by Tom Fowler
“Go!” O’Hearn pointed sharply toward the door. “We’re done hiding this.”
“You’re going down, too,” Jackson said, leaning over his commander’s desk as best he could.
“If it happens, it happens,” O’Hearn said. “We were all following orders. Now get out of here.”
Jackson grumbled some more, but he and Bradley left with Mitchell and Fields. When they were gone and the door closed behind us again, I said, “Whose orders were you following?” Gonzalez shot me a sidelong grin.
“I’m an employee of John Hanson College,” O’Hearn said. “Who do you think bosses me around?”
“The president and the board of regents.” He nodded.
“You’re saying they all knew about what happened?” Gonzalez asked.
“Yes.”
“University management knew about the rape of a student by several athletes and directed its cover-up?”
“Yes.”
Gonzalez released a deep sigh. He turned to me. “You have any idea it was this big?”
I shook my head. “It makes sense, though. Institutions rot from the top down.” I posed a question to O’Hearn. “Have you been in contact with Eddie Ferrugia recently?”
“No,” he said.
“You don’t know where he might be holding a kidnapped young girl?”
He blanched. “Jesus Christ.” He crossed himself to atone for his blasphemy. “I had no idea. I wouldn’t have gone along with kidnapping a kid.”
“But you’ll gladly participate in covering up a rape.”
O’Hearn started to answer, then stopped. “Probably best you don’t say a lot more,” Gonzalez told him.
“I’m going to need to talk to Eddie,” I said.
“Good thing I know someone who can take you right to him,” Gonzalez said.
Chapter 24
Gonzalez and I took his car to the county lockup. It was an unmarked Dodge Charger with the usual police bells and whistles--literally in some cases--inside. The crackling of the radio frequently interrupted the satisfying sound of the V8. "How can you make heads or tails out of what people are saying?" I asked when someone finished a sentence sounding like gibberish to me.
"You get used to it."
"I don't see how. It all sounds like the adults talking in the Charlie Brown cartoons."
Gonzalez grinned. "Figured you'd be too young for those."
"They're classics. When I was a kid, the first song I learned on the piano was ‘Linus and Lucy.’”
“The song Schroeder always plays. Right?”
"Yep."
"Why am I not surprised you played piano when you were young?" Gonzalez said.
"My parents basically made me." I shrugged. "I didn't mind it. Haven't played in years, though."
We fell into silence. Our destination was in Towson, not far from his station house. We entered through a side door, took a set of stairs down, and ended in the area reserved for holding cells. Each could house multiple miscreants at a time, though at the moment, only about half were occupied. Two large desks pushed side-by-side dominated most of the floor space in the front of the room. Eddie Ferrugia enjoyed one to himself toward the back. Gonzalez and I both showed our IDs, and then we adjourned to a small interview room.
Eddie, escorted by one of the officers manning the desk, joined us a couple minutes later. He wore handcuffs, which no one offered to undo as he sat across from us. For a man who normally looked in control and upbeat, Eddie now looked glum and resigned to his fate. Dark circles under his eyes highlighted his lack of sleep. He retained enough clarity to glower at me, however. "I can't believe you put me here."
"I offered to drop you off in Little Italy instead."
“Screw you. You know what they would've done to me."
"Then, this seems like a much better alternative," I said. "You might try being grateful."
"You two measure your dicks later," Gonzalez said. "We're here for a reason. Where's the girl?"
"I told you where she was." Eddie leaned back as much as the metal chair would allow him and turned away from us toward the door.
"We've been over this, Eddie. She ain't there."
"Then, I don't know where she is."
"Not good enough," I said.
"Why should I help you?" he said, giving me the side-eye. "You put me in jail."
I could've pointed out how behind bars was the correct destination for a criminal, and I could've reiterated how much worse the alternative would have been. Neither of those would compel Eddie to help right now, however. He was the only one who might know where Iris went. I couldn't even begin to speculate. "You left Iris with someone," I said, trying to purge my voice of hostility. "She's a baby, and she'd need someone to take care of her."
He nodded. "I'm not trying to hurt a kid. It was all to motivate Calvin."
"It worked. If we don't know where Iris is, though, this can't keep working. How do we know whoever has the child will give her back?"
"Have you been listening? I don't know where she is."
"Who’d you leave her with?" I said.
He didn't answer my question. "I knew there was money in this. I've been an entrepreneur. A couple of my guys, though . . . they see a little cash, and it totally changes them. They're trying to make all the money all the time."
"You're saying they could've gone overboard?" Gonzalez asked.
"I left Iris with one of my guys, Arash. He lives with his sister, and she knows how to look after a kid."
"He one of the zealous ones you mentioned?" Eddie's head bobbed. "What's Arash’s last name?"
“Shirazi.”
My mouth fell open. Gonzalez must have seen me gaping because he turned to me and said, "What? You know him?"
“’I’m pretty sure I met him," I said after the shock wore off. "Not too far from here, actually. A couple of guys were going to beat his ass in a bar fight, and I saved him." I couldn’t be sure Eddie and I referred to the same guy, but how many men named Arash could work in sports analytics in this area?
"You didn't know he was involved in this mess?"
"No. This was before I started working it. He told me he did predictive modeling on basketball and football. I never associated it with this."
"Where's this Arash live?" Gonzalez said, turning back to face Eddie.
"I don't know. In Baltimore somewhere, I think."
"Don't you send him a paycheck?"
"I hired a payroll company. Ask them."
"What about his job application?" Gonzalez said, his tone getting more clipped with each new question.
Eddie had the nerve to laugh. "Who fills out job applications? I'm not running a Burger King. Either you get recommended for jobs like this, or people already know you."
"We'll find out where he lives," I said before Gonzalez could launch into a tirade. We both stood. Gonzalez walked to the door. I stayed at the table, leaned over it, and got in Eddie's face. The proximity made him scurry back in the chair. "You'd better hope nothing happens to Iris, you asshole."
"I'm ready to return to my cell," Eddie said, looking past me to Gonzalez for help.
"Get used to being in one," I said as I left.
Arash’s picture stared back at me from his Facebook profile.
In it, he showed a smile projecting confidence. It was a far cry from when I met him outside a bar in Towson with two drunks about to beat his ass over a sports argument. This was definitely the same guy, however. Another picture highlighted his white Persian soccer jacket.
"He doesn't seem like your type," Gloria said from behind me.
I heard one of her footsteps, so her sudden appearance didn't startle me. Her comment made me grin in spite of my current mood. "Is he yours?"
She walked into my home office, sat on my lap, and peered at the screen. "I'll pass." She leaned against me, and I slipped an arm around her waist. "I usually go for smart guys who are good with computers, really driven about what they do, and who can beat up three foot
ball players at a time."
"Pretty specific type," I said.
"I know." A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "What about you?"
"I favor beautiful women who play tennis and who have much bigger hearts than they give themselves credit for."
"Pretty specific type," she said.
"I know. It's like we should start dating or something."
She cupped my face with her left hand and pulled me into a long kiss. "Or something," she whispered, her breath hot on my face.
"Later," I said. "I'm still trying to find Iris."
One of the many things I loved about Gloria was her ability to turn off vixen mode when confronted with a serious situation. She sat up again. "Do you know where she is?"
"I'm working on it."
She inclined her head toward my monitor. "Does he have her?"
"As far as I know," I said. "According to Eddie, this guy is zealous enough about collecting cash to freelance in an already messed-up situation."
"I hope you find her." Gloria gave me a more sedate kiss this time, stood, and walked toward the door. I half-turned to watch her leave.
Then I got back to work.
Arash lived in the Reservoir Hill section of Baltimore, south of the Maryland Zoo and Druid Hill Park. As the crow flies, it wasn't too far from where Calvin's cousin Ben got shot keeping watch over Iris and Tamika. Greenspring Avenue, cutting through the western side of the foliage, meant it wouldn't be too far as the car drives, either. I pondered these things as the Caprice kissed the curb on Newington Avenue.
The homes here were brick-front rowhouses but with a twist. Each featured a rounded protrusion past their main doors and extending to the top of the house. It lent them the appearance of small towers. Overall, I liked the look. A rounded interior wall with built-in bookshelves would be perfect on the top floor.
Enough cars lined the street to make me park a couple units down from Arash. Rollins, currently on his way, would discover even fewer spots for his obnoxious pickup. Speaking of which, I heard its distinctive growl as it approached from the top of the street. For someone who could be so stealthy, Rollins chose a vehicle which was the exact opposite. Of course, my Caprice with its decade-old Corvette engine was not the most quiet of vehicles, either.
Rollins padded from his truck and sat in my passenger seat. "He home?" Never a greeting—always right down to business.
"There's a light on upstairs," I said.
"Doesn't mean he's home."
"I know. I just figured it would be bad form to break in and look around before we break in and look around."
Rollins grinned. "Work smart, not hard. Let's go." We walked to the end of the street, made a quick right, and picked up the alley running behind the houses. More cars were parked here, some on pads and others far enough out to make driving down here treacherous. We kept low and made our way to the back of the house. Hopping the three-foot chain-link fence was simple. From there, a short walkway took us to the rear entrance.
"I'll go in first," Rollins said as I crouched to work on the lock.
"Right," I said. "I don't want to shoot anyone unless we have to . . . especially because we're not supposed to be in there."
The tumblers lined up, the lock clicked open, and I slid back a step. Rollins moved past me, nudged the door open, and walked inside the dark house.
I drew my pistol and went in behind him.
Chapter 25
This being a back door in Baltimore, we entered into the kitchen. Fading sunlight streamed through the windows on either side of the sink to show a neat room. The counters were clean and free of clutter. No dishes piled up anywhere. I’ve walked into many houses with kitchens better classified as disaster zones. A well-maintained one took me by surprise.
Rollins cocked an eyebrow at me. “Want to stop to make a sandwich?” he whispered.
“We could eat off these counters.”
“Let’s save it for later.” He crept into the next room. The illumination behind us faded. Linoleum yielded to wood flooring. We entered a small dining room large enough for a narrow table, four chairs, and nothing more. A hallway exactly the length to accommodate a door on each side led onward. Rollins opened the one on the right. “Powder room.”
“This one’s probably the basement, then,” I said, keeping my voice low. I opened the door. A slim wooden staircase went down into darkness. “I’m going to check it out.” Rollins nodded and took position in the short corridor. I found a switch on the wall and flicked it on. A light flickered to life somewhere below. It afforded me a great view of the rickety steps as I descended them. I didn’t expect to find Iris or anyone else down here, but we needed to investigate.
Many basements in Baltimore are unfinished, and this one was among them. Like in mine, exposed beams compromised the headroom. I would have needed to duck a little without them regardless. Storage shelves, some plastic and others metal, lined the walls. A few strained under the weight of the boxes stacked on them. There was nothing else down here. I’d figured the basement would be a dud, and it was. I padded back up the stairs and gave Rollins a thumbs down as I reached the top.
We moved on to the living room. Like most houses I’d been in, this one featured a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. A Playstation 4 and an impressive collection of games occupied a horizontal bookshelf. The rounded front of the house manifested itself in a large window affording an excellent view of the street. Rollins flipped through a stack of papers on an end table, but the single shake of his head told me he found nothing.
As quietly as we could, we ascended the stairs. They were also wooden and creaky in a couple spots. Despite our best efforts, anyone up here would have advance warning we were coming. The landing opened into a bathroom at the back of the house and a large bedroom at the front. Considering its size, this was likely the master suite. Rollins and I searched both areas and found no people or items of interest save a laptop on the bed. Computers were always of interest to someone like me.
The third floor held another bathroom and two more bedrooms. All were empty. We trudged up the final set of steps. At some point, this was probably a converted attic. The ceiling was lower here to the point I could barely stand and move around. A couple full bookshelves and an empty desk occupied the floor space. “Somebody’s office,” Rollins said. “This guy lives with his sister?”
“Yeah. Room is probably his. His job would allow him to work from home.”
We went over everything but didn’t turn up a single useful thing. Not even a clue where Arash had gone. I followed Rollins down to the third level. We walked into the bedroom facing the street, the larger of the two. He opened the closet door. It was full of women’s clothes. Rollins looked behind the garments. “Don’t see a suitcase,” he said. “Doesn’t mean they went anywhere, but there’s enough room in there for one.”
I checked the closet in the other bedroom. Apart from hangers and a bin of cleaning supplies, it was empty. This must have been the guest room. We went to Arash’s quarters and conducted the same search. No luggage. “You didn’t see any in the basement?” Rollins asked.
“No. The lighting wasn’t great, but I didn’t notice any. It was kind of musty down there, too. Not the best place for your Samsonite.”
“What do you want to do?”
I looked at the laptop on Arash’s bed. “Let’s grab the computer. If he did something to prepare for wherever he went, I’ll find it.”
We snagged the Lenovo and left.
I maintained enough equipment in my home office to do a fair bit of work. Rollins powered on the laptop. It displayed a standard Windows 10 login screen. Lacking Arash’s credentials, I turned it off and closed the lid. Following my instructions, Rollins used a small screwdriver to open the case. He extracted the hard drive and handed it to me. I’d connected a reader to my PC and plugged Arash’s drive into it.
“What are you looking for?” Rollins said as he leaned back in a guest chair.
“Anything, really. I’m going to start with recent documents and Internet browsing history, though. Those are most likely to tell us what he’s up to.”
“If he made whatever arrangements on this laptop.”
“Sure,” I said. “We’re hoping for the best here. If he did it all on his phone, I guess we’re screwed.”
My mobile buzzed in my pocket. Calvin texted. What’s going on? You have Iris back yet? I rolled my eyes. “What is it?” Rollins asked.
“Calvin wants an update.” I put the phone down and setup the purloined drive in Device Manager. A moment later, I browsed its contents, opening an old spreadsheet to test for encryption. The file opened in human-readable format. “No crypto. We caught a break there.”
“Is yours encrypted?”
“Have we met?”
Rollins smiled and went back to watching me work. My cell vibrated again. I looked at Calvin’s latest message. Come on, tell me. What’s going on?
I fired off a reply. I’m working it. Have a line on the guy she’s with. Leave me alone so I can get to it.
Radio silence ensued. I ran a search for anything created or modified in the last week with popular document file extensions. Over a dozen results popped up. I didn’t want to eliminate any without reading them, so I opened each one, even the boring spreadsheets talking about the latest trends in basketball analytics. I wasn’t sure I’d learned anything after skimming it. Perhaps a career in sports data was not in my future. I would survive.
I closed the last file and sighed. Combing through browsing histories is never a fun task. On rare occasions, it could be interesting, but the reality was regular people searched for regular things. Arash was likely to disappear after the abduction of Iris, but he could have made the arrangements first. I went over everything from the last four days.
Arash visited a lot of websites related to his job. It was too bad he decided to usurp Eddie because he was a diligent worker. Maybe he felt himself to be the real power behind the throne, and when Eddie enjoyed a stay as the guest of the Baltimore County Police, Arash pounced. “Nature abhors a vacuum,” Eddie told me when we met in the Final Score tavern. I wondered how he’d feel about his own sentiment being used against him.
