Deadly Deception (7 page)

Lane sat at the small round table in his hotel room with the contents of Mandy Morris's investigative file folder strewn across the table and taped on a nearby wall.  His heart clenched as he glanced at the photo he'd enlarged from her university identification card.  She was so damn young and full of promise.  She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't ugly either.  She had the girl-next-door look with pale skin and a scattering of freckles, large green eyes, and a strong, determined jaw.  She was a young, smart woman who didn't deserve the lack of respect or love in her life.  That someone extinguished this girl like the way one would ground out a cigarette butt was reprehensible to him and made him that much more determined to get her justice.

He pulled out her cell phone records again, hoping they'd provide a clue as to where Mandy went after she moved out of her boyfriend's apartment and her dormitory.  Where could she have gone?  She had no family to rely on.  He used a yellow highlighter to mark the calls she'd made to the Pizza King delivery then dialed their number.  The kid who answered the phone was clueless so he identified himself and asked for the manager.  He waited a good ten minutes before the manager sifted through his records.  It was worth the wait.  The manager gave him an address on East 19th Street near the Memorial Stadium.  His call to the Chinese restaurant revealed the same address.

He slipped his notepad back in his pocket, grabbed his jacket and left for his car.  He turned onto East 19th Street and noticed a bus stop.  Since Mandy didn’t have a car, this must be the bus stop where she waited for the bus.  He pulled up in front of a newer looking brick apartment building and noticed a woman with a pronounced baby bump pulling a shopping cart filled with packages into the building. 

As he approached, he noticed the building was much larger than it initially appeared, housing at least ten or more apartments.  Mandy Morris' apartment was listed as 3B so he headed up the staircase.  A very pregnant, but tiny woman answered the door.  She couldn't have been more than five feet tall.  She moved back to let him in after he showed her his badge.  She introduced herself as Connie and led him to a small living room where he sat on the sofa.  She slowly lowered herself to a chair nearby and looked very uncomfortable.

"What do you want to know about Mandy?"

"Did Mandy live here?"

"Yes, Mandy was already living here when I moved in.  She was farther along in her pregnancy than me.  Why are you asking questions about her?"

Lane paused for a second, unsure whether to tell the woman bad news like her roommate's murder.  He didn’t want to shock some poor woman into giving birth on the spot. The last thing he needed was to be the one to deliver the baby. 

"I'm afraid I have bad news.  Mandy Morris was murdered and I need your help to find her killer."

"That's terrible."  She paled a little but didn't overreact like he feared she would.

"I'd like to ask you some questions about Mandy."

"Sure, anything I can do to help."

"Did Mandy have any visitors?"

"No.  It was so sad.  I don't think she had any family or friends.  She talked a lot about her boyfriend.  She seemed to think he would show up any day and rescue her.  Of course, the bastard never did."

"So he didn't visit her?"  Dumb question.  Of course, the little self-involved asshole never visited.  He wanted Mandy out of his life.

"No."

"Did Mandy socialize with any of your other neighbors?"

"Sure.  We had occasional pizza parties and she'd talk with the other girls who live in the building."

"When was the last time you saw Mandy?"  He quirked his eyebrow questioningly.

"She stayed here after the baby was born.  I didn't tell the agency."

"What agency?"

"The Forever Home Adoption Agency — F.H.A.A."

"Why would it be their business?"

"They pay our rent until the baby is born, and then we have to find another place to live.  Mandy was so alone that I didn't have the heart to ask her to leave.  I didn't think she had any place to go."

"Did she say anything about her plans?"

"It worried me when she decided she wanted her baby back."  She paused for a second.  "I told her I didn't think that was going to happen because she signed some papers.   Besides, with all the money the agency spends on rent, food, and prenatal care.  It's not likely they'd let her have the baby back."

"Do you know if she talked to anyone at the agency about it?"

"I don't know.  I woke up one morning and she was gone.  She left her clothes and everything.  I've got them boxed in the other room if you want to see them.  A new roommate from the agency is moving in soon and I have to get rid of them."

Lane sifted through the few things Mandy Morris owned but found nothing of interest.  As he left the apartment, he almost bumped into a pregnant girl with long, blonde hair tied back with a ribbon and about the same age as Mandy Morris.  She was carrying a box and looked like she was moving in.

Lane went from apartment to apartment trying to get information about Mandy from her former neighbors. 

A brown-haired woman answered the door at the next apartment. She looked like she was eighteen years old if a day.  She was tall with a baby bump that barely showed.

Lane pulled out his badge and introduced himself.  “I’m Detective Lane Hansen and I’d like to ask you some questions about Mandy Morris.”

“Why are you asking questions about Mandy?”

“I’m in charge of her homicide investigation.”

“Homicide?  Mandy’s dead?”

Lane watched her carefully for her reaction. She reached out to grip the door knob as the shock of Mandy’s murder hit her full force.

“When did this happen?”

“Six weeks after she gave birth.”

“Oh my God.  I am so sorry to hear this.”  She sounded sincere enough.

“Did you know Mandy confided in a nurse at the hospital that she wanted to keep her baby?”

"Oh, no.  That wouldn’t be permitted."

"Who wouldn’t permit it?"  Permit it?  Since when does a woman need permission to keep her baby?

The girl, wide-eyed from fear, slammed the door in his face leaving him surprised and even more curious than he was before he talked to her.

He took a new tactic with the next girl.  "I'd like to ask you some questions about the Forever Home Adoption Agency."  She had the same reaction as the first.

Again and again, each girl went from calm and friendly to frightened in seconds.  What is it about this adoption agency that is causing such fear?  And why won't anyone talk to him about it?

He watched the apartment house from his car until around midnight.  During all that time, there was only one person he noticed that wasn't pregnant and that was the guy mowing the lawn.  Every single person who entered or left the apartment house was in some stage of pregnancy.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize the adoption agency housed its pregnant girls here.  It was almost like an incubator for adoptive babies.  And if the girls got free rent, food, expenses and medical care, what did F.H.A.A. get?  He wanted to know more about the adoption agency so he headed back to his hotel and his laptop.

The next day, Lane Hansen sat in his unmarked black SUV with tinted windows less than a block down the street from the adoption agency satellite office in Bloomington. He had a clear view and watched pregnant women go in and out for hours.  He’d already checked out there was a clinic on the first floor and the agency offices were on the second. 

 A gleaming black Mercedes-Benz Roadster slipped into a parking spot near him and he watched a couple get out.  The car probably cost more than his annual salary times three.

The couple, who were in their forties, held hands like teenagers on a date.  The woman, a statuesque blonde, wore an expensive emerald green designer suit and matching pumps with four inch heels.  She seemed happy and excited about something and didn't stop chattering to the man until they disappeared through the entrance of the building. Were they here to adopt a baby?  Were they here to buy a baby?  Those were the million dollar questions.

He input their license plate into his laptop and watched the loading icon until information danced across the screen.  It appeared the happy couple was Mr. and Mrs. Robert Crowne whose home address was in Indianapolis.  They'd come a long way to discuss an adoption, he thought.  Why not deal with the dozens of agencies in their home town?

He wanted to follow them in, but realized how noticeable a lone, very large male would be in the sea of pregnant women and nurses dressed in scrubs.  If his partner wasn't pregnant with triplets and on bed rest, he could wander in with her as part of a couple and snoop all he wanted.

For the remainder of the day, he noted well-heeled couples enter the adoption agency building and he ran the plates for each one.  Most of them were from out of town which strengthened his theory that the agency may be involved in illegal adoptions for profit.  If he was right and Mandy Morris had kicked up a fuss about getting her baby back, there was a good motive for her murder.

At nightfall, his growling stomach led him to a nearby mom and pop restaurant.  After he ordered dinner, he did some people-watching while he waited for his food.  He noticed a couple at a table nearby.  They were animatedly discussing their days at work.  The woman had blonde hair and looked nothing like Frankie; but she reminded him how much he had screwed up and how determined he was to get Frankie back.

After dinner, he checked into his hotel room and answered emails and phone calls.  He called his boss to give him an update.  He also looked up the home address of Dr. Eric Caine, who owned the Forever Home Adoption Agency.  He waited for nightfall then slipped into a black hooded sweatshirt and running pants along with his black Nikes.

Around ten o'clock, Lane sat in his SUV plugging in Dr. Caine's home address into his GPS.  Soon he was on Headley Road going north leaving the city lights behind.  He passed the 1200 acre Griffy Lake Nature Preserve with 1.2 miles to go.  Soon he rolled to a stop in front of a huge red-brick home set off the road in the midst of a couple of acres of land thick with trees. It matched the photo he'd obtained from the Internet.  It seems Dr. Caine bought the house two years ago for 2.5 million dollars.  It had six bedrooms, a theatre room, two-story library, billiards room, three fireplaces, exercise room, and a finished basement with a wine cellar.  This guy was making serious bucks.  He knew some sports pros whose homes weren't this nice.

He did a quick check of the area from the car.  A white security gate prevented him from getting closer.  The lack of road lights and the dense woods surrounding the house made the area very dark.  He drove down the road a bit, made a U-turn then found a dirt road leading into a pasture on the opposite side of the road from the house.  He backed his SUV onto a corner of the pasture and turned off the ignition and rolled down a window.  He waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness then pulled out the night-vision goggles head gear he'd bought from a friend on the SWAT team and aimed toward the house.