Progeny (20 page)

“Anything?” he asked.

“Pretty clean,” I said.

“Yeah, here too. I came up empty at the first bedroom I went through. Nothing in this one either, unless you know how to break into a safe. We’ll have to call someone to get it open.”

“She has a safe?” I asked.

Hank nodded at the two-door cabinet that the television sat upon. The doors were open. I could see the corner of a safe located within. I walked over and knelt before it. The safe itself was a dark gray, two-foot cube. The front had a single combination lock in the center of a handle. The brand logo on the top-right corner said Impenetrable Safe Co.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed information. I had the operator put me through to a twenty-four-hour locksmith in Clearwater. I waited as the phone rang in my ear.

“Lock Masters. How can I help you?”

“Lieutenant Carl Kane with the TPD. We’re serving a warrant on a Clearwater home and have a safe that we need to get into.”

“Personal safe?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you see the make and model?”

“It says Impenetrable Safe Company. I can’t see a model number, though. It’s two foot cubed with a combination lock on the front.”

“Okay, I just wanted to see if it was a cheap brand or something with a digital keypad that I could just guide you through the process over the phone. That would be after I confirmed you as law enforcement, obviously.”

I stared at the safe. It appeared to be a quality item. “This thing looks pretty solid,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s a good safe. We’ll have to send someone out to you.”

“You can get into it, though?” I asked.

“Yup. What’s the address? I can get someone out to you right away.”

I gave it to him. He told me someone would be out within a half hour.

Hank stood from searching under the bed, placed his hands on his hips, and stretched his back. “Locksmith coming?” he asked.

“Yeah, they said someone would be out within a half hour.”

“Good. Hopefully, there’s something in there because so far, I got zip.”

“Let’s head downstairs and see if they got anything.”

Hank nodded and followed me out.

We hit the main level. Bostok was on his phone in the corner of the living room. The two Clearwater officers seemed to be searching the kitchen. I didn’t spot Jones or Donner and figured they were down in the garage.

Bostok hung up from his phone call and looked at me. “You need to go to Tampa General.”

I walked toward him. “Why?” I asked.

“The station just got a call from the hospital. Maria Flores is there with a head injury. She said your name and ‘Call the Tampa police’ to those attending to her.”

“What else did they say?”

“That’s all I got. That call was from the station, relaying the information. All they told me was she was dropped off in front of the emergency center. Significant head injury. She just said, ‘Lieutenant Kane, Tampa police.’ That’s it.”

“Okay, I’m heading over there. I’ll call your cell as soon as I speak with her.”

“Take Rawlings. Jones, Donner, and I can handle it here. Call me as soon as you know something from the hospital.”

“I will.”

We left the condo and made for our unmarked car out front.

“She must have got away,” Hank said.

I got in the driver’s door, closed it, and started the motor. “We need to know where she was picked up and who dropped her off.”

We were almost to the hospital when my phone rang. The screen on my phone said it was the station. I clicked Talk.

“Lieutenant Kane.”

“Hey, it’s Rick. I took the prints from the phone and ran them. No match.”

“Well, I pulled the sheet on Angel White. She didn’t have any priors,” I said.

“Yeah, I did the same. This phone is hers, though. It was dead. I got some power to it and went through it.”

“Anything that can help us?”

“Nothing on first glance that I saw. Her e-mail and a few other things are password protected. I called Terry from tech. He is going to come in and get on it. I’m probably going to wrap up here as soon as I hand the phone off to him.”

“Yeah, whatever you have from the scene that you’re working on can wait, aside from the phone. Maria Flores is over at Tampa General. We’re on our way there now.”

“Tampa General?”

“Yup. Somehow, she got away, we’re thinking.”

“Man, that’s good news.”

“Okay. I appreciate all the help, Rick.”

“No problem.”

I hung up.

“Anything?” Hank asked.

“Terry is coming in to see if he can get through any of the passwords on the phone. That’s about it.”

Hank grunted in response and rubbed his eyes.

My condo came into view up ahead to the right as we drove down South Hyde Park Avenue. I glanced over as we passed. I could see my bedroom windows. The lights were off, but a flicker of light from the television came through the blinds. Callie always fell asleep to the television. I wanted to be inside, in bed, lying next to her. My condo disappeared from view. We drove over the bridge and made a left toward the hospital. Hank and I pulled around the loop by the emergency center and parked along the curb. We walked inside and went to the reception desk.

I made eye contact with a midthirties woman in scrubs behind the counter. “I’m Lieutenant Kane with the TPD. A woman was brought in within the hour with a head injury, asking for me. Maria Flores.”

“One second,” she said. She left the desk and walked down the hall. She reappeared a minute or two later with another nurse in tow.

The woman came toward Hank and me. “You’re Lieutenant Kane?” she asked.

“I am. This is Sergeant Rawlings. Can we see her?”

“Miss Flores is actually undergoing some testing at the moment. It should be just a few minutes.”

“What can you tell us?”

“She was dropped off, out front, unconscious. The man who dropped her off said he was going to park his truck but then never came back. She regained consciousness a few minutes after arriving. Your name was the first thing she said. She has multiple head injuries. One at the front and back, another above the eye. She’s concussed and required suturing to the injured areas.”

“What kind of truck dropped her off? Did you get a license-plate number?” I asked.

“Sorry, I didn’t. The guy said he was coming back inside. It was a red, older pickup.”

“Okay. Does she remember the attack?” I asked.

“We asked her what happened. She was a little foggy on the details. They may come back. That’s to be expected in something like this. Why don’t you two have a seat? We’ll come get you in a couple minutes.”

“Sure,” I said.

Hank and I headed to the waiting area and took seats in the back corner. Hank scooped up a magazine and began to thumb through it. I thought about Maria Flores.

Hank glanced over at me. “What’s up? You have the thinking face going.”

“Nothing. Just wondering how the hell she got away. That, and nothing in the gas-station video shows her getting hit in the back of the head.”

“Well, maybe we’ll find out.” Hank motioned toward the nurse we’d spoken with, walking back over.

“You guys can follow me,” she said.

Hank and I trailed behind her down the hallway. She led us into an emergency-care room. A doctor was attending to Maria Flores, sitting on a table. She looked over at us, her head partially wrapped in gauze. The side of her face was stained from either iodine or blood. The doctor told her he’d see her again shortly and came toward Hank and me, just inside the room.

“Just a couple minutes here, officers. We’re going to be taking her upstairs to a room for the night. We’ll need to monitor her.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said.

We walked over to the woman seated on the table. She stared at us.

“Mrs. Flores. I’m Lieutenant Kane. We spoke on the phone, remember?”

“Stubborn,” she said.

I showed her a bit of a smile. “Can you tell us what happened?” I asked.

“It’s a bit fuzzy. I remember being at work, outside in the back. I remember looking at a woman’s phone. I remember waking up in a trunk. The woman shouted instructions at me. She was trying to get me to go into a house. I tried to run. She hit me over the back of the head with something. A rock, maybe? I say that because that’s what I hit her with. After that, I just ran down the street of some old neighborhood. It’s kind of like a dream. I remember feeling dizzy, and then I woke up here. It’s just bits and pieces,” she said.

“You hit her with a rock?” I asked.

“I just… I knew something bad was going to happen if I went in that house. I guess instincts took over. She hit me as I tried to run, which dazed me, and then I hit her and ran.”

“Do you know who brought you to the hospital?” Hank asked.

She shook her head and winced. “Sorry.”

“Well, I saw what happened at your work. The woman who attacked you is an accomplice of the woman I warned you about. Do you remember anything specific about where she took you?”

She shrugged. “Just some old neighborhood.”

“Did you see street signs or house numbers?” I asked

She looked down and shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember how long you were in the trunk?” Hank asked.

Maria was quiet. She held her palms up. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” I said. “You’ll be safe here for the night. I’m going to get someone from our department to watch over you. I’ll stop in tomorrow… or, actually, later today and check in on you.”

“Okay,” she said.

Hank and I left the room and stood in the hallway.

“Now what?” Hank asked.

I headed toward the front desk as Hank followed. “We’re going to find out who dropped her off.”

The nurse we’d spoken with when we walked in was heading past us.

I stopped her and asked, “Do you guys have a camera out front in the drive-through area?”

“A couple, I think,” she said.

“Who do we need to talk to in order to look at that video?”

“Um, I can get someone from security.”

“Perfect,” I said. “We’ll be in the waiting area by the entrance.”

“I’ll have them meet you over there.”

I nodded. We walked back to the waiting area by the front doors and took a seat. I pulled out my cell and dialed the captain.

He picked up right away. “Hey, Kane.”

“Cap. Did you get into that safe yet?”

“Not yet. The guy got here about ten minutes ago. He keeps going back and forth to his truck.”

“Did you find anything else in the house?”

“Jones and Donner brought up a box from the garage. They’re going through it now. We have Carmen Simms’s name on a couple of documents. So far, nothing looks current. What about you? What’s going on over there?”

“Well, it’s Maria Flores. She can’t remember much, though.”

“How is she?”

“She took a couple hits to the head. Concussion. They’re keeping her overnight. It seems like she’ll be fine, though. I need to call Mueller and have him send someone from patrol over to watch her.”

“I’ll get someone from patrol out there. Did she remember anything that can help?”

“Not really. We’re waiting on someone from security to let us see their video. I guess whoever dropped her off at the hospital took off. I want to see if we can get a plate number and track it back.”

Hank and I sat huddled around a bank of monitors in the hospital’s security room. John, the sixty-some-year-old lead on the hospital’s late-night security staff, took us through the footage. We were nearing the time that Maria Flores had been dropped off.

“Her being dropped off should come any second here,” John said. He rubbed a knuckle under his nose, moving his thick white mustache side to side.

We watched the screen. An older full-size pickup truck pulled around the loop. A middle-aged African-American man stepped from the driver’s side. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. He rounded the back of the truck and pulled Maria Flores from the passenger side. He sat her on the bench out front and walked back toward his truck. A nurse came from the front doors of the emergency center. The two appeared to exchange words. The nurse walked back inside, and the truck pulled away.

“Pause it,” I said.

John did.

The back bumper of the truck was clearly visible on the screen. I pulled my notepad from my jacket pocket and wrote down the plate number.

“Okay, you can play it,” I said.

John restarted the footage. The rest of it showed the nurse reappearing with another staff member and taking Maria Flores inside.

“Should be all we need, John. Thanks,” I said.

“Sure. Let me know if there’s anything else.”

“Will do. Come on, Hank. Let’s go run this and see what we get.”

I motioned for Hank to follow me from the security office. We walked outside to our cruiser. I hopped in and plugged the tag number into the car’s computer. It processed and kicked out a result—a man named Adrian Wallace. The address was in Tampa Heights, but no phone number was listed. I looked further down, into the guy’s priors. He was clean. I let out a breath and looked over at Hank. “Tampa Heights address.”

“What do you think?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll find out. Ready for another trip?”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

I fired up the cruiser. The dash clock read 4:14 a.m. After a few more hours, I’d hit the twenty-four-hour mark for working nonstop. I smirked at the thought. The idea of working literally around the clock almost seemed like a goal to achieve at that point. We neared the address on North Jefferson Street within ten minutes. The location was just a block over from Robles Park, where we’d found the body of Henry Pullman. I turned left and pulled up to the curb across the street from the house. I glanced over. The 1920s white bungalow looked well kept in the streetlights. An old cypress tree towered over the right side of the house. A wheelchair ramp covered the front steps leading up to the porch. Hank and I got out and walked up the ramp to the navy-blue front door, lit up by porch lights.

“How are we playing this?” Hank asked.

I shrugged and reached out to knock on the door. “I’m just asking where Adrian is and what he can tell us about dropping Maria Flores off at the hospital.” I rapped my knuckles on the door.