Abducted (8 page)

THE ALARM JOLTED
Carly back to the real world at 6 a.m. She checked her BlackBerry, and there were no messages or texts waiting. A quick call to dispatch and she learned that nothing had changed: A.J. was still missing.

Groaning, she got out of bed and dressed quickly in a bathing suit. A swim would help clear her mind for work. In order to beat the summer beach traffic, she needed to hit the sand early. And a swim would not only fit into her training schedule; it would energize her mind. The Maui Channel Swim, at 9.5 miles, would be the longest swim she’d ever competed in. She had managed to swim to safety after jumping from a speeding yacht to avoid being shot somewhere in the middle of the channel between Catalina and the Las Playas harbor, but she estimated that was only two or three miles. There was no way to be certain how far she had traveled that night.

With Nick’s encouragement and his promise to be in a support boat while she swam ringing in her ears, she’d mailed off an entry. It was meant to be a relay race, but there were twenty slots available to those who wanted to swim solo. She’d made it just in time to be number twenty. Her training had been going great until Nick’s therapy went south. Every time she was in the water, she swam with the intention of competing in the race, but now pain pierced her as she realized this was something else Nick was backing out of. Now that he wanted a break, would she do the swim without him?

I still want to,
she thought,
but will it be the same without Nick there? Will anything be the same without Nick there?

“Enough,” she muttered.
Life goes on.
Covering herself with a big T-shirt, she gathered Maddie, and together they jogged to the beach. Maddie would wait patiently on a towel while Carly completed her swim.

Carly’s mood improved immensely as she reached the sand. She loved the water and often found that the ocean soothed whatever ailed her. Today it was worry about A.J. and stinging memories of Nick’s wanting a break that caused her pain, but she vowed to think of the race and only the race once she hit the water.

She stripped off the T-shirt and ran into the waves, trying to leave the emotional pain on the sand.
I got over him once. If I have to, I’ll get over him again.

There were only a few surfers in the water this time of the morning, and they were on the other side of the pier. Carly had the ocean to herself. She pounded out a three-mile swim that took her out to a buoy and back. The ache over Nick was still there when she finished, but now she knew she could deal with it.
I have too much to do, too much to concentrate on to be distracted. I’ll hope Nick changes his mind, but I can’t change it for him.

Carly left the waves and walked up the beach to where Maddie’s tail thumped rhythmically on the sand. Her thoughts shifted to her roommate, and she decided she was ready to face her now and hopefully find out what was really bothering her.

“Ready to go home, sweet face?” She flicked water at the hound, and Maddie jumped and barked excitedly. Carly threw on her shirt and pushed wet hair away from her face, standing still for a moment, drying in the sun and appreciating the heat for the first time in a long while.
Four months ago, Lord, I swam for my life. I prayed to you, and you answered. So many people told me to trust you, but it took that swim and the fear of death to make me cry out. Now I know you are with me and that whatever happens, I will stand. I can’t do anything but leave everything to you, and ask that you help me make the right decisions—about Nick, about the tips I follow, about life, about everything.

Carly turned and jogged across the beach toward home, Maddie on her heels. This time she was successful in leaving painful feelings in the sand.

Andrea was gone when she got home.
Probably best, because I’m late.
Carly showered, ate a bowl of cereal, and beat feet for work. In the locker room, she changed into what was known as a soft uniform. Tennis shoes, jeans, Sam Browne gun belt, white T-shirt under her Kevlar vest, and over her vest, a white polo shirt with an embroidered badge on the front and
POLICE
emblazoned on the back. She’d be moving around—following a lot of clues and leads, she hoped—and planned to be comfortable and prepared.

When she arrived at community relations, her mood got an immediate positive injection when she was told Nelson wanted her up in the homicide office this morning. She hurried up the stairs, ready to do more than field phone calls from Morris.

As she walked into the office, Nelson, who was on his way out, hailed her. “Morning.” He held out a stack of papers. “Here are some tips I want you to follow up on. Call or head out to investigate, your choice. Harris will be up in a while. He’s monitoring the news broadcasts. Use his desk. I’ll be in the field, 1-Sam 9.”

“Gotcha. Thanks.” Feeling significantly better than when she’d gotten up that morning, she took the offered stack and leafed through it.

Before she sat at the desk, she checked the progress board set up for A.J. It was a large whiteboard where the main players in the investigation recorded their activities and actions. She learned everything that had gone on while she’d been asleep. Once she’d soaked it all in, she sat down at the desk and turned her attention to the tips Nelson had given her. The first page in the stack was a list of tipsters who gave their names and numbers; people who were willing to be contacted again were always more credible than those who remained anonymous. There was also a list of citizens who lived near the hospital that she could talk to. The second page was a bunch of anonymous tips. Nothing looked really special, but Carly sat and began dialing. She’d only been calling for about half an hour when Weaver, the burglary detective, walked into the office and took a chair next to the desk, telltale bulge in his right cheek.

“I’m glad I found you. We’ve got a problem.”

“We? What’s up?”

“The burglar, Stanley Harper—he’s up in jail refusing to leave his cell and walk across to court and be arraigned.”

Carly sat back in her chair and rubbed eyes still red from her morning swim. “Why? And what does it have to do with me?”

“He says he has information, but he’ll only talk to the ‘lady cop’ who arrested him.” Weaver shrugged and spit tobacco into a Styrofoam cup. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t bother you. But the SOs in jail don’t want a use of force if they can avoid it. Harper took off his pants and tied himself to the toilet. The supervisor asked me to talk to you.”

Carly bit back an irritated whine and tried to erase the image that popped into her mind of Harper tied to a jail toilet with his trousers. She knew why the security officers wanted to avoid a use of force. Three weeks ago, they’d had an in-custody death following a use of force. Since the investigation was ongoing, she guessed they were being overly cautious. “I don’t have time for this. He screamed for his dirtbag lawyer the other night. Where’s Caswell now?”

“Seems to have abandoned the poor soul. Maybe give him five minutes?”

“I guess.” She sighed and pushed back from the desk. “I hope this isn’t a total waste of time. Maybe he’ll give up the guy who got away.” She unhooked her gun belt—guns weren’t allowed in the jail—placed it in a bottom desk drawer, left a message for Harris, and headed upstairs.

• • •

“Thanks, Officer Edwards.” Stevens, the jail supervisor, looked relieved as Carly stepped off the elevator. “I really don’t want my guys to pry him from the cell. The skinny ones always seem to have the most fight. Besides the paperwork involved in a use of force, there’s always the chance that someone will get hurt.”

“No problem. Can you tell him I’m here? Maybe he’ll put his pants on and walk to an interview room. I don’t really want to talk to him while he’s tied to the toilet half-naked.”

Stevens laughed. “I don’t blame you. Have a seat in room A, and I’ll see if I can persuade him.”

While the security officer walked down the hallway to the felony holding tanks, Carly sat down in the interview room. Several minutes passed before she heard people walking her way. The skinny burglar she remembered from a few nights ago appeared at the door, handcuffed and flanked by Stevens.

The jailer sat the man down in a chair across from Carly and asked her, “You want me to hang out?”

Carly shook her head. “No, that’s okay. He’s not going anywhere.”

Stevens shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind him. Carly tried not to breathe too deeply. Harper smelled like a man who hadn’t showered for days, and he probably hadn’t.

“What’s up, Mr. Harper? A few nights ago, you didn’t have anything to say to me. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I was thinking we could work a deal.” He leaned forward, a posture forced by the handcuffs behind his back.

Carly clicked her tongue and stood. “Look, I’m not a burglary detective, and I’m not a DA. If you want a deal, you should have called for one of them. I don’t work deals.”

“No, wait! Don’t leave!” the burglar begged.

At the door, Carly turned to face him. He was sweating and nervous. Probably coming down off of speed.

“I have something for you. It’s just that . . . well . . .” He tried to rub his chin on his shoulder. “It’s just that once I say what I gotta say, my life won’t be worth much up at county jail. You have to promise to protect me.”

“Talk. Depending on what I hear, I’ll tell you what I can do. I’m not making any promises.” She stood at the door, one hand on the doorknob, the other on her hip.

He leaned back as far as the cuffs would allow. “I ain’t a snitch, but I’m scared for my girlfriend. Her name’s Mary Ellen. I’ve been trying to call her, and she don’t answer. I’m afraid they done something to her.” He looked away.

Carly checked her watch. “This is touching, but what does it have to do with the burglary?”

“It ain’t about the burglary, at least not directly. It’s about that kid, the one that got snatched from the hospital.”

CARLY STARED AT HARPER
for a minute before she sat back down. “What do you mean?” On the edge of her seat now, her entire body tingled with anticipation; she didn’t notice the smell anymore, and she leaned close to hear what he had to say.

He swallowed. “I saw you on TV next to the dad when he was asking for his kid back, and . . . well, I think my girlfriend took the baby, and I think she’s in trouble.” He swore. “I think they’re both in trouble.”

Carly pulled a small notepad and pen out of her back pocket. “Talk, Mr. Harper. If you are on the level, I’ll help you. But if you’re yanking my chain, I’ll personally drag you across the street for your arraignment.”

“Will you take the cuffs off?” he asked hopefully, trying to raise his shackled hands above the tabletop. At Carly’s glare he dropped his hands and leaned forward. “I’ll tell you the truth. I got nothing to lose. It’s like this: I work for a guy who finds things—all kinds of things—and he even finds people if that’s what the buyer needs. He’s good at moving everything under the radar so the cops don’t find out.”

Carly studied Harper and digested this information. “What do you do for this guy?”

“Odd jobs, mostly grunt work. Sometimes I steal for him.” He looked away, and Carly struggled to keep her expression neutral.

Harper licked his lips and continued. “He pays good. Anyway, I was shredding paperwork they asked me to shred, and I read some stuff I wasn’t supposed to. Some people wanted a baby and they were willing to pay big money for one. But my boss didn’t think they were willing to pay enough, so he told them to pound sand. I figured if I did the job, I’d get the cash. It was a lot of money to me. That’s why I was at the hospital when you arrested me. I asked my employer if I could do the job and pocket the cash.”

“Whoa! You were going to steal a baby to sell it?”

Harper looked indignant. “It’s what I do. I steal things to make money. But I only earn a few hundred here and there. And I got a big gambling debt to pay. So I figure there’s no big difference between a baby and a TV or stereo. Anyway, I ain’t saying I’m proud of it, but how else would a guy like me earn twenty-five grand?”

Carly swallowed her disgust and nodded for Harper to go on.

“My employer laughed, said there were things I didn’t understand about the deal, but he gave me the go-ahead and told me to see what I could do, but be sure not to get caught.” He shook his head and stared at the table.

“Who’s your employer?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can you get me a deal?”

“For what? You’ll have to tell me a lot more than you have so far for me to even consider still talking to you.” Carly scowled and leaned back. “Who wanted the baby? Who were you going to sell the baby to?”

“That I don’t know. I figured once I got the kid, my boss would connect me with the buyer.”

“Do you know where the buyer is? Here in Las Playas?”

He scrunched his face as if trying to remember. “I don’t think so. I think they may be in another state.”

“Why does this buyer want a baby?” Carly pressed a fist into her vest, working hard to control her anger.

“I don’t ask why people want things; I just get them. All I can say is, I was promised twenty-five large to deliver a baby.” He looked up at Carly, and she felt her stomach turn.

He talks about selling a baby as if it were a puppy. A.J.’s life has a price tag: a paltry $25,000.

“I told you I need the money to pay some big debts. I owe a guy who has people hurt you if you don’t pay him. Trouble is, you pinched me. When you got me, I was taking the security schedule so I could figure out the best time to snatch a baby. I been burglaring since I was twelve. You seen my record. I thought it’d be easy.”

“I still don’t see why you think your girlfriend took the baby. You’re in jail, and the security schedules are locked up where they belong. Besides which I’m certain hospital security has changed things. Why are you so sure she has this kid?”

“She never liked the idea of taking a kid in the first place, but she feels responsible for me getting caught. I talked to her after I got here. The guy I owe threatened her. He sent some muscle to tell her he was counting on me giving them what I owe. I’m way overdue. They told her she better find a way to get me out of jail or to get them the money. They threatened to kill us both.”

He stopped talking and studied his shoes. Carly sat back in her chair to prevent herself from reaching across the table and slapping him. When he looked up, his eyes were watering. “I thought I would be bailed out and maybe still be able to do the job. But Detective Weaver raised my bail. I talked to Mr. Caswell, and he wasn’t going to pay that much money. That’s when it all went sideways. Mary Ellen was driving the car that night—”

“She was parked by the trash enclosure?”

He nodded. “She’s smart. Smarter than me. It don’t surprise me she lost the cops. That’s why she thinks me getting caught was her fault. Last thing she said to me was that the guy I owe money to smacked her around and told her I would pay what I owed either with money or blood. He scared her bad. She said the only way she could pay him back would be to take the baby. I told her it was crazy to try and snatch a kid now, and by herself, but she thought she could do it, being a girl and all. I didn’t think she would, but I seen the news and I know it was her that took the baby. She’s going to try and get the twenty-five grand and pay my debt.”

Carly said nothing as her mind tried to wrap itself around this scenario. She knew there was no shortage of desperate couples wanting babies, couples who would spend thousands if need be. But A.J. was way too hot. What Harper was saying made no sense, yet he seemed completely sincere and completely terrified. What was going on?

She studied the man in front of her. Finally she said, “With all the publicity surrounding this abduction, what makes you so sure these people will want to buy this baby?”

“I ain’t sure. I’m just telling you what I think Mary Ellen did.” He held Carly’s eyes. “She’s smart, but she’s just a kid. She don’t know the guy I work for or the guy I owe like I do. They’re both mean, and they’ll make good on their threats. If I go to county jail, I’m as good as dead. No telling what will happen to Mary Ellen.”

Carly stood and paced a small bit of the interview room. “If this is true, why are you telling me? Why not let your girlfriend sell the kid, settle your debt, and save your worthless life?”

“I would’ve, but she’s gone and I’m still here. Maybe like you say, no one will want the baby now, but I just know something bad has happened. I’ve been calling and calling.” He started to cry. “Please, I’ll tell you where we stay. The address I gave you the other night was old because I didn’t want you to find her. But now—please—I do want you to find her, see if she’s okay. I swear if you find her, you’ll find the kid,” he pleaded while tears streamed down his face.

Carly wrote down an address for the girlfriend, Mary Ellen Barber. Her system was given a jolt when she recognized the address on the west side as the one Harris told her that he and Nelson had staked out yesterday.

“Is there anyplace else she’d be? You two steal for a living. There must be other places you hide, people you trust. She got clean away the other night. Where else might she go?”

Harper thought for a minute. “She might go back to where I met her. She was down in Las Playas South, you know, in the flood control under Sixth Street?”

Carly nodded. She knew the area well; it was a nuisance, and it didn’t surprise her that a runaway like Mary Ellen had been there. The homeless called the place Las Playas South, while officers simply referred to it as the catch basin—the last stop before the sewer met the sea. Located under the Sixth Street Bridge, a freeway off-ramp that brought traffic into the city over the flood control channel, the area was a well-known homeless encampment that usually saw peak residency in the summer months when the foliage grew tall and thick.

The flood control channel, a concrete man-made river, funneled water from as far as San Gabriel, thirty miles away, into the ocean. In the summer months barely a trickle flowed down to the surf, less than a mile from the bridge. But in the winter the amount of water grew exponentially and became a raging river. To prevent backup, debris and fast-growing shrubs were cut back in the fall, and that usually coincided with the breakdown of any homeless village that had developed during the dry months. It was dangerous for people to be under the bridge anytime, but particularly in the rainy months. So when public service was ready to clean the channel, they would request police assistance in breaking up the homeless village.

Normally the catch basin was the first place she would look for a runaway, but Carly knew that this year, way before the channel was scheduled to be cleaned out, the homeless village was already gone. There’d been a stabbing down there that ended in a murder, and the chief had ordered the place cleared a few days ago. It was unlikely the girl would be down there now.

“I was down there looking for an old pal a few months ago, and I saw her being hassled by a couple of guys. I got her away from them, and we been together ever since.”

“What about other friends she might be with?”

He shook his head. “She don’t trust none of my friends, and she don’t have any of her own. It’s just me and her, you know? And she ain’t a thief like me; she’s just a kid.” Tears began to fall again.

A kid who may have kidnapped an infant—wonderful.
“I’ll do what I can.”

She couldn’t slow down the arraignment, but she could ask Stevens to keep Harper back as long as he could until she had a chance to check out his information.

“Just get back to me as soon as you can,” Stevens admonished Carly as she climbed on the elevator. “He has to be arraigned within forty-eight hours, so the clock is ticking.”

“Will do.” In the elevator Carly pounded her forehead with her palm.
I hope this isn’t a drug withdrawal–induced game he’s playing.
But the story was just crazy enough to ring true.

The homicide office was empty. Carly sat down at a computer and logged on. She shot Weaver an e-mail about the interview, asking him to use any clout he had to delay Harper’s arraignment till the last minute. Homicide would need time to check out his story.

Finished with the computer, she picked up the phone to check in with the tip line and was told Harris was meeting with the press information office, working on a new press release. She grabbed her gun belt and put it on while she wondered how to handle this tip in the quickest way possible.

I want to get this done.
She drummed her fingers on the desk for a minute and made a decision. She could probably free someone up to take with her, but she didn’t want to take the time. Quickly she penned a note for Nelson, saying she’d call him from the apartment if anything came of this new lead, and jogged out of the office.

• • •

The address Harper had given Carly for Mary Ellen Barber was located in an area of Las Playas known as “tweakers alley” because of the prevalence of drugs like speed and methamphetamine and an overabundance of users. Carly parked one house down from Mary Ellen’s apartment building and did a double take at a black Lincoln Town Car parked on the other side of the street, two doors down. It looked like the kind of car you hired to take you to the airport. The windows were tinted too dark for her to see if the vehicle was occupied.

Carly radioed dispatch with her location and told them to put her code 6 and out of the car for investigation. She hurried down the walkway and up the four stairs to the entry of the apartment building. Pausing on the top stair, she turned to study the expensive vehicle one more time, all manner of alarms going off in her head.
That car is out of place here. Are they dope dealers or dope buyers?
But the clock was ticking on Harper. She didn’t have time to check the car out now. She couldn’t see the Town Car’s license plate from where she was but vowed to check it before she left.

Carly turned and continued into the apartment building to find number seven. From the layout she could see that the apartment was in the corner on the second floor.

The enclosed hallway and stairway to the second floor smelled of a familiar mixture of garbage, unwashed bodies, and urine. It was a dope house mixture. Carly didn’t look too close because she knew she’d see cockroaches, and the thought made her itch.
I pray, as much as I want to find him, that baby A.J. is not in a place like this.

When she reached number seven, the first room on the second floor, the door was ajar.

“Hello? Mary Ellen?” She pulled her big flashlight from her belt and whacked the doorjamb hard.

There was no response. Slowly she pushed the door open with the flashlight. The small room in front of her was dirty and sparsely furnished, and it looked like a tornado had landed hard. Clothes were strewn about and the couch was upended, the cushions slashed and the stuffing torn out. She remembered Harper saying that Mary Ellen had been slapped around.

Am I going to find a body in this mess?

But there was no one in sight in the living room or kitchen, though it was obvious that someone had been here looking for something. But what? Or whom? Was Harper’s employer responsible for this, or was this the work of the people he owed money to?

Carly stepped in farther, boots crunching on glass from a shattered coffee table, and called for Mary Ellen again. She was familiar with the floor plan; most of the older apartments in this part of the city were cookie-cutter. The kitchen was to the left and a single bedroom to the right.

All the blinds were drawn, and the apartment was cast in semidarkness. She clicked her light on, not wanting to miss anything, and dragged the beam across the small space. Dreaded roaches skittered across the kitchen floor and caused Carly to shiver. The air in the room was stale and smelled like a combination of cigarettes and spoiled food. Carly started for the bedroom and froze.

An edge of blue fabric caught her eye. She had to push the sofa to see more, and her heart caught in her throat. It was A.J.’s sleeper, the one he’d been wearing the night he was brought to the hospital. Blue with little badges. She’d noticed it when Joe was feeding his son.