’ll know in five minutes or so. Just remember, you’re the one who wanted me to call him.” James slid his phone in his pocket and waved our server over for a refill.
“Getting back to Roland Crietz for a minute, do we have anyone in the shadows who could locate this guy for us?”
“We as in me?” James asked. “I have my share of confidential informants, some of whom go pretty deep, but Creitz isn’t a local player. However, don’t be too quick to write off the boys in Troy. Officer Kent isn’t a detective, but he will be. He’s one of the good ones. My gut tells me he’s going to come through for us.”
I was about to respond when Chief Goodhue appeared. “Slide over, James.”
“Coffee, Chief?” James asked.
“What do you think?”
I caught our server’s eye, held my cup in the air, and pointed toward the chief.
“Heard you had a little excitement down in the city this morning, Carter.”
“I did nothing to provoke that run-in,” I replied.
The chief held up his hands. “Don’t get all defensive. I didn’t say you did.”
“Who told you? Caldwell?”
I watched the chief confirm my suspicions with a subtle nod. “He’s pushing pretty hard for me to shut you two down. Seems you’ve gotten under his skin.”
“Shut us down on what grounds?” James asked.
“Homeland’s usual gripe. You two are hindering an operation sensitive to national security, blah, blah, blah.”
I fought back a laugh, unsure how the chief would take it. “How did you respond?” I asked.
The chief gave me a big grin. “I told him I’d take it under advisement. Those guys only understand fed-speak. A simple no would never have sufficed. Too uncomplicated. Those guys have a hard time processing anything that’s not wrapped in red tape.”
James nodded. “That’s for sure.”
The chief thanked our server for his coffee, took a sip, and continued. “In all seriousness, you guys must be getting close to breaking this case wide open, because you seem to be making the feds very nervous. Which makes me very nervous.” He paused long enough to chug half his cup of coffee like it was ice water on a 100-degree day. “Watch your step from here on in. I’ll back you as far as I can, but when it comes to Homeland, this could all go sideways without any warning. And at that point there’ll be nothing I can do. Keep your noses clean. Don’t give these folks a reason to drop the hammer, because they will.” The chief threw down a twenty, finished his coffee, and got up to leave. “This one’s on me, boys.”
“Before you go, Chief, I want to thank you for offering to petition the local papers to run a piece on Sarah’s abduction. I think I’d like you to go ahead and get that done. I have a photo in my phone that I’ll send you.”
“No problem, Carter.”
“Still think he has it in for you?” James asked after Goodhue left.
“Guess not.” I slid my empty plate toward the end of the table and got ready to leave. We headed out to James’s car.
“Let’s give Troy PD a call. See if we can get an update,” James said as he climbed in and placed his phone on the dashboard.
“This is Detective James with the Bridgeport NH Police Department. Is Officer Kent available, please?”
“Speaking.”
“Hey, Kent. Has anyone in your department paid a visit to Bio-File yet? We’re wondering if Rose Stanton’s boss might supply us with some useful information.”
“Good timing. I just got back from Bio-File. Apparently the company lost their CFO to a competitor about six months ago, so this Stanton woman was doing her best to fill the CFO’s shoes while they searched for a replacement. The woman I spoke with in personnel said Stanton was quite overwhelmed by all that responsibility, coupled with her normal accounting workload, but said she was doing as good a job as anyone could under the circumstances. I guess her death came as a real shock to everyone who worked with her.”
James and I looked at one another with a combination of surprise and knowing. James pulled out his notebook and started jotting the information down. “Sorry, Kent. I’m trying to take a few notes here while we talk.”
“Good, because there’s more. My partner’s here with Stanton’s husband now. Apparently Rose Stanton brought her work home with her and logged some late hours. The husband said sometimes she wouldn’t come to bed until one or two in the morning. I guess there were some anomalies in Bio-File’s books that she couldn’t square. As a result, their home was literally a satellite office for the accounting side of the company.
“James, someone must have been keeping a pretty close eye on their home, because Mr. Stanton went out first thing this morning to make arrangements for his wife’s services, and while he was gone someone tossed the place. Whoever broke in took all the company’s records, and all of the Stanton’s computers. We’ve got a team at their place now, but our lead investigator claims whoever hit the place was a pro. No sign of forced entry, and so far, no prints. We’ll keep you in the loop on this, but we don’t expect to find much.”
“Okay. One other item. Where do we stand on Roland Creitz?”
“No updates as of yet, but we’re working with the Bureau to try and locate this guy. I’m fairly confident we’ll know more this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Kent,” James said and ended the call.
“Well, that’s that,” I said.
“Safe to say we’ve got a cover-up on our hands.”
“Yeah, someone is going to great lengths to keep their secrets secret. You know, even if this case didn’t involve Sarah, I feel like I’d have to see it through to the end. It’s got me twisted in a knot. I feel the need to break it wide open.” I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, about to ask James to swing by my place, when my cell phone rang. It was Brian. I answered the call and hit speaker. “Hey, Brian.”
“Carter, I think we found her. I think we found my mom!”
James and I traded looks of disbelief. “Okay, please take a breath then explain to me exactly what you’re talking about.”
“Remember this morning when I told you my friend down at MIT said he’d try to help us find my mom? His name is Shin. He designed this black box that allows him to locate people by the speech signatures of their voices. He’s very sure we have
a fix on where Mom is right now.”
I was skeptical but decided to play along. “And where does he think she is?”
“Sentinel Village.”
“You mean Bridgeport’s Sentinel Village?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you and Shin now?” I asked.
“We just passed through the NH tolls on 95. We’ll be in Bridgeport in ten minutes.”
Chapter 17
James and I sat staring at each other. “What’s our move here?” I asked.
“I guess it all depends on whether Shin and his tech gadget are for real.”
“I honestly don’t know. I have nothing to go on other than Brian’s apparent belief that his buddy can deliver.”
James stood up. “Call him back. Tell them to meet us at the station. Let’s see what they’ve got. If it looks credible we’ll run it by the chief.”
I contacted Brian and informed him of our plan while following James out to his cruiser. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want the chief to think we’re wasting his time.”
“Right now we’ve got nothing actionable in terms of Sarah’s whereabouts, nor do we have a single solid lead on who’s really behind any one of these three homicides. What do we have to lose by giving the kid a chance to convince us he’s onto something?”
I thought about what James said. “You’re right. I’d hate to dismiss this kid then find out, after the fact, he was all over it.” I found myself staring at my phone on the short ride to the station, as if by some stroke it would transform into a Magic 8 Ball and show me the answer. “What if we deem the kid’s information credible? Do we bring the feds up to speed?”
“I doubt it. My hunch is that the chief would send all of our available units and keep it in-house. He doesn’t have much use for the feds.”
“That makes two of us,” I said, now within spitting distance of the station. “Funny, I don’t see the Buick. Brian and Shin should have been here by now.”
“Thought they’d just passed through the 95 tolls when you were talking to him,” James said with a serious look on his face.
