by Al Boudreau
“All true,” James said. “Plus, we have an eyewitness who confirmed Ryan Iacona has had a great deal of contact with Anthony Turner, a known felon with multiple aliases. And they both have been pushing the dark web.”
“You’re right,” Sarah said. “I know you’re both right. It’s just a bitter pill for me to swallow.” Sarah was quiet for a moment, then sat back down and slapped her palms on the table. “I’m sorry I was rude, Detective. You didn’t deserve that.”
“No worries, Sarah. I get it.”
“All right, then,” Sarah said, “let’s say Ryan is in on the crime. How do we go about proving it?”
“It’s entirely possible he’s in Vegas with the others,” I said. “If you’re underage and found gambling or loitering within a property’s gaming area, the staff will ask you to leave, but there’s nothing else stopping a sixteen-year-old kid from being there.”
“Vegas has a ten p.m. street curfew for anyone under eighteen,” James said. “We can check his driver’s license and social security number and have Vegas PD issue a BOLO.”
“We’ve got little else,” Sarah said, “so let’s do it. Let’s find this kid.”
Chapter 18
Sarah hadn’t said more than a dozen words during the short drive home from Bridgeport Police Department.
“This case got you down?” I asked as we pulled into the driveway. I killed the engine, sat back, and waited for a response.
Sarah looked down at her hands as they fidgeted with the house keys. “It hits a little close to home for me, that’s all. What if Brian had followed a different path? What if it was my kid who was missing? I mean, whether Ryan Iacona’s been abducted, or he’s secretly involved in some crazy scam, I’d be dying inside.”
“There’s one key difference,” I said, “and it’s called parenting. You and your husband worked hard to raise a good kid. One with morals, ethics, and a strong desire to be a decent adult.”
“Yeah, I realize all that. But, poor Nelda Iacona. I’m sure she at least tried.”
“You have to try harder to remove emotion from the equation, or you’ll break down.” I reached over, squeezed her hand, and smiled. “We’re going to find Ryan Iacona.”
“I’m gonna give Brian a call. I just need to hear his voice right now.”
I sat back and watched her walk inside the house, wondering where the perfect balance lay. I knew I’d become a bit too jaded by all I’d seen over the years, but it wasn’t healthy to be overly invested in our clients, either, as Sarah tended to get.
I swung the car door wide and was about to head inside when my cell phone rang. It was James.
“Carter. I started a search for those stolen Porsche Carreras and found a slew of ‘em stolen during the time frame of the latest Sixteen-Sixteen round. Then, I came across a bulletin reporting that fourteen 2017 Lexus LF-LC coupes were stolen between the hours of eight p.m. last night and seven a.m. this morning, all from dealerships located in New England and New York State. Sound like a familiar scenario to you?” James asked.
“That’s … unbelievable,” I muttered. “Can you run a search to find out if any have been recovered yet?”
“Of course. Bear with me for a second.”
I headed into the house, eager to share the news with Sarah. I could hear James’s fingers banging on the keyboard on the other end of the call as I searched the house for Sarah. I found her lying on our bed, talking on the phone.
“Found one,” James said. “Warwick, Rhode Island PD just recovered a black one. Give me a sec and I’ll—ha!”
“What?” I demanded.
“The police aren’t listing the individual’s name on the arrest report,” James said. “Care to guess why that is?”
“Because the crime was committed by a minor.”
“Wow, you’re good,” James said. “You ought to be a detective or something.”
“I’ve considered it,” I said. “What do you suppose the odds are that Ryan Iacona is behind the wheel of one of these cars?”
“I’m setting up a query as we speak, using his DOB, social, and driver’s license. This search will automatically refresh every thirty seconds. In the event we get a hit, the system will send a text, in real time, directly to my phone.”
“Good show. Call if you hear any more.”
I pocketed my phone and leaned against the bedroom door frame.
Sarah looked over at me. “OK, honey,” she said, “I’m gonna let you go. Have fun.”
“Brian?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. He’s at the beach with a few of his high school buddies. Sounds like they’re having a ball. Who were you just talking to?” she asked.
“Our talented detective at Bridgeport PD.”
“Did James find something?” Sarah asked as she sprung to her feet.
“He did. Determined that a raft of Porsche thefts took place during the corresponding Sixteen-Sixteen round we heard about. But, more importantly, a bunch of Lexuses were stolen from dealerships in the Northeast between eight last night and seven this morning. Cops in Connecticut made an arrest. Car was stolen by a minor.”
“You think Ryan Iacona’s playing the game, don’t you?” Sarah asked.
“Let’s just say I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t.”
“Grrr. I so hope you’re wrong.”
“Really? Better he gets arrested for car theft than harmed by some sociopath who cares about nothing but money.”
“I suppose,” she said. “I just hate to think someone so young could throw their life away by doing something so ridiculously stupid. At least if he was kidnapped and found unharmed, there’d be a happy ending to all of this.”
I crossed my arms and stared at Sarah for a beat.
“I know, I know, life doesn’t work that way.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You always say that,” Sarah said.
“Yeah, but not this time,” I said as I walked over to wrap my arms around her. “Don’t change. Keep thinking the way you think. Keep feeling the way you feel. It balances us out, personally and professionally.”
Sarah grabbed my arms. “You really mean that?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“Carter Peterson, I knew I love you for a reason,” Sarah said, then gave me a big kiss on the lips.
“That’s what I like—” The sound of my phone chirping interrupted our mutual fan club session. I checked the screen. “It’s James.” I hit the speaker. “What have you got?”
“Ryan Iacona.”
Chapter 19
“He’s here,” Sarah shouted.
I looked out the bedroom window and saw James’s unmarked cruiser sitting in our driveway. I grabbed my belongings and descended the stairs two at a time. “Let’s do this.”
We made our way out to the car, James tapping away on his steering wheel as he waited. “Can you believe it?” he asked as we jumped in, Sarah up front, me in the back.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Sarah said. “We need details.”
James turned and began backing out of the driveway. “Well, Ryan Iacona was pulled over on 101 east driving a bright red Lexus. I spoke with the state trooper that nabbed him. Said he noticed the window stickers were still affixed to the Lexus, yet Ryan used a license plate from his own car.” James laughed. “The trooper knew the vehicle should have either a dealer plate or a twenty-day temporary plate on it.”
I nodded. “Ran the car’s VIN and found out it was stolen.”
“You got it,” James said. “They’re holding him at the state police barracks in Epping. I gave them a brief rundown of where we were at and asked if they’d hold off notifying the kid’s parents until we got there.”
“What’s our game plan?” Sarah asked.
“We have two choices,” James said. “We can help process Ryan and be done. Wash our hands of this entire caper, and let the police do their job. Or, we can pick up where the kid left off. You two are getting paid ei
ther way. We got Jay and Nelda Iacona’s kid back, so ...”
“Are you saying deliver the … the …”
“Brist,” I said.
“Thank you,” Sarah said. “You think we should help deliver the brist and attempt to take these guys down?”
“It would be a darn nice collar … for all of us,” James remarked. “I’m reasonably sure the state police would be up for it. They love that kind of press,” James said.
Sarah turned and looked through the cage at me. “What do you think, convict?” she said with a grin.
“I think I’m not a big fan of riding back here in the perp seat,” I said. “I say let’s make it happen.”
“Who’s going to drive the fancy red Lexus?” Sarah asked.
“Definitely one of the state troopers,” James replied. “Half of them look like teenagers, anyways.”
The comment made Sarah snicker. “That’s so true.”
“What if the finish line, or what have you, is in a state other than New Hampshire?” I asked.
“We’d have to coordinate with the police in that state,” James said.
We left the highway and followed the signs to our destination, located less than half a mile from the off-ramp.
Sarah pointed out the window as we pulled into the barracks parking lot. “Speaking of the fancy red Lexus, there it is.”
We all got out of James’s cruiser and headed across the parking lot, passing the fenced-in impound area. I stopped and eyeballed the pricey ride. “You know, maybe I should be the one to drive that thing to the finish line.”
Chapter 20
“We’re here to see Trooper Crane,” James said to the dispatcher sitting behind the thick bulletproof glass.
“Certainly. One moment.” The dispatcher picked up the phone, said a few words, and hung up. “He’s on his way up. Door to your right,” she said.
I walked over and noticed the door had no knob or handle on our side. I heard a buzzing sound just before the door swung wide and two state troopers entered the room. “Which one of you is Detective James?” the taller of the two asked.
“That’s me,” James replied.
“I’m Trooper Crane,” he said, and the two of them shook hands. “And this is Trooper Salizar.”
“This is Carter Peterson and his partner Sarah Woods, both private investigators from Bridgeport,” James said.
Formalities out of the way, Trooper Crane said, “You’ll each need to place all weapons in the bin, then step through the metal detector. After that, Trooper Salizar will pat each of you down. Once Salizar is done we can talk to Mr. Iacona.”
We complied with his instructions, after which we headed down a stairwell to the basement level with Trooper Crane. Once we reached the bottom of the stairs I locked eyes with Ryan Iacona for the very first time. He was sitting on a steel bench inside a holding cell.
Iacona was well-proportioned, but smaller than I’d had it in my head. He looked exhausted. And angry.
Trooper Crane unlocked the cage and motioned for Ryan to get up. The boy took his time, a blatant look of contempt on his face.
The three of us glanced at one another as Crane clicked cuffs on Ryan’s wrists and led him down a long hallway to a door that read Interview 3.
Crane said, “Please wait here in the hall until I get this one settled in.”
Judging by Crane’s choice of words, coupled with Iacona’s scowl and defiant demeanor, I suspected our boy had been a tad uncooperative with our law enforcement brethren.
Crane sat Iacona down, unlocked one of the bracelets to pass it under a steel bar bolted to the conference table, then clicked it back onto Iacona’s wrist. No sooner had Crane released Iacona’s wrist when the boy gave the set-up a test yank while glaring at the trooper. I looked at Crane’s face and could tell he needed to dig deep in order to stay calm.
Crane stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. “Don’t let Mr. Iacona’s size fool you,” he said. “This kid is volatile and unpredictable.” Crane then opened the door and motioned for us to go ahead inside.
“This kid have a phone on him?” James asked Crane.
“He did. If you need it now I can call upstairs and have Trooper Salizar bring it down,” Crane said.
“No, I’m all set for the moment, but I’d like to check it out before we leave,” James said, then closed the door and remained in the hall with Crane for a moment. Crane disappeared, then returned with Trooper Salizar. About a minute’s worth of conversation took place between the three of them before Salizar walked away.
James and Crane came in. While James joined us at the table, Crane stood over the detained youth’s left shoulder, back against the wall.
I nodded at James, letting him know I was comfortable with him starting the interview. “Mr. Iacona, my name is Detective James. I was assigned your case by my employer, the Bridgeport Police Department, and have headed up the investigation concerning your disappearance. Son, your parents are quite concerned for your safety. We were all under the impression you’d been abducted and held for ransom. Care to comment?”
“My folks don’t care about jack-shite,” Iacona snapped. “I’m not saying nothing about it to the rest of you, or nobody.”
Sarah looked horrified, probably upset with herself for having given this kid the benefit of the doubt.
James, on the other hand, was as cool as could be, maintaining a neutral attitude. “Pretty fancy car you were driving when Trooper Crane pulled you over. Mind telling me what you were doing with it, and where you were headed?”
“Yeah,” Iacona said, nodding so violently I thought he might herniate a disc in his neck. “I do mind. Like I told you before, I ain’t saying nothing, so, save your breath, pig.”
James looked at Sarah and me, then shook his head and frowned. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “You know, Ryan, you could have done yourself a huge favor by choosing to be cooperative with us. But you blew it, big time. I have a feeling you’ll remember this moment for a good long time, because you just sealed your own fate. Have fun.” James went and opened the door then waited for us to follow. He stared straight into Iacona’s eyes, clenched his jaw, and shook his head again before walking out behind us.
The three of us waited in the hall for Trooper Crane to come out. He made his way out to the hallway and closed the door behind him, leaving our rude detainee to sit there and stew. “Sad,” Crane said. “Too young to be jaded like that.”
Sarah hadn’t said a word, and didn’t look ready to now. I looked at James. “Well, where do we go from here?” I asked.
“I’m thinking we could check the kid’s phone to see if there are any directions indicating where he might have been heading with the Lexus. Short of that, I don’t see a way forward, in terms of trying to bust these crooks in the act.”
Crane motioned toward the stairs. “Let’s head up and look at his phone. I’ll have Salizar come back down and put Mr. Iacona in his cell. I’ve already had enough of that kid today.”
Crane was about halfway up the stairs when Salizar reappeared. “We’ve got a situation,” he said, excitement in his voice. “High-speed pursuit on 95 North. Originated in Dorchester, Mass. They’ve formally requested an assist and asked specifically for you and your Hellcat.”
“What, exactly, is the suspect driving?” Crane asked as he reached the top of the stairs.
“Suspects,” Salizar said. “Two white males, armed with rifles, driving a white Lexus, same year and model as the red one out in our impound lot.”
“I’ve got to go. Salizar will set you up with Mr. Iacona’s phone,” Crane said as he turned heel and walked off.
Chapter 21
“I can’t believe that kid,” Sarah said as we sat in a conference room waiting for Trooper Salizar. “What makes a sixteen year old so hardened?”
“Nothing but an act,” I said. “Kid hasn’t seen enough to become a hard case, yet.” I looked across the table at James. “See his face wh
en you hit him with that line about sealing his own fate? Kid was scared.”
James shrugged. “Yeah, well, at the risk of sounding cynical, it may already be too late to straighten him out.”
“Nah,” I said. “Kid will be all right. I was the same way at his age. I figured it out.”
“Carter Peterson, please tell me you weren’t even close to being as disrespectful as that little creep was to James a few minutes ago,” Sarah said.
“Worse,” I replied.
“I don’t believe it,” she said.
I was about to tell her and James a story when Trooper Crane appeared.
“Just wanted to let you know the pursuit I got called out on ended in Massachusetts, near the state line. State police got the Lexus slowed down with a spike strip, then spun them out with a driving maneuver. There was a shootout. One suspect dead. One injured, non-life threatening. No injuries to the good guys.”
“Do you have the names of the suspects?” James asked.
“Hold on. I’ll see if I can get them for you,” Crane said and left the room.
“Wonder if they’re members of the same crew we’ve been looking at,” James said.
“That would be a welcome development,” I said. “If those idiots get shut down, the Iaconas will have a much better chance of success when it comes to getting Ryan’s life turned around.”
“I’ve got the names and a bit more information,” Crane said as he walked in. “The man who was fatally shot was named Sergei Anatov. And the injured party … Anthony Turner.”
We all looked at one another. “Tonedeaf,” I said.
Crane looked confused but kept going. “A Dorchester police officer followed the stolen Lexus to a waterfront warehouse. The officer was in the process of arresting the driver, a seventeen-year-old male from Worcester, when Anatov and Turner came out of the building and began firing. Officer radioed for backup, but the suspects fled the scene before additional units arrived. Turns out this warehouse had nine of these brand new Lexus sports cars parked inside. Every one of them stolen.”
