I felt like I was being scolded, and I probably was. Deserved it. I really did detest the way he bullied his way in here and how he seemed to want to use his size and bulk to intimidate. All that should have meant nothing to me; not when I had Johanna with me. She was half the size of most men and could beat any number of them senseless if she felt the need.
“Ok, you’re probably right. But this is one of my quirks. This is my space, my safe space,” I told Susan, because for years it had been, up until my father died.
“I wondered why you were reacting so strongly,” Susan said and then stepped out the door that Jo was still holding open.
As I was walking out, I heard Skye clear her throat. I turned to look at her. She gave me a nervous look before asking, “Can I still work in here?”
“Of course,” I told her.
“Oh, I just thought… about what you said about it being your space…”
I put my hand on her shoulder as lightly as I could and looked her in the eye. “We can share it. It used to be just my space, but I need help. You’ve been wonderful in everything you’ve done with me so far. Your salary of course is doubled as promised.”
The wind was crushed out of me as the tiny form launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around me in a whole-body hug. I looked at Jo in a panic, but she was holding her hand over her mouth, trying to hold the laugh back. It wasn’t working.
“Oh, sorry,” Skye said, breaking off and stepping back.
“Ok, this woman here,” I said, pointing to Sasha on her display. “Send her pictures to Susan and the FBI. We need facial recognition done to see if she’s in any of the databases. If they are going too slow, get the .dat file off my computer in the hidden directory and backdoor your way in,” I whispered.
“Hack the FBI?” Skye squeaked.
“What would Anonymous think if you pulled it off?” I asked her truthfully.
“I don’t know… but the FBI?” she repeated.
“Only if they are too slow. Send me an alert as soon as you know anything and go through all the data on the hard drive. Any documents…anything you can find relevant to the case,” I told her.
It would have been simpler to go to the personal directory and see who the computer was registered to… but that was an optional field, and somebody who set up a degausser as a protection device wouldn’t be too sloppy with his tech. Whoever it was probably used the laptop for maps and checking out surveillance pictures. It would have little to no footprint involving the internet. Regardless, I set Tech Support, er… Skye on it and headed out. I had more to do.
I hit the lights on my way out of IT and stepped into the sunlit corridor where Johanna was still waiting for me.
“I didn’t want to let them in,” Jo told me softly.
“You did the right thing,” I told her.
“I did?” she asked.
“Yeah. If you had initiated anything to stop them, Ralston would have been all over you. This time, even though you would have been the muscle, it’s me they’ll remember.”
“Susan seemed pissed,” Jo said.
“Yeah, I assume it’s because Pete’s been her partner for a long time. Even though he’s a disgusting slob, they’ve been together forever. I’ve often wondered of Susan had slept with him, because he seems totally devoted to her, although I doubt their compatibility and—”
“Jarek,” Jo interrupted.
“Sorry, where did they go?” I asked her as we walked into the empty reception area where the secretary was busy talking on her headset.
“Susan and I promised Sorensen and Ralston that we’d copy them in on everything and then return the evidence. It was the only way to shut up Sorensen,” she told me, stopping at the door.
“Do you have your keys?” I asked her.
“What do you want to ride in today?” she asked me.
“Surprise me. We’re going to wander around inconspicuously and trace the path the kidnapper took, see if we can find any more cameras along the way we can get a feed to. We could have done this the other day, but I was expecting the police to have done it already—”
“And your dalliance with that woman slowed things down,” she snarked. “By the way, what do you think she was doing tailing Caroline Taylor?” Jo asked, interrupting my train of thought.
“I don’t believe in—”
“Coincidences,” we chorused together, then laughed uneasily.
Johanna pushed out the door to get the car and I headed over to the reception desk. Annette was talking and typing away. She’d been with my father’s company as long as I could remember. You’d think I’d have fond memories of her, knowing her almost my whole life.
“Boy Wonder is heading out to save the damsel in distress again,” she said without looking up at me.
“Annette,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be out with Jo working on the Taylor case. If anything big comes in, give me a shout, otherwise give it to whomever’s on the roster for the day. We may have to contract a couple cases out or push timelines because—”
“The Taylor case is important. You’ve bedded half the women in Detroit… yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m busy here. Anything else?”
She always got straight to the point. I never had to doubt where I stood in her eyes. To Annette, I wasn’t quite the turd you scraped off your shoe, but I was something not too far up the food chain from that. She didn’t like me and didn’t like how she’d never been allowed to do more than answer phones and make appointments. My father said if she ever had a personality transplant, he might consider her for some other job here. As it was, she was way past retirement age, and I’d long ago given up the pretense of trying to be polite to her. She was probably one of the people in my life I felt the most comfortable around because of her raw honesty.
“Yes, work on your manners or at least polish your resume,” I quipped.
“I do it every day,” she told me, holding her hand over the headset.
“Put it up on Monster.com. I can see the title now: Bitter, Wicked Witch of the West impersonator. Phones answered, bosses insulted,” I told her, using one of my father’s lines.
“I do believe you just made a joke,” she said, her tone going soft and a smile tugging at her lips. “No, not you, shut up,” she said into the mouthpiece before covering it up and looking up at me.
A horn honked and I gave Annette a half wave and headed out.
7
Jo and I were back in the Suburban again, cruising the route the kidnapper had taken. I’d texted Susan several times to apologize, but she wasn’t responding. Either she was busy, or even more pissed at me than I imagined. Jo and I ducked under the police tape to the scene of the abduction. Seeing a black SUV with heavily tinted windows and two people poking through a small taped-off section, curious people drifted over to see what we were doing.
The police hadn’t taken the tape down for whatever reason, but it was obvious that the area had been thoroughly searched. The section of the street was abnormally clean; the crime scene technicians had undoubtedly bagged anything and everything in hopes of finding a clue.
“There’s nothing here,” Jo said after a moment.
I looked at the fading rubber marks where the van had peeled away, probably scared off by the shout of the person who witnessed it. I had the file in the SUV, but the name wasn’t important to me at this point. They probably had been interviewed by the cops and FBI a dozen times already, and anything relevant would be in there.
“Agreed, let’s go,” I told her, climbing back into the vehicle.
“Which way?” Jo asked, turning in the seat to look back at me.
I didn’t like riding in the front seat; it was a personal fear of mine. My mother was in the passenger side of the car when a drunk driver hit us when I was a kid, and Johanna and Susan were there for me when the grief finally hit almost a month later. She understood and didn’t think I was treating her like a servant. I hoped.
“Let’s go over the r
oute again. There’s a ton of cameras in and around these buildings. I’m sure the police—”
My phone buzzed. I looked at the email and saw the text reminder from Skye to use my tablet. I got that out and opened up the email when Jo interrupted.
“Just drive around in circles?” she asked. “Follow the route and wait for inspiration?”
“No…” I said. “Hold on a second and let me read this.”
Johanna put the Suburban in park and got out. Worried I’d done something wrong, I was surprised when she opened the door to the seat beside me and told me to scoot over.
“What is it?” she said, leaning over to read over my shoulder.
Her breath was hot on my neck, and suddenly, the memory of wild monkey sex was about the only thing I could focus on. I scooted away some and tried to hold the tablet in a way that didn’t make her get so close again.
“Facial recognition results,” I told her.
“Damn, that was fast. Is she in the system? Felonies, robberies?” Jo asked.
“Cop. Former cop,” I said and let her read the profile.
Sasha Black was a mid-thirties woman who I knew intimately in one aspect, but the rest was news to me. She was a former Flint detective who liaised with the FBI on several gang-related cases. Apparently she was on the task force that got RICO charges on the gang at Twelfth and Lapper Road. I knew people thought the big D was bad, but Detroit was not Flint. Flint was crazy bad.
Sasha was from the area. After cracking the case, she went into hiding for a year and resigned from law enforcement. From there, the dossier was speculation on what Skye could find. Once she’d had a name and phone number from the FBI’s database, she’d used it to zero in on social media and pull things out. What she’d found indicated that either Sasha was now doing freelance work, or was still working with law enforcement in a hushed manner.
That got my head spinning, and I stared off into space, considering the possibilities. Why would a cop, wait, former cop, be following and taking pictures of Miss Taylor? Was she as pristine as her file led me to believe, or had she been hired to help orchestrate the kidnapping? I was missing a piece here, and could only hope that the forensics team going over the van had more of a clue. Most kidnappings of adults usually took at least two people, if not more, unless they were going to drug or knock out the victim first.
With little to go on, I kept pondering the involvement and was startled when Jo dropped the tablet in my lap, opened the door, and climbed back into the front seat.
“See something?” I asked her.
“Her last known address,” Jo said, before putting the SUV in gear and kicking up loose gravel off the pavement.
A smart U-turn in the middle of the road had us heading back towards the expressway.
“Auburn Hills it is,” I told her, already figuring that Susan and a team of storm troopers would already be there.
I texted Susan for the fourth or fifth time, telling her where we were going and why. I didn’t know if she had taken the time to read the packet of info yet.
* * *
I was beginning to feel car sick as Jo weaved in and out of traffic, but we made it to Sasha’s house in record time. I stood like a stone behind Jo as she rang the bell. For the entire trip I’d been plagued with thoughts on how I’d met her, how I’d probably been used as a quick fling so she could see where we were at in the case. It was a honey trap; one I’d walked right into. Of course I hadn’t talked about the case, nor did Sasha bring it up while we were exerting ourselves.
But how would we ask her about that? I’d let Jo do that part, because I felt like I was getting in over my head and zoning out more and more as the case became more stressful for me.
“Nobody’s here,” Johanna said, looking into the window beside the door.
“Ok, let’s head back. Maybe Susan and the beat cops have some more video for us to go through?”
“Sounds good. Hey, what are you doing?” Johanna asked as I opened the mailbox and pulled out a handful of mail.
I went through the mail, sorting the junk from the bills. Sasha Black did in fact live here. I shoved them all back in the mailbox and turned to Jo.
“Making sure we have the right house, let’s call Susan—”
“You call Susan, patch things up,” Jo told me.
“I’m trying.”
“Let’s go,” Jo said, opening the door for me.
I know I was moving slowly; I was getting overwhelmed in details. I let Jo help me in and I sat there long enough to remember to buckle the belt just before she took off. This happened to me quite a bit. My brain was working in overdrive, but I zoned out on life. Sometimes I would even fall asleep when this happened. Usually it was too much stimulation, too much stress, or a combination of everything. The great thing about Jo was that she knew and understood.
So we knew were Sasha Black lived, but she wasn’t there. I couldn’t coordinate information two ways if Susan wasn’t communicating. I had to get ahold of her, but I was missing something. The bar, the seductress Sasha, the kidnapper…My head went round and round. I don’t know how long I zoned, but I felt it when Jo put the car in park and let out a small gasp.
“Jarek,” she said, pulling out a digital camera with a zoom lens that came standard in all of GIS’s cars and snapping pictures.
I focused on the outside. I’d been away in my head for a time, and we were now parked back at the bar where we first got the info on the van. I looked to see what she was taking pictures of and blanched. Sasha was accepting an envelope from a man who tried to give her a kiss. She dodged to the side a bit and took it on the cheek before patting him on the back and walking away.
“Get the plate numbers,” I said, realizing we’d just found her with a person of interest.
Was it the payoff? Was the deal off? What was going on? I quickly redialed Susan.
“This better be good. We’re going over the new ransom call with the FBI,” Susan barked.
“We have a visual on Sasha and a man who just handed her an envelope,” I said.
Susan let out a gasp.
“There’s only one car here, and they are going separate ways—”
“What’s the license plate number?” Susan almost shouted.
“The man is getting into a Dodge Durango,” I told her and then repeated the numbers and letters as Jo read them out. “Sasha is heading into the bar.”
“Dammit,” Jo said. The curse was simultaneous with Susan’s over the phone.
“Susan, get somebody to the bar. I’m going to try to delay Sasha. Jo is going to follow the man. If he’s paying off Sasha, he’s probably one of the ones who orchestrated the kidnapping.”
“Ok,” Susan told me. “I’m rolling in a few. We’re coming in silent, no sirens.”
“Ok, I’ll see you here,” I said and hung up.
“Jarek, I know you think you can do this, but what are you going to do alone inside there?”
“He’s getting away,” I said, pointing as the Durango turned left out of the bar parking lot.
I got out of the SUV and made sure I had my tablet. “Jo, just go. He might lead us to the girl,” I told her through her open window.
“Jarek, you—”
“Go, hurry.” I turned and walked to the bar.
* * *
I didn’t wait around to watch Jo take off, but she’d call me if she lost him or was returning. My focus now was to get eyes on Sasha. The moment I stepped inside the bar, it almost seemed as if the music stopped and everybody stared at me. Fear and anxiety tore through me, and I stood rooted to the spot until a waitress came and asked me sarcastically if I wanted a table.
“I’m looking for someone,” I told her, my voice going dry.
Jo was right. Without her and Susan, this place was hitting me hard. I managed last time because I focused on them and nothing else. When I talked to the bartender, my focus was on him and nobody else. Now everybody’s focus was on me. I could feel the weight of their
stares.
“Who you looking for, sugar?” she asked, her voice hoarse from too many packs of Marlboros.
“Tall blonde, just came in here,” I told her. “Think her name’s Sasha,” I said at last.
“Ah, yeah, she headed towards the bathroom.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said, hurrying in that direction.
The bathrooms were sectioned off from the rest of the bar by tall batwing doors, matching what had to be the back room’s ‘employees only’ doors, which probably led to a small kitchen. I shuddered to think how they would look inside. I walked down the short hallway, wondering if I should wait for Sasha there, when I noticed the exit sign. I’d seen something like that in a movie, and my father had warned me about it, so I pushed through the exit, hoping I didn’t trip an alarm.
To my relief, no alarm sounded. I immediately noticed a swirl of blonde hair as the door slammed on a silver Camaro. I pulled my phone out and double tapped the home key, bringing up my camera. I grabbed two quick pictures of the license plate, frowning when I saw the rental sticker in the back window. That was smart, but I could at least give a make and model. I dialed Susan’s number.
“You ok?” Susan asked, without saying hello.
“Yeah, she just left out the back of the building in a silver Camaro. License number…” I rattled it off from memory and she repeated it. I could hear Pete Ralston’s voice in the background as he radioed it in.
“What way did she leave?” Susan asked.
“She headed south from the back alley.”
“I’m not far,” Susan said and hung up.
“What are you doing?” a man asked, coming out of the exit.
I looked around, trying to figure out who he was talking to, when I realized it was me.
“You the creeper that the lady was warning us about?”
The man was in his early forties. His hair was cut short, and his scarred knuckles were being very efficiently cracked as he balled his hands into fists and relaxed them. From ten feet away, I could see how he was swaying on his feet and marveled at how some people could get so drunk so early in the day. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet, but here he was, half passed out.
Kidnapped: A Jarek Grayson Private Detective Novel (Grayson Investigative Services Book 1) Page 7
