by Robin Mahle
“Please, Marshall, just keep looking for him, okay? Keep working with the FBI and find him. I’ll stay off the grid; he won’t find me and I’ll be back in a few days or so. I promise to keep in touch so you know that I’m safe, but don’t come looking for me. You need to focus your efforts on helping the FBI. And I’m not in the chief’s car any more. Just talk to Jarrod.”
“I thought we were working together to find him?” He was pleading now.
“I can’t help you with anything if they send me away. I’ll be sitting around every day, wondering what the hell’s happening. Look, I don’t have that many minutes on this phone. I just wanted to tell you that I’m safe and I’ll be back soon. I promise I will explain everything. I just don’t know what it is that I’ll be explaining yet.”
“You’re not making any sense, Kate. Come on back now.”
“Goodbye, Marshall. I love you.”
She threw the phone out the window. If she’d learned anything about tracking a killer, it was never to use the same cell phone twice.
Midday was approaching now; she would be in Sacramento soon, maybe another forty-five minutes or so. How long had it been since she’d actually driven anywhere by herself? The past few months, she’d been shuffled around by others, monitoring, controlling every move she made. She convinced herself it had all been for her own good, but now, the fog was lifting with each passing mile. As much as she’d trusted and loved Marshall, she had given him control of her life, taking a back seat to much of the investigation.
Yes, he kept her involved to a degree, but just enough not to expose her to the true horror of what this killer had done. After seeing what had happened to Sam, she was truly lucky to have made it out alive. Although sometimes lately, she wished she hadn’t because that meant Sam would still be here.
The Sacramento exit off the I-5 South was approaching and, from the map, she knew she wanted Freeport Boulevard from there. A few more minutes down the road and she spotted an old motel; the SkyRacers Inn. It looked like a place that was within her budget and it was close enough to the Sacramento Police Station.
It looked like it might have been a Travel Lodge at some point in the past, but it was the sign on the lobby door that made her think twice about her decision. “No prostitution, no drugs, and no hot-plates!” She went in anyway.
The second-floor room smelled of mustiness and decay. The wallpaper that was once maybe a soft pastel blue with floral accents was now yellowed and peeling from the many smokers that had stayed over the years. When she turned on the air-conditioning unit below the window, it sputtered out a stale cigarette odor. Fortunately, though, cool air eventually replaced the stench.
“A couple of days… I can handle it,” she said. Her stomach was rumbling, realizing that the cheese Danish she had snatched off the tray on the way out of the Victoria was the only thing she’d eaten since about six this morning. No clothes, no toiletries; she would need to buy a few things as well.
More importantly, making contact with the only person she thought could be of any real use to her now had to be first on the agenda. Time on the road had given her the chance to lay out clearly the next few steps in her plan. Contacting anyone at the San Diego PD would be a mistake. With news of Sam’s death and everything that was happening, any of her friends there would question why she was on her own. At the very least, they’d tell Captain Hearn.
So, who was left? She didn’t know anyone in the Sacramento PD and walking in there and asking questions would raise a lot of red flags. Her face was all over the news; she couldn’t be seen. No, the only person who could help her now was the one person she’d hoped never to have to deal with again. Marc Aguilar, Channel 9 News.
He had been following her around for more than a month, ever since she came forward with the sketch. He didn’t believe her story, tried to discredit her, but she thought she had enough compelling information now to entice him to help. If it meant breaking a bigger story, he was the type to be all in.
Last she knew, he was in Rio Dell at the press conference the other day. He was on the six o’clock news broadcast every weeknight, so he would have made it back in time to be on the air.
It was two o’clock on a Monday; her best option would be to try the news station and see if they’d contact him for her. It was a long shot, but she’d have to say it involved the Reid case without disclosing it was her. That would probably do it.
She ran down to the local pharmacy to pick up a couple of new disposable phones, some toiletries, and t-shirts and sweat pants. “I’ll take this too,” Katie said, tossing a bag of chips and a soda from the stand next to the checkout.
Katie handed the lady sixty-four dollars. At this rate, she’d be through her money in a matter of days. The dodgy-looking motel cost seventy-five dollars. Did everyone in Sacramento forget that California was near bankrupt? Worst case, her parents would wire her money if she needed it.
Back at the motel, she loaded up the minutes on her new cell and called Channel 9. “I’d like to speak to Marc Aguilar, please.”
“May I ask who is calling?” the operator on the other end said.
“I have some information about the Katie Reid case he’s been working on. I think he’ll want to speak with me.”
“One moment, please.”
That was easy. She waited on hold for several minutes, getting annoyed that they were using up her time. “Come on, come on!”
“Marc Aguilar speaking. Who is this?”
“Mr. Aguilar, we met not too long ago. I think you know who I am.”
“Ms. Reid. This is an unexpected surprise. What is it that I can help you with?”
“Can you meet me in Sacramento? No one can know who you’re coming to see.”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you in Rio Dell, working to find your best friend’s killer? What are you doing in Sacramento? It seems you’ve got the FBI handling things for you now.”
“I need your help on some background information regarding Chief Robert Wilson. He used to be a detective with Sacramento PD and I need access to his files.”
“You think I can get access to that information? You give me too much credit, Ms. Reid. I might have some pull here in San Diego, but those guys don’t know me from Adam.”
“Look, you only have to tell them you’re expanding the story to include the original investigation and why Wilson transferred to Rio Dell. Do I need to tell you how to do your job, Mr. Aguilar?” His reluctance was unexpected; she would have to work harder and tossing insults at him was probably not the best way to achieve that.
The silence on the other end meant that he was either about to hang up on her or accept her proposition.
“Where do you want to meet?” he asked.
She hadn’t blown it. “There’s a diner a block from the police station. Can you meet me there tonight? How soon can you get here?”
“I’ll have to catch the next flight. I can probably be there by eight tonight. I’ll have to tell my boss where I’m going, but I think I can spin the whole background story idea. I’ll call you when I’m near, but plan on eight o’clock at the diner. You’d better have something good.”
During the several hours before their meeting, Katie had time to organize her thoughts, to figure out exactly what she wanted Aguilar to dig into. Funny thing was, it was the first time in months she’d actually felt truly safe. No one knew where she was and if no one knew, then he didn’t know either. She only hoped that her disappearing act wouldn’t come with consequences beyond that of her own.
Would Marshall forgive her for leaving? Maybe; if she came back with something significant. But he would probably still be pissed she didn’t come to him first; have him look into this, when in fact, she had. His reaction to her initial concern seemed dismissive, like she was grasping at straws while he was trying to follow real leads. What she knew for sure was that she’d better come back with something real.
23
Katie pulled into the parking lot
of the diner. The faded backlit sign barely illuminated the building’s entrance and the sky was almost completely dark now. She checked her watch; it was eight o’clock on the nose.
It didn’t seem quite as cold in the middle of the city as it had been farther north in Rio Dell. She had never spent much time in Sacramento and now remembered why. The economy had left several of the adjacent buildings abandoned, tagged by thugs. The police station was only a block away, but she supposed they had more important things to worry about than some graffiti sprayed on an abandoned shoe store.
She glanced around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching her, but at this time of night, she couldn’t see much. The streetlights were few and far between. She had parked as close to the front of the diner as she could.
Katie opened the glass door and went inside. It wasn’t one of those cool old fifties-style diners with mini jukeboxes at every table. This place was rundown with red vinyl booths, most of them torn, chipped-up blue laminate tabletops and a linoleum floor covered in black scuff marks. At second glance, she might have chosen a better meeting place.
Marc Aguilar stood out like a sore thumb with his perfect hair, tanned skin, and scary, bright white teeth. She wondered if he had tried to disguise himself because he was dressed in a Sacramento King’s t-shirt and plaid board shorts. He looked like a lost surfer.
“Pick that up at the airport, did ya?” She approached the table where he sat.
He mumbled something snide as she slid into the booth.
“I guess you’re wondering why I called you?”
“The thought had crossed my mind. You do have the FBI and Detective Avery at your disposal. I’ve been trying to figure out all day why you need me.”
The waitress approached with perfect timing. “Can I take your order?”
Marc deferred to Katie.
“I’ll have the jalapeno green chili burger with a side of seasoned fries and a large Coke.” She was famished and didn’t care what he thought, even if he was trying to hide a smile behind his menu.
“I’ll just have the chicken salad and an iced tea. Thanks.”
The waitress shuffled off, leaving them alone once again.
“Glad to see a girl who actually eats. You don’t see that much in my line of work,” he said.
“A salad? Really?”
“I ate on the plane. So, why don’t you tell me what this is all about and why you dragged me away from my beachfront condo to this—place. I only just returned from that po-dunk little hometown of yours, after watching the chief try to dismiss your friend’s death as an ‘unrelated incident.’”
His use of air quotes was getting annoying.
He scratched his head and cleared the frog from his throat, or rather removed his foot from his mouth. “I am sorry about your friend; I don’t mean to sound disrespectful.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much pain she was really in. “Listen, I’m pursuing another angle the FBI doesn’t know about and I’d like your help.”
“Why can’t your detective help you?”
“Because he isn’t sure I’m on the right track and he wants me to go into protective custody, which is where they were about to send me today. I sort of took off without anyone knowing about it.”
“I see. Does he know where you are and that you’re safe?”
“He knows I’m safe; that’s all.”
“Okay. What do you need from me?”
“I’d like to get some background information on Chief Wilson. He used to be a detective with Sacramento PD. I’d like to know how it came to be that a detective at a big city police department decided he wanted to take a position with Rio Dell PD to lead the investigation of my abduction case.”
“I’m listening.” His expression brightened at the thought of a potentially juicy story.
“Before we go any further, I need to know that I can trust you. You’re a reporter and our history hasn’t exactly been an amicable one. I know you’ve never put any stock in my resurfaced memories; that you think I made up all this stuff about remembering who took me.”
“Now, just wait. I’ll admit, your story was hard for me to swallow, but I’ll be the first one to say I’m sorry because after what happened to your friend, there’s no question that someone is after you. It’s very clear, to me anyway, that there is a connection, whether or not the FBI will admit it. And you’re right; I wondered why the memories surfaced twenty-odd years later. I mean, how could you be so sure that was what the guy looked like? It could have been any random person you had seen at any given point in your life, but you were so confident that he was the one who took you.”
“I can’t explain it, Mr. Aguilar, but I know it was him. And I need to know you get that now and will help me.”
The waitress came back with their food, which was a good thing because Katie felt as though she would faint if she didn’t eat something.
Marc pierced a dry piece of chicken from his salad and continued. “So what’s this thing you want to know about the chief, then?”
She assumed that was his way of agreeing to help her. But the smell of that burger was making her mouth water, so before continuing, she chomped down on it; the green chili dripping onto her chin. She didn’t care; it tasted damn good. Katie was beginning to feel like she could now go on. “Sam was left behind the rest stop on the outskirts of town and a maintenance crew found her the next day.”
“Yeah, so?” He crunched away on his iceberg lettuce.
“Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental that a maintenance crew showed up the very next day after she disappeared? That crew was only scheduled to go there once a month. By all rights, she shouldn’t have been found for weeks. Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful her body wasn’t left there to rot, but it just wasn’t sitting right with me. So, I had a look around the chief’s office earlier this morning. I found a note with a Caltrans number on it. It was their highway maintenance division. And not only that, the chief’s been really defensive lately, especially since the FBI got involved. And to be honest, he hasn’t been all that helpful since I came forward with the sketch.”
She took another bite and continued with a full mouth, “I don’t know. I just feel like he’s not telling us something, something big.”
Marc looked at her blankly, waiting for her to continue. Maybe she wasn’t presenting a compelling enough story and needed to elaborate to keep his attention. “I think he knew that maintenance crew would be there, or he scheduled it or something like that.”
Marc placed his fork down on his plate and dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He then deliberately rested his forearms on the table and leaned in. “Are you saying you think the chief killed your friend?” His words were barely above a whisper, as if there were ears all around and he wanted to be sure no one heard this ridiculous accusation.
“No. I’m saying I think he knows who did. I think he’s somehow connected to this individual and that’s why he transferred to Rio Dell and that’s why he made sure Sam was found almost immediately. He knew they would insist I go into custody if they thought there was a clear danger to me or my family. He wants me out of the way.”
Marc no longer had the look of a child about to be handed a giant lollipop. He seemed deflated and uninterested.
“I’m sure this must sound farfetched, but I’ve been dealing with him for several months and ever since I was able to remember what my abductor looked like, he—changed. At first, I thought it was because Marshall—Detective Avery—had taken over and the FBI was involved, but I think it’s more than that.” She wasn’t getting through to him and was starting to sound desperate.
“Okay, so say I help you find out more about Wilson’s record; what do you think it’s going to say that you don’t already know?”
“I want to know about his family, his wife, children; all of it. When they got married, where, you name it. I need to find something that
doesn’t fit.”
“Jesus, you realize you’re asking a hell of a lot here. Sac PD isn’t going to give me the guy’s personal history.”
“I know, but it’s a start. Then I thought you could find the rest out through your contacts. You must have contacts with the city or state; someone who can pull personal records.”
“Shit.” He rubbed his forehead.
For just a moment, she thought about Spencer; he did the same thing.
“I guess I do, yeah. I can’t believe you risked your safety to come down here and follow up on this. I gotta tell you, Katie, I’m not feeling it. But, as I’m here already, I’ll give you a day. I’ll get what I can tomorrow and after that, I would suggest you head back north and get yourself some protection. Let the professionals handle this.”
His dismissive attitude got under her skin, but what choice did she have? His inquiries wouldn’t raise eyebrows. He’d play it off like he was working an angle on the story. Wasn’t that what investigative reporters did? And, he was good at his job. As much as this guy had been on her over the past month, he knew how to dig into a story. This was her one and only chance to get to the bottom of Chief Wilson’s story and she wasn’t about to let it go.
“Thank you.” She began scribbling on a piece of paper. “Here’s my cell and where I’m staying. I trust that you won’t divulge this information to anyone else?”
“I give you my word.”
“Good. Call me when you’ve got something.”
“I’ll call you if I’ve got something and if I don’t have anything and the day’s over, I’m sorry, but I can’t justify hanging around up here to my boss. He’ll start asking questions. We’ll say our goodbyes and part ways; no one will know what we discussed.”
“I appreciate that.” She reached into her wallet and dropped two twenties. She didn’t want him to pay, even though her cash would dry up sooner rather than later if she didn’t watch her expenses. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Katie arrived back at her motel. It was nearly ten o’clock and she was exhausted. Having been awakened at the crack of dawn by Scarborough and then everything that had followed, she couldn’t believe her legs managed to carry her to the bed. But before lying down, she pulled the bedspread down to the bottom. No way was she going to put her bare skin on that thing; not in this place.
