Enforcing the Paw

by Diane Kelly

  Undeterred by me shooting down all her ideas so far, Frankie spooned up another mouthful of oatmeal and held it aloft. “You said this Ryan guy is a techie, right? He installs Internet and cable? Maybe he tracked Adriana with some kind of gadget.”

  “Hey. You may be on to something now.” While I hadn’t spotted Ryan’s car near Adriana’s house, that didn’t mean he wasn’t preparing to pounce. Maybe Ryan had been lying in wait electronically. “He could have installed some type of GPS or tracking app on Adriana’s phone when they were still dating.”

  Surely she’d taken her phone with her when she’d left for the pharmacy last night. Cell phones were like underwear. Nobody left their home without it. Well, some did, I supposed. But they shouldn’t. And I’m talking both undies and cell phones.

  Frankie ate the bite of oatmeal and circled her spoon in the air. “You can also get those magnetic tracking thingies that stick to the bottom of a car. I saw one used in a television show once.”

  True. There were as many gadgets to spy on people as there were gadgets to protect a person’s privacy. Security devices, and devices that trumped other security devices, were a big business in America. Everyone seemed to want to know everything about everyone else, but they wanted to control what others knew about them.

  When we finished breakfast, I slapped on some makeup, brushed my teeth, and headed to the W1 station in my Smart Car. I’d bought the thing before I’d been partnered with Brigit. Its excellent gas mileage and easy-to-park compact size had made sense at the time. Of course, I didn’t know I’d soon be responsible for a furry dog that weighed nearly as much as I did. Had I known, I’d have opted for a hybrid SUV.

  I parked and took Brigit inside with me, heading down the hall to Detective Bustamente’s office. He was sitting at his desk, staring straight ahead, repeatedly riffling a stack of sticky notes. Rrrrriffle. Rrrrriffle. He looked up as I took the liberty of stepping into his office without waiting for an invitation.

  “You thinking about the stalker case?” I asked.

  “I am.” He tossed the sticky pad on his desk. “I heard what happened last night.”

  “Do you think I made the right call? Bringing Ryan in?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “It might be a relief, but it’s also a moot point. The assistant DA disagrees with us.”

  “What?” I groaned and flopped down into one of his chairs. Brigit, in turn, flopped down at my feet.

  “Downey bonded out already,” the detective said, “and his defense attorney has raised a stink. They say we’re going after the victim. He’s threatened to make fools of us. The assistant DA that’s been assigned the case is balking.”

  I was familiar with many of the ADAs and none were wimps. A menacing defense attorney would only fuel their determination to get a conviction, not make them back down. They did like to keep their stats up, though, and they didn’t like to waste time and resources on cases they weren’t likely to win, especially when their caseloads were extremely heavy. Couldn’t much blame them for that. Given the questionable evidence against Ryan, it wasn’t entirely a surprise the DA wasn’t excited about moving ahead.

  I leaned forward in the chair. “What if we could show that Ryan had tracked Adriana? That he’d used a GPS device on her car or put some type of tracking device on her phone? Do you think that would change things?”

  “It might,” Bustamente said, “or it might not. One on her car would certainly be suspicious. But if there was something on her phone, some type of app, for instance, who’s to say she didn’t put it there?”

  Damn it. He’s right. “Should I check her car? Just in case?”

  “Can’t hurt,” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about those two. Whoever is causing problems isn’t getting over it.”

  “If it’s Ryan,” I said, “maybe his arrest will make him think twice about doing something else. If it’s Adriana, maybe she’ll consider his arrest to be the chunk of flesh she needs to be satisfied.”

  “I hope you’re right, Officer Luz,” he said. “But I’m afraid that might be wishful thinking.”

  Brigit and I bade him good-bye, hopped into our cruiser, and headed over to the rehab center. I found Adriana’s car parked in the employee section behind the building. I parked in an empty spot nearby and climbed out, bringing my Maglite with me.

  I lay down on my back next to her car and shined my flashlight around. There were all kinds of metal in all sorts of shapes. I had no idea what I was looking for. What does a GPS device even look like? I could be staring right at the thing and not even know it.

  I sat up, pulled my phone from my pocket, and ran a search on the Internet. Dozens of different devices came up. Some of the models could be secreted in a glove compartment or ashtray, or under a seat, tracking the vehicle’s whereabouts for later access. That type of device would be of no use in this instance, as it did not provide immediate information. I scrolled down, reading the specs on other devices, looking for models that gave real-time information. While some had limited battery life and would have to be removed and recharged on a regular basis, my common sense told me that if Ryan had installed such a device, he would have chosen one with a long battery life so that he wouldn’t risk being caught removing or later reattaching the device.

  I slid the phone back into my pocket. With the images in mind, I lay back once again and shined my flashlight around. Still, I saw nothing. Hmm.

  My cell phone pinged in my pocket. I pulled it out again. The readout indicated it was Adriana on the line.

  I jabbed the button to accept the call. “Hello, Miss Valdez.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “I can see you from my window.”

  I looked up to the third floor and saw her standing at her window. Even at this distance, I could tell she wasn’t making direct eye contact. As always, she was dressed in something drab. What does she have against color? Had she once fallen in a puddle while looking up at a rainbow? I raised a hand and she raised hers in return.

  “I’m looking to see if Ryan might have attached a GPS device to your car so he could track your location.”

  “Oh my God!” she gushed on a shaky breath. “I didn’t even think of that.”

  “It’s also possible he might have put one on your phone,” I said. “Most people carry their phones with them at all times—”

  “So if someone knows where a person’s phone is, they know where the person is?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I always have my phone with me,” she said. “Especially now, with all this weird stuff going on.”

  “Did you ever give him your password for the app store?”

  “Not that I remember,” she said, “but I couldn’t swear to it. He used my phone once or twice when his was out in his car or in another room or whatever. He synched our calendars, too, but I was able to unsynch them after we broke up. I don’t want him knowing what I’m doing, obviously.”

  “Has your phone been doing anything unusual?” I asked. “Do you run out of data faster than normal? Or does the battery wear down more quickly than it used to?”

  “Gosh,” she said, “I can’t say. I mean, I haven’t noticed that happening, but I really haven’t been paying much attention, either. Should I call my provider and see if I can get a report on my data usage or something?”

  “You should definitely find out for your own protection. Maybe visit your provider’s store and have one of their people take a look at the phone. But as far as the case is concerned, even if there was some type of tracking installed on your phone, the prosecutor will say it will be impossible to prove who downloaded the app.”

  When Adriana spoke again, she sounded miffed. “I thought prosecutors were supposed to be on the victim’s side.”

  “They are,” I said. “But part of that is thinking like a criminal defense attorney, considering what arguments would be made on the defendant’s behalf. That helps them better build thei
r cases and keep from putting victims through traumatic court proceedings they aren’t likely to win.”

  “I get it,” she said. “I don’t like it, but I get it. Are you having any luck with my car?”

  “Not really.” I thought things over for a moment. While I knew little about cars, I knew someone who knew a lot about them. Seth. Maybe I should have him come take a look, see if he could find a tracking device. “Do you mind if I have someone else come take a look?”

  “That’s fine with me. If Ryan put something on my car I’d really like to know.”

  We ended the call and I phoned Seth. He had the day off and I caught him at home. “Want to help me out?”

  “In exchange for…?” He waited for me to fill in the blank.

  “My eternal gratitude.”

  “Gratitude?” He gave me a pffft. “I was thinking more along the lines of another back rub.”

  “You got it.” Heck, he didn’t have to ask me twice. I loved touching his broad, strong shoulders.

  He arrived in his Nova fifteen minutes later with Blast in the backseat. He parked next to my cruiser and our dogs greeted each other through the open windows with tail wags and barks.

  Woof-woof!

  Arf!

  I handed him my flashlight and he did the same thing I’d done earlier, lying down on his back next to the car.

  “I don’t see anything over here,” he said after looking under the driver’s side. He repeated the routine on the passenger side. “Don’t see anything over here, either.” He checked the undercarriage from both the front and back, too. “Nothing.” He stood back and cocked his head in thought. “Any chance it could be in the engine?”

  Who knows? “Let’s find out.”

  I dialed Adriana’s cell phone. When she answered I told her that there didn’t appear to be anything under the car. “We’d like to check under the hood. Can you unlock your car so we can pop it open?”

  “All right.”

  A moment later, we saw her at the window, pointing her key fob at her car. The headlights flashed and we heard a click as the door locks released. I opened the passenger door and gave a thumbs-up to Adriana.

  As I slid into the driver’s seat, Seth ducked his head inside the car. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a car this clean. Not one that wasn’t brand-new and on a sales lot.”

  “Adriana’s a little—”

  “Uptight?” he supplied for me.

  “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  “I’m glad you’re not that way,” he said.

  “Hey!” I said. “I’m clean.” It was true. I wasn’t a germaphobe like Adriana, and I didn’t shelve all my books by height, but I kept things reasonably sanitary and neat. It wasn’t difficult when you only owned little more than the bare essentials. Of course everything I owned sported a stray strand or two of dog hair. It was impossible to be immaculate with a dog around.

  I tugged on the release for the hood.

  Pop.

  Seth circled back to the front of the car and raised the hood. I climbed out, closed the door, and stepped up next to him. He leaned in, shining the flashlight between the parts. While I could identify the battery and the reservoir for the windshield wiper fluid, I had no idea what all of the other parts were for.

  “Aha!” Seth said a moment later. “There’s something that’s not supposed to be there.”

  He shined the light on a small black rectangle hidden along the front. It looked very similar to the devices I’d seen in the photographs.

  I exhaled sharply in relief. I had little doubt Ryan had put this device in Adriana’s car. I’d been right to arrest him. With any luck, this piece of evidence would mark the end of this investigation and the beginning of a new life, free from harassment, for Adriana. I fought the urge to shout hip-hip-hooray!

  I snapped several pics of the device in place as well as one of Seth flexing his bicep, despite the fact that it was his mental muscle, not his physical muscle, that he’d been using. After returning my phone to my pocket, I donned latex gloves and plucked the device from the metal, having to wiggle it a little to break the magnetic bond. It was ironic, I thought, that Ryan had put something magnetic in her car. Magnets were drawn together when they were opposites, just like Adriana and Ryan seemed to be opposites. I dropped the GPS into an evidence bag, sealed it, and tugged off the gloves, wiping my hands on my pants to remove the excess powder.

  After Seth closed the hood, my phone rang again. It was Adriana. “I saw you pull something out and put it in a bag. You found a GPS, didn’t you?” Her voice was high and slightly frantic. “Ryan was tracking me?”

  “We did find a device,” I said. “But it’s out now. Try not to worry, okay? I’ll take it to our crime scene techs and see if they can find prints on it.” Now that Ryan had been booked, we’d have prints to compare them to so that we could know for certain if they were his. “You might also want to apply for a protective order yourself. There are forms online that you can download.”

  “I’ll do that,” she said. “Thanks, Officer Luz. Please thank the guy with you, too. Who is he, by the way? Maybe I should come down in person.”

  Lest she have designs on my man, I merely said, “He’s an associate. No need to come down. We have to roll.” With a quick promise to let her know the results of the fingerprint search, I ended the call.

  I returned to the station, where I passed the GPS device on to the crime scene techs for analysis. “If you find any prints,” I told them, “see if they match a man by the name of Ryan Downey. He was booked last night.”

  “Downey,” the tech said as he took the baggie from me. “Got it.”

  We picked up lunch on the way back to my house, where I treated Seth to that back rub he’d bargained for. After all, that’s what relationships are about, right? Give-and-take.

  THIRTY-THREE

  SQUIRREL SNACK

  Brigit

  There he is, she communicated silently to Blast in her canine way.

  The two of them were hunkered down beside the doghouse in the backyard, hidden from view. That stupid squirrel had come down from the tree to scavenge for pecans on the lawn. He didn’t realize the dogs were in the yard. Well, he was about to find out. The hard way.

  Brigit slowly rose to a crouch, her neck stretched, her head extended out in front of her. Every muscle in her body was tensed. Blast did the same. Now that she was in the ready position, Brigit’s mouth began to water. She hadn’t ever caught a squirrel, but she could imagine what it would taste like. Probably chicken.

  Ready? she conveyed to Blast.

  Get set.

  GO!

  The two bolted out from behind the doghouse and tore their way across the lawn, kicking up grass and dirt behind them. The squirrel turned their way, dropped his nut, and streamed across the yard, a small brown blur.

  He reached the base of the tree and sprang up it. Brigit leaped after him and snapped her teeth hard. Snap! Beside her, Blast did the same. Snap!

  Dang. They’d just missed him. All they had to show for their efforts were a few pieces of squirrel fur on their tongues.

  It was probably just as well, Brigit thought. If she ever caught and ate that squirrel, the backyard wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. But if she couldn’t have the squirrel, she could at least have his nut. She picked the pecan up from the ground and crunched it between her teeth, the squirrel scolding her all the while. Chit-chit-chit!

  THIRTY-FOUR

  EVER AFTER

  Adriana

  “Happily ever after” was nothing more than a fairy tale, a myth, a lie. A fantasy, just like the stories in comic books.

  Her and Ryan’s love story would not have a happy ending, either.

  But there was still a chapter or two left to write before the end.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  ORDER IN THE COURT

  Megan

  Friday morning we finally got a break in the lollipop theft investigation. A few minutes after ten, Br
igit and I were cruising past John Peter Smith Hospital when I saw a man with short, sandy hair walking up the sidewalk from the opposite direction. He had a medical mask hanging around his neck and what appeared to be a surgical cap tucked into the pocket of his green scrubs. He also had a white sucker stick protruding from his mouth.

  Is this him? Is this the Lollipop Bandit?

  My heart pulsed double time as I pulled to the curb and unrolled the passenger window. “Excuse me, sir?”

  He cast a glance my way and froze in his tracks, his eyes wide and wary.

  I gestured to the stick in his mouth. “By any chance is that a grape Tootsie Pop in your mouth?”

  He shook his head emphatically but said nothing.

  I raised a finger. “Stay right there.”

  He waited on the sidewalk while I climbed out of the cruiser and walked over to him. His lips were pursed so tight around the lollipop stick it was a wonder the thing didn’t snap in two. The wild look in his blue eyes told me he might be thinking of swallowing the evidence and was contemplating the potential health consequences.

  I gestured to his mouth. “Mind showing me your sucker?”

  He shook his head.

  “No you don’t mind?” I asked. “Or no you aren’t going to show it to me?”

  He opened his mouth as little as possible when he spoke, but it was still enough for me to see that his tongue and lips bore a purple tinge. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “That’s true,” I replied. “Your purple tongue just spoke for you.”

  His eyes flashed in alarm as I pulled my handcuffs from my belt.

  “Where’d you steal the suckers from today?” I asked.

  He opened his mouth as if to respond, said, “I … uh…” and turned to take off running. Sheesh. Petty theft of candy would be a Class C misdemeanor, punishable only by a fine, but now he could add resisting arrest to his charges. Resisting arrest was a Class A crime, punishable by up to a year of jail time.