“Can I take a look around the apartment?”
“Sure, but there’s nothing to see.”
She’s right. I walk through all the rooms and find nothing to tell me anything about Bethanie’s stay here or where they might be now.
The rental agent, still standing by the window when I return to the living room, asks, “About that deposit—do you know where I can find him?”
“I wish I did. When did he leave?”
“Saturday morning. Told me I could keep the third month’s rent even though he was here less than two. Didn’t say anything about what to do with the deposit. Must have been in a hurry because he left a refrigerator full of food.”
“He must not have been in too much of a hurry,” I add. “He had time to pack everything.”
Since my most recent employment was in the moving business, I know exactly what it takes to move an apartment this size. He must have planned to leave at least a day out, or maybe from the moment he out-of-the blue asked Bethanie to stay with him for the weekend.
“You really must not be that close a friend,” she says, looking skeptical again. “He didn’t have much of anything to pack. He rented a bed, table, two chairs. I had to call the rental company to have it moved out. But he left some money for my trouble. Says it all right here in this note.”
“Can I see it?”
“Nothing in it but instructions to call the rental company,” she says, handing me the note.
She’s right. There’s nothing here that might give me a clue what the hell is up with Cole. At the end of the note, he apologizes for inconveniencing the leasing agent. A serial killer wouldn’t do that, would he? I hand the note back to her.
“Keep it,” she says. “What I need is his forwarding address.”
“So do I.”
“Well, if I can’t find him, I guess I can’t give him his deposit, right? When you hear from him, tell him not to accuse me of keeping his money.”
Of course I don’t go back to school, but go home to think through everything and wait out the rest of the school day until I can go to Bethanie’s house. I’m still hoping that she’s somehow lost phone coverage, decided to spend another day with Cole wherever he is, before going home tonight where she’ll pick up on her original plan of saying she went to school from my house this morning. I wonder who she got to call Langdon and lie to Smythe. Probably Cole. Everything about him is a big fat lie. I check messages, praying Bethanie has left one of them, but it’s only Lana saying she’s missing a case file and asking me to check around her desk to see if she left it somewhere.
I find the file in the trash can beside her desk. It must have fallen off the tower of folders, papers, and notebooks. Considering she’s in a business where details are everything, and she’s very good at it, Lana is kind of messy. Okay, very messy—I barely found the desk. I try to decide if I should call Lana and let her know I found it, which would give it away that I’m home an hour early, or if that even matters, because if Bethanie is somewhere with Cole Whoever-He-Is, me skipping school is the least of my worries. In fact, it’s probably time I come clean with Lana because this whole thing is starting to feel way out of my league.
I take a look in the file hoping it’s related to her big Atlanta case, but it’s something about a carjacking in Denver. While I’m dialing Lana’s number at the police department, I notice the corner of a photo stuck in the sliver of space between her desk and filing cabinet. When I rescue the photo from the Bermuda Triangle that is Lana’s desk, I find a shot of three men standing on a sidewalk, talking. I’m about to put it on top of a stack of paper when a guy in the background of the photo catches my eye. To the left of the three men and almost clipped out of the picture is a car with its driver’s door open, a younger man either getting in or out, I can’t really tell. All the photographer got of him is his head above the car door. But that’s enough for me because even though he is slightly out of focus, I’m pretty sure the driver is Cole. Maybe that other photo I saw in Atlanta didn’t lie to me after all.
I hang up the phone and look through the mess on Lana’s desk for other pictures, hoping for some clue of why Cole would be in one of Lana’s photos, but there are none, so I study this one a little closer. The car he’s getting out of—it’s silver. There’s an icon on the hood and it’s in focus because the other three men in the photo are standing near the front of the car, but it’s too small to make it out. I grab my phone and take a picture of the photo so I can blow it up on my laptop.
Score—the car is a silver Porsche, which is what Roland from the apartment cleaning crew said Cole was driving. Even if he wasn’t the target of the photographer and was just a bystander, he couldn’t be an innocent one. That’s just too much coincidence. Maybe I was right about Cole being the missing suspect.
But Lana definitely said he was a middle-aged guy. If Cole was the suspect, the photographer would have him in focus, and those other guys would be in the background. Why would he be anywhere near Lana’s investigation, even if he wasn’t an actual target? He did say he’s from some town outside Atlanta. I suppose he could have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve been there a few times myself. Except Cole is making a serious habit of it—at the bodega, then at Bethanie’s car when the thug was waiting for her, now in this photo. According to him, he hasn’t been in Atlanta in a long time, but there he is getting out of a car on Peachtree Street in Midtown. I know the restaurant those guys are standing in front of. The back of the photo is dated six weeks ago. I don’t know why he’d be in this photo, or why he’d lie about not being in Atlanta recently, but I get the feeling it isn’t because he’s just some gold digger.
I’m thinking he’s a whole lot worse.
Chapter 19
I know I should involve Lana at this point, and I will, but first I need the kind of information on Cole I could get from a more reliable source than I could get from her. Whatever his story is, Lana will only give me the whitewashed version, if she tells me anything at all. No matter how good a police investigation is going, they never know as much about it as the street knows. That’s why they spend all that money on confidential informants. I don’t have any money, but I do have a friend who is just as good as any CI, and I’m hoping MJ can help me figure out who Cole is and how dangerous he might be. MJ has sworn off the life, but I know she still has plenty of connections. I just have to convince her to use them to help me.
When MJ opens her door, she actually looks relieved to see me.
“Chanti, you’re right on time.”
“For what?”
“Wait a minute. You’re not here to ask me about the bodega, are you?”
“You don’t have to worry about me getting in your business. I’m still dealing with my other friend’s problem. So why are you glad to see me?”
“You know how I’m trying to get my GED? I got this science exam Friday and I have to pass or they’ll make me retake the class. You’re like a genius and whatnot, right?”
“I wouldn’t say genius, but science is my thing. What are you studying?”
“Biology, and it’s kicking my butt.”
“All right, I’ll help you with your exam, but you have to help me first, and it’s big.”
“How big?”
“Remember that friend I was telling you about, the one I thought has a boyfriend who’s a gold digger?”
“The rich friend who has you so busy solving her problems that you ain’t got time for MJ? Yeah, I remember,” she says. I guess I’m not off the hook for acting like she doesn’t live down the block from me, and for barely talking to her since the Donnell situation. But I don’t have time to fix that now.
“I think dude is more than a gold digger. Like maybe he’s in some gang or maybe even a crime family. Do you have any contacts in Atlanta who could tell me something about him?”
“Chanti, you know I’m trying to live straight now—get my GED, not make my grandmother sorry she let me come live here, much
less violate my parole. Making a call like that is like making a recovering chocoholic walk through the Hershey factory.”
“I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. Here, I wrote down some information I have on him, including a physical description,” I say, handing her my notes. “I only have a first name.”
“It’s probably an alias, but maybe I can get something off the description and his timing in Denver and Atlanta,” MJ says, reading over my notes.
“You think your friend is involved with whatever this dude is into?”
“She doesn’t have a clue, which is probably safer for her right now.”
“Just how rich is she?”
“I’ll tell you after you make that call.”
“Well, she better be cash reward rich,” MJ says. She looks reluctant but leaves me in the living room to go make the call from her bedroom. I guess after learning my mother is a cop, she still doesn’t trust me. A couple of minutes later, she returns.
“Where’s Big Mama?” I ask.
“Still at work. She’ll be home soon, though, so you should probably make it a quick visit. She don’t like you much.”
“Yeah, that seems to be a theme, but at least we’re even on that front. You aren’t my mother’s favorite person, either.”
“I saved your butt and your mother still got beef with me?” she says, but doesn’t wait for my answer. “ ’S a’ight. I got issues with her, too.”
We’re quiet for a minute, but I don’t want MJ to start thinking about how much she hates cops and how she thinks I betrayed her because I’m pretty sure I’m going to need her help beyond that one phone call, so I tell her everything I know and suspect about Cole. Just as I finish my debriefing, her phone rings and she leaves me alone in the living room again.
“That was quick,” I say when she returns, hopeful that such a fast callback meant no one had ever heard of him.
“It was quick because they didn’t need to look deep to find someone who knows about this guy Cole, ’cept they call him Coleman. That’s his last name.”
“So much for that story about last names denoting ownership,” I say, recalling the lame excuse he gave during the double date.
“What?”
“Nothing. What else did you find out?”
“Your guess was right. He’s part of a crime family down there.”
“Like the Mafia?”
“Not the Mafia, but something like it. A small-time version of it but still badass. My contact is still checking for more information, but they do know dude came out of nowhere and all Donnie Brasco-style got in good with the head of the Family.”
“This is bad.”
“Real bad. What made you connect some preppie gold digger to a crime family, anyway? Something you not telling me?”
“It’s just the way he carried himself, and I’ve watched too many mob movies, I guess.”
“So have I, but I can’t name one with a mobster who looks like he shops at Eddie Bauer, which is how you describe him.”
I completely trust MJ. She hasn’t busted Lana on being a cop yet when, given how mad she was with me and how she hates the police, she could have told everyone on the block by now. I want her to know that I trust her, because I’m going to need her help, but I don’t tell her anything about Lana’s case being connected to a crime family or about the photo of Cole. I figure MJ didn’t need to know that, and it’s probably safer it she didn’t. Except maybe not. I just remembered the secret she’s keeping about Eddie, mystery bodega man. I’ll have to get that information out of her soon, but since her trust in me is fragile to nonexistent, I’ll hold off on that for now.
“I’d better go call my mother. This thing is way past what I can do to help Bethanie.”
“Much as I hate to call the cops for any reason, I think you’re right. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else,” MJ says, walking me to the door. “Hey, what about my bio homework?”
“Let me tell my mother what you found out and then I’ll come back.”
“Maybe by then you’ll be willing to tell me the rest of the story.”
I head back to my house thinking that if I can believe all those mob movies, that photo means Cole must be a driver for someone high up in the Family. But why in the world would he be in Denver if the Family is based in Atlanta, and what would he want from Bethanie? Yeah, he wants her money, but how did he know she had any, and what made him come halfway across the country to find out that she did? I couldn’t find a thing during my Internet searches about the Larsens winning the Powerball. I have a lot more questions than answers, but one thing I know for sure. Bethanie isn’t just dating Cole. She’s disappeared with him.
Chapter 20
Before I can step off MJ’s porch, my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number so I’m surprised when I hear Bethanie’s voice.
“Don’t be mad at me, Chanti.”
“I probably should be ticked when you keep starting our conversations like that,” I say, but I’m soooo not mad at her. I’m just relieved to be hearing from her at all.
“Sorry I ditched you at school today, but I had a great reason to.”
“I’m coming over there now so you can tell me all about it.”
“Don’t. I’m not at home. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Are you at his—Cole’s place? I don’t recognize the number you called from,” I say, wondering if she’ll lie. Wherever she is sounds like one huge party, same as when I spoke to her yesterday morning. Did she ditch me to go to the circus?
“Oh, that. I’m using one of those prepaid phones. Cole suggested we get rid of my phone once I told him you like to play Nancy Drew and if anyone came looking for us, you’d be the one who could tell them how to find us.”
Not a single part of her last sentence made any sense. Bethanie normally acts like her phone has national security secrets imbedded in it, but Cole tells her to get rid of it and she just does it. Who would come looking for them and why don’t they want to be found? I try to think up the best way to ask both those questions so I still sound like her supportive friend instead of her extremely freaked out friend who really wants to say WTF about five thousand times and demand she get her butt home now.
“Okay, Bethanie. Who would be trying to track you down?”
“My parents when I don’t walk through the front door in about thirty minutes like I always do. They’ll come looking for you and as good as you are at lying, you can’t fool them forever.”
“You’re saying all of this like you’re telling me about some boring thing that happened in the cafeteria at school. But what it sounds like you’re saying is you’ve run off with Cole and you don’t want anyone to find you. I can barely hear what you’re saying. Are you still at that amusement park you were at yesterday?”
“The way you say it makes it sound kind of crazy, but it really isn’t.”
“No, it really is,” I say, realizing I’m not faking the supportive friend thing very well. “A guy who tells you to ditch your phone so you can’t be tracked is totally crazy, not ‘kind of’ crazy. I don’t care how much he wants to be with you in spite of your parents’ disapproval, that is just geeked up.”
“I don’t need all this negativity when I’m so happy. I’m going to hang up if—”
“No wait. It’s just a lot to take in, Bethanie. You can see how I might be a little upset, right?”
“Only because you’re you and you worry about everything. I’m fine. I’m better than fine, and soon I’ll be home and I can tell you why and nothing my parents try to do will matter then.”
“What are you talking about, Bethanie? You keep hinting at something. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re the detective. You tell me,” she says like this is some kind of joke.
“Look, I want to tell you something about Cole. Is he with you now?”
“Of course he’s with me, and anything you say about him I’m just going to tell him anyway, so just s
ay it.”
“It’s not like that. I just want to make sure you can hear me. I don’t know how you can hear anything with all that noise. Can you go somewhere a little quieter so—”
Then I hear a man’s voice in the background—Cole’s voice—telling her to hang up, and she does, without even saying good-bye.
Now I’m really scared for Bethanie, even if Cole did seem like a nice guy except for the gold-digging thing, and even if Bethanie says he’s always a gentleman. All that can change with the quickness, especially when dealing with a con artist. Bethanie thinks she’s playing out some kind of secret mission or modern-day Romeo and Juliet and has no idea she’s creeping with the enemy.
I’m surprised to find Lana on the phone when I get inside since her car wasn’t out front. She looks at me and then at her watch, but doesn’t stop her conversation to ask me why I’m home from school so early. That means she’s talking to someone about the case. I pretend to go to my room, but hide in the hall to eavesdrop. Most of the conversation is lame and not at all helpful, until she says, “We had the statewide BOLO out on him, so why didn’t Black Hawk police apprehend him when they had a visual?”
I don’t get to hear the reason why the missing witness wasn’t apprehended, but then Lana says, “Well, at least we know he’s probably still in Colorado, though I don’t get how he’s able to stay hidden so well and for so long when he’s got a wife and kid in tow.”
That’s when it hits me. Although MJ has pretty much confirmed it was Cole in that photo and he’s tied to Lana’s case, I don’t think he was up in Black Hawk this weekend and he definitely isn’t hanging out with a wife and kid. Well, not his kid, anyway. I always thought Bethanie wasn’t her real name. It just didn’t fit her, especially after I met her mother. No way would her mom name a child of hers Bethanie. Aloe Vera or Taffy maybe, but not Bethanie. Now I realize Larsen isn’t their last name, either. That was why I couldn’t find anything about them when I was in Atlanta.
Creeping with the Enemy Page 14
