Everywhere That Tommy Goes (13 page)

“What’s her name?”

“Aurora. Aurora Storm.”

“You know where she lives?”

“Yeah, I’ve got her address.”

“You know what kind of car she drives?” asked Tanner.

“Sure—a black Mustang. Nice car. She was proud of it, too. Parked it real careful, in the back of the lot, so no one would hit it.”

“Okay, then, we’ll take that address if you don’t mind.” Tanner said.

“No problem. Wait here. I’ve got all her info in the office.”

Gold rushed off, returned in a few minutes, and handed a sheet of paper to Tanner.

“Much appreciated. Please take my card and call me if you can think of anything else.”

“Will do. Good luck. I hope you find her and everything turns out okay.”

Sung nodded as they turned and left the shop.

Once outside, Tanner grabbed Sung by the forearm. “Aurora Storm?”

“Interesting name, to say the least. You want me to run it through the system?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Uh, sorry, boss.”

“Come on. You can check her out in the cruiser while we head over to her place.”

Tanner took the wheel. Sung clicked away at the keyboard. First, he mapped her address then he searched her name.

Fifteen minutes later, the men pulled up in front of a small apartment complex.

“We’re here, Sammy. You find anything yet?”

“I’ve got a Facebook page, but the public part is very limited. Not even a picture. I’d say this girl is very careful about keeping her personal life private.”

“I don’t suppose you have a way to breach and access?” Tanner asked, offering a sarcastic smirk.

“Give me a few minutes.”

“I will. But first let’s check out her apartment. Maybe we’ll find something in there the old-fashioned way.”

The two men walked through the complex and located her apartment. Sung knocked on the door. “Hello, police. Is anyone home?”

No answer.

Sung knocked again, more loudly this time. “Hello—is anyone in there? This is the police.”

Silence.

“All right, Sammy—just break the lock. She may be inside and helpless.”

“Are you sure, boss?”

“Of course—just do it.”

Sung stepped back, raised his knee, and threw a straight leg kick into the door. It flung open wide, splitting the wood by the doorjamb.

It was a small apartment—one bedroom, one bathroom, and a tiny kitchen set within the main living area. Opened mail littered the kitchen counter. Cups and dishes were soaking in the sink.

“Looks pretty normal in here—no signs of trouble,” Tanner said, leafing through the mail.

“Agreed.”

“Hmm . . . ‘A. Storm’ on all the envelopes. Here’s an electric bill. Same deal. No other names on the mail. Guess she lives alone.”

Sung moved into the bedroom. “Bed’s unmade, both sides turned down, could’ve been two people sleeping here. Can’t be sure, though.”

Tanner was in the bathroom. “Two towels hanging over the shower rod. Maybe she had a guest.”

Sung pushed the answering machine. It started playing.

“First message,” came from an electronic voice. “Aurora, its Harry. You’ve been gone two days, and I haven’t heard from you. I suggest you call and let me know what’s going on, or I’m going to have to replace you.”

“Surf Shop guy . . . called just like he said.”

Tanner nodded. “Yeah—any other messages?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Sung answered. “Strange—no friends calling.”

“A bit odd, but she could be a loner.”

“But Gold said she was a friendly type, drew people in, and boosted sales.”

“True—maybe her friends call her cell. These days, most people don’t even use their home phones anymore. Let’s dig a little deeper. Check the drawers in that desk over there. See if you can find a cell phone bill. If we can get a number, we can call it. Better yet—maybe we can locate it using the cell towers.”

“Provided it’s powered on, boss. And provided we have a general location.”

“I’m well aware, Sammy. Just do what I said.”

“Right, boss,” Sung answered, as he pulled open the top drawer of the desk and began rifling through it.

Tanner eyeballed the dresser and picked up a photo. “Check this out: here’s our girl standing right in front of her car. This should do the trick. We even have a license plate.”

“You’d think the local cops would’ve at least come in here,” said Sung. “It doesn’t look like they even came through the front door.”

“No, it doesn’t. Pretty sad police work, if you ask me.”

“I guess they’ll get around to it.”

Tanner chuckled. “Sarcasm from you, Sammy? I never would’ve thought.”

Sung pulled a sheaf of papers from the bottom drawer of the desk. “Here we go, boss: cell phone bills, bank statements, utility bills. It’s all here.”

“Okay, read me the phone number,” Tanner said, pulling his cell from his pocket.

Sung read it out as Tanner punched it into his phone. After four rings, it went into voicemail.

“I should have figured it wasn’t going to be that easy.”

“Well, boss, we can still try to track it. But what makes you think this girl has any connection to Sullivan?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“So why bother?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences, Sammy. And even if she isn’t involved with Sullivan, she is still missing. Don’t you think that any cop worth his salt would make an effort to investigate? Obviously Knox is too concerned with appearances to do anything.”

“I hear you. And with her license plate, we have a good chance of locating her.”

“How so?”

“Her car is only a few years old. I can run her info through DMV, get her VIN, and contact Ford. If she has GPS, they should be able to assist us in tracking the vehicle. It works like Lo Jack and GM’s OnStar. If we’re lucky, we may be able to find her via satellite.”

Tanner smiled. “I always knew that some day your tech savvy would come in handy.”

CHAPTER 30

Tanner’s cell rang as he and Sung left the apartment complex. “Tanner. Who’s this?”

“It’s Chief Knox. We’ve located Sullivan’s car.”

“Great! Where is it?”

“A few blocks from the beach. It’s parked by the Chalfonte Hotel. We’ve got an officer waiting there for you. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you, Chief. We’re on our way.” Tanner turned to Sung. “They found Sullivan’s car. Knox is sending the address—some place called the Chalfonte Hotel.”

Sung’s eyes widened. “I’ll have it before she even sends it to you.” Sung tapped the keyboard and entered a new search. “Here it is, boss: make a U-turn and head toward the beach. We’re only a few miles away.”

Ten minutes later the officers pulled up behind a police cruiser that was parked in front of Sullivan’s car. Officer Patrick Gilroy exited his vehicle and met Tanner and Sung as they approached Sullivan’s Honda.

“I’m Sergeant Gilroy. Patrick Gilroy. This the vehicle you’re looking for?”

“Looks like it,” Sung answered. “Any sign of Sullivan?”

“No. The car’s cold.”

“Did you search inside?” asked Tanner.

“Not yet. It’s locked, and I was instructed to wait for you. Chief Knox told me it’s your case and to give you full control.”

“Much appreciated, Sergeant,” Tanner said, escorting Gilroy away from the vehicle. “Thank Chief Knox for us. We’ll take it from here.”

As Gilroy drove off, Tanner slapped Sung’s shoulder. “What are you waiting for, go get the tool.”

Every cop car came equipped with all the necessary equipment to open a car in seconds. Contrary to popular belief, car thieves had nothing over the police, especially when it came to breaking and entering. Sung inserted the “Slim Jim” into the gap between the window and the door panel. He pulled upward, released the lock, and opened the door. Tanner half-expected that an alarm would sound, but the decade-old model wasn’t so equipped.

Tanner began rummaging through the driver’s side while Sung took to the passenger area. After a brief search, Sung stood up outside the car. “Check out what I found under the seat, boss.” He held up a knife, still in its sheath.

Tanner rushed around. “Looks like we may have found our man. Bag it fast, and let’s move. He must be staying at the Chalfonte. Maybe we can surprise him.”

Minutes later, Tanner and Sung entered the Chalfonte Hotel and approached the front desk. An elderly woman, as much a fixture as the worn leather chairs that decorated the ancient lobby, frowned behind thick glasses.

“Oh, dear,” the old woman said, shaking. “Is anything wrong?”

“What makes you say that, ma’am?” asked Tanner.

“Well, I can’t remember the last time the police came in here, and I’ve been working the Chalfonte for quite some time.”

“Please don’t be alarmed. We’re just looking for someone, and we think he might be staying here.”

Sung took out the picture of Sullivan and handed it to the old woman. “Does he look familiar?”

She looked at the picture, removed her glasses, and let them hang from the band fastened around her neck. She brought the picture up to her eyes, held it inches from her nose, then stretched her arm out and held the picture as far away from her eyes as her arm would allow. Seconds passed as she rubbed her chin with her thumb and index finger. She put her glasses back on looking deep into the photo again. “Room 328.”

“Ma’am?” Tanner asked, perplexed.

“That man checked in here a few days ago, paid cash, and took room 328. Isn’t that what you wanted to know?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But nothing, sonny boy. I may be old, but I still have my wits about me. He’s paid up through next week.”

“Okay . . .” Tanner said. “May we have a key to his room?”

“I could ask you for a warrant, young man. You know that. But truthfully, it really doesn’t matter much to me.” She handed Tanner a key. “Here you go, but don’t you go messing that room. We keep a clean place here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tanner said. “Can you tell me if you remember the last time you saw this man?”

“I haven’t seen him since he checked in.”

“Thank you. We’ll check upstairs.”

The men traversed two flights of stairs and found the room. Sung knocked. “Hello, is anyone in there?”

Silence.

Tanner banged the door hard. “This is the police. Open the door.”

More silence.

Both men pulled their guns in unison. Tanner inserted the key and threw open door. Sung rushed in first, gun pointed ahead. “All clear, boss.”

Tanner ran to the bathroom and looked in. “Clear.”

Sung began scanning the room and quickly focused on the floor beside the bed. “Check this out, boss,” he said, picking up a pair of board shorts. “Feels brand new.”

“He probably bought that locally,” Tanner said.

“Could be.”

Tanner bent down and looked under the bed. Reaching, he pulled out a pair of thongs. “Look at this: a ‘Surf Shop’ imprint.” At that instant, everything became crystal clear and Tanner just knew. “He’s got the girl, Sammy.”

Sammy nodded in the way cops do when they agree with the conclusion but don’t want to interrupt a superior officer on a roll.

“We have to move fast. Get back on that computer of yours and put out an APB on the girl and her car. Then get started on the GPS search with Ford. We have to get the knife to the lab and have it checked for blood and fingerprints to confirm it, but there’s no doubt in my mind,
that knife is our murder weapon, and Sullivan is our man.” Tanner raced from the room with Sung at his heels.

CHAPTER 31

Stone returned to the car carrying a large tea and a bag that contained a cherry Danish and a Yoo-hoo.

Watts had just hung up the phone. “You’ve got that look on your face. What’s going on?” Stone slid into the car and handed the bag to Watts.

“Major developments, partner.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Tanner and Sung located Sullivan’s car and found a knife. It’s being analyzed by their lab as we speak. Not only that, but they think Sullivan may have kidnapped a girl down in Cape May. They believe he has her car, too. They just emailed me the details.” Watts pointed to the computer screen in the cruiser. “I forwarded Sullivan’s DNA and his prints for comparison. The analysis will take some time, but Tanner is convinced Sullivan is his perp.”

Stone should have been shocked, but she wasn’t. She calmly placed the large, Styrofoam cup in the cup holder and began reading the email. “Aurora Storm, black 2011 Mustang. If Sullivan is on the run in this car, he’s probably headed as far away from New York as he can get. We better alert the State Police in Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland, along with all the other surrounding states.”

“Agreed, but we may have a better way to track the car. Tanner already contacted New Jersey DMV, got the VIN number and is checking with Ford to see if the car has a GPS. If it does, we should be able to pinpoint its location via satellite.”

CHAPTER 32

I come to on the floor of the motel room. Man, that dude packs quite a punch. I race outside, but there’s no sign of Troyer. I don’t even know how he got here, but he must have stolen a car or something. I run down to the parking lot, get into Aurora’s car, and take off. Maybe I can catch him on the road, if he hasn’t gone too far.

I drive as fast as I can for ten minutes and don’t see anything. No other cars are even on the road. There’s nothing but woods for miles. No stores, no gas stations—absolutely nothing, all the way to the highway. I spin a U-turn and head back in the other direction. There’s only one road, so if he didn’t go toward the highway, he must have gone the other way.

I backtrack past the motel, pedal to the metal, and just keep going. In this direction, the road leads into town. There’s a diner, a gas station, and a few bullshit little stores. Further down, there’s a church and a crappy old high school. I remember that from when I worked at Camp Lakewood. Yeah, those are some good memories. First time I got laid was at that camp. Counselor named Ellen. Biggest tits I ever saw. The guys all called her “Melons,” but I never did. And that’s what got me laid . . . I think. The chick always wanted me to feel her up and squeeze those babies. So, late at night, during canteen, we’d meet by this weird-shaped tree that grew out of the ground like a banana. She’d lay up against it and lift up her shirt while I massaged her cans like you can’t believe. Man, that was hot. In fact, even now, when I think about it, I still get some wood. Anyway, I’m getting off the subject. I have to find Troyer before he does something bad to Aurora.