Smith Investigation Series Box Set 1 (9 page)

“So?”

“He has a rapport with them. They don't know any of us, at Smith Investigations, don’t trust us. Except for Dylan. Not to mention how disorganized we’d look if the same firm sent two different teams to talk to them. Call him.”

“Me?”

“Oh, grow up!”

Chapter 4

We were all huddled in front of the largest of Robert’s screens, which he swiveled on its base to accommodate everyone.

The lights were dim in the room. Our already small windows were covered completely.

“Why aren’t we watching this on the projector?” Smith asked, looking around awkwardly, trying not to bump into someone. He wasn’t very good with darkness, and there was not enough personal space for any of us.

“Rob asked me to get the highest quality for watching and the projector just doesn’t do it,” Robert replied, sounding somehow angry at the mere existence of projectors. I was in no mood for another episode of Smith Investigations craziness, so I requested to see the footage.

There was no sound, and to say that the quality wasn't the best would have been putting it mildly. There was also no street lighting in front of the camera, apart from the tiny lamp the owners had mounted at the gate, which made the already grainy video look like a pool of various shades of black.

I could barely distinguish any shape apart from what I guessed to be the horrible graffiti-stained statue.

We watched in tense silence for what must’ve been several minutes, before I barely caught sight of some motion at the edge of the screen.

After a few paces, Fiona appeared in the frame, stepping into the lit area guarded by the lamp. She seemed like she was either sightseeing or leisurely searching for something.

Despite still wearing her pajamas, she didn’t look like she felt the chill of the night. At a certain point where the clarity of the footage was sharpest, we could see the steam of her breathing. She was coming from the direction of her house, and seemed undecided of where to head next.

Then, a bright light filled the screen like an explosion, swallowing Fiona's frame. It looked like a car had made a U turn and settled somewhere outside the frame, its headlights still obscuring part of the video frame.

From then on we lost sight of Fiona, who had gotten caught in the headlights from the stationary car.

I glanced around, blinking away the stinging sensation in my eyes, but couldn’t see anything. The light of the screen had blinded me against the darkness in the room.

Someone cleared their throat to my right, making me feel strangely uneasy. We were watching, after all, the last moments before Fiona's disappearance. Possibly the last minutes of her life.

After a few minutes of blindness, our eyes got used to the uncomfortable brightness of the headlights. I started to distinguish some movement towards the edge of the pool of light.

“They’re taking her!” I exclaimed, feeling adrenaline rushing through my veins. I was watching her getting kidnapped, yet I couldn’t do anything to help her. My assumption had been right, but what good did that do her?

The dread of having no real information enveloped me again and I couldn't help but wonder how could I possibly untangle this mess.

A murmur of agitation went through the team, as we were left staring into the light. We got so absorbed in the expectation of what we knew was going to happen that we barely noticed when the car left, leaving a deeper darkness behind.

Someone switched the light on, and I shielded my eyes like a vampire.

“So, what now?” asked DeMarco.

“First and foremost, this is proof that Fiona Petersen has not simply wandered off. It needs to be taken to the police ASAP. They can start processing the footage. We should do the same, just to make sure,” I decided.

He nodded, grabbing the disk Robert was already handing him.

Without waiting for any more instructions from me, Robert started typing, delving deep into his own forensic analysis of the footage.

I raised my eyes to the wall clock, catching a glimpse of Spike, her face the picture of concern.

“It’ll be alright,” I offered, stopping a few feet away from her. She startled.

“I’m sorry.”

Of all the things Spiked surprised me with, this was the most unexpected. Upon a closer look, she seemed more tense than scared, more inwardly focused, as if she was worrying for herself. I frowned just as she turned abruptly to face me.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“I still wonder why she suddenly needs to announce to me every time she goes to the loo,” I thought again.

It wasn’t like she was asking permission. Her issues seemed to trouble her more and more, with every day that passed. She was taking this particular case to heart for reasons I couldn't figure out on my own.

Smith took Spike’s place at my right, his hands behind his back, looking thoughtful.

“What do you think?” he asked, more rhetorically than factually.

I shook my head, unsure if whether I had anything to say in light of this new finding. On one hand, it confirmed my suspicions, but my suspicions were not the sort I wanted confirmed. If they police was indeed keeping secrets, it only meant bad things. It only meant Fiona's now confirmed kidnapping was a small part in a much bigger criminal scheme. I needed to do something in that regard, I needed to get the police to talk. But how?

“Let Robert go through the footage frame by frame. If there’s something to find there, he’ll find it.”

I couldn’t disagree. Mainly because I had no other suggestion to make.

We stood side by side, facing the larger window of the two. I was lost in thought, trying to remember the smallest details I could’ve missed, Smith looking tired and tormented.

“Can I have a copy of this footage?” I asked Robert.

“Already on your terminal.”

I went to my desk, rocking gently in the chair. I needed to think, but there was too much variation in the video. Maybe a divide-and-conquer approach, with a few pairs of eyes watching the segments of the footage would be better.

“Alright. Smith, would you mind staying for a little more?" He nodded, running a hand over his face. "Thanks. If you could look at the dark part from the beginning? Just that section. Stop when the headlights first appear in the frame. Don’t let your eyes get tricked by the light. I’ll watch from there. Spike?”

She was just entering back into the room, having been gone for more than ten minutes.

“Why don't you look at the last bit of the footage? After the kidnapping. Right when the lights leave.”

“I’m not feeling that well. I think the brightness and the video… They made me nauseous. I would like to go home. For a couple of hours only, if that’s possible. I’ve been here all day.”

I raised my eyes to hers, searching for a silent explanation for her behavior. There was no time for personal drama. We had enough on our plates as it was.

Something resembling great concern glistened in her eyes, giving me an uncomfortable feeling.

I nodded my agreement and watched as she hurried to gather her things and left without even saying goodbye.

Something was definitely up and it needed sorting out. This case was life or death and we needed all hands on deck. Spike wasn't even looking at the deck, let alone helping out.

Chapter 5

I stirred in my sleep, struggling to wake up. My bones ached acutely, making stretching a very painful process. Sleeping on the couch in Smith's office was tough business.

I stood up with only one thing on my mind: coffee.

I knew from when I worked with Smith before, that he always stashed some instant coffee in his desk. Once he got absorbed into an investigation, he would rarely leave his chair, so he made sure fuel for the mind was within reach.

To my dismay, there was nothing even remotely resembling caffeine around.

"Who is this man? Do I even know him anymore?" I mumbled to myself.

I went into Operations, hoping I would find my liquid salvation there, but I was surprised to find Robert still standing, instead. He looked like he had worked all night.

"Good morning. Have you been here the entire time?" I suspected that the pity in my voice was obvious, but he took no notice.

"Yeah. So, I've managed to isolate the car. It turns out it's a van, dark, most likely black, windowless. It's actually pretty small for a van, if you ask me..."

"Hold on, kid. When did you find this?"

He thought for a second, checked his watch, then said "Two hours ago. Why?"

"Two hou... Why haven't you told me?"

"You were just off to sleep. You were tired."

I shook my head, torn between slapping some sense into the geek or kissing him for giving me the chance to get some much needed rest.

I opened my mouth to say something, but brain lag from lack of coffee turned out to be a much stronger opponent in my fight for mental acuity.

Robert pointed me towards a tiny coffee machine, the most beautiful sight a person in my position could've wished to see. I thanked him with a nod and hurried to fix myself a hefty dose of caffeine.

"Has Smith gone home?" I asked, swallowing the first big gulp.

"Yes. Spike is on her way back too."

Spike. I needed to figure out what was up with her.

"First, let me see what you found."

He invited me to his desk, making some room for me to see the screen. I thought my eyesight hadn't yet caught up with being awake, as I stared into the darkness of the screen.

"What am I looking at?" I finally gave up and asked.

"This is a magnification of the reflection in the bakery window. I've reversed the image, so to speak. Now look."

He pressed play and I could see some movement. The tiniest glint started to rotate in an unnatural way, causing me great confusion.

"You're looking at the rear, or back half of the van. Now it's making the U turn. And here, it stops. See, if I apply a filter, you can see there are no windows."

I could see how he was struggling to speak in layman's terms. If I weren't so impressed with his work, I would've found the whole thing amusing.

"This is something. We should call DeMarco. He needs to tell the cops."

Robert nodded, resigned, probably just happy that the ordeal of speaking was over.

"Why's it so quiet in here?" we heard DeMarco.

Spike was one step behind. Seeing me, she looked down. I decided to leave my intervention for later. For now, we had to run with the new discovery.

"We know that the car was a dark, windowless van. Robert thinks it's a smaller type of van. He's made a copy of the footage. DeMarco?"

"Already on my way, Ma'am."

"Oh, and, DeMarco?"

He turned from the door.

"Anything from your guys?"

"Not really." I had the feeling he had heard something and I wasn't going to let him be the judge of its relevance.

"Well?"

"I'm serious. They don't know much. The cops were asking around about new drugs recently. Something about some online dudes. Word on the street is, there is a new mix in the block, meth and some other carp, but my guys don't know anything about it. It's pretty new."

I nodded, trying to file this information as relevant. But my nagging feeling didn't seem to be supported much by the facts.

"So, nothing on any kidnapping, then?"

"No, Ma'am."

I thanked him and turned to Spike. She sat at her desk, looking sheepish. I had the feeling that she was looking to make herself useful, redeem herself in my eyes somehow.

"Everything alright?" I asked. She nodded.

"Good morning, folks."

Smith looked awful. I refrained from telling him that.

"Morning, boss. Bye, boss."

Smith squinted at DeMarco, obviously not in the mood for jokes.

"He's going to talk with the cops again. We're doing all the work for them anyway. Take a look. I won't repeat the information."

He pulled a chair up next to Robert and leaned on the desk, squinting at the screen.

Spike was on her feet, positioning herself behind Smith.

I went to refill my cup.

"What do you think of this?" Smith asked, his eyes still on the screen.

"I'm not sure. There are as many possibilities as types of crime. Has Dylan finished the door to door?"

"He still had a few houses to go, but the word got out in the neighborhood and someone wanted to talk to him ASAP. No one's saying anything new. Or helpful."

"Text him. When he's done with whoever wanted to talk to him, he can drop the door-to-door. It's a waste of resources."

Smith frowned, clearly questioning my decision. I shrugged.

"Shall we try and piece together the information we already have?" I suggested, sitting at my desk.

No one argued.

"Alright. We have a missing chemist, and we know she was kidnapped," I started. "We're working under the assumption that her Alzheimer's was unknown to the kidnappers. There was no ransom demand, which supports the assumption that Fiona was, in fact, the target, not her family's money."

"Right. So, it's all about her," Smith stated the obvious. "She was a chemist, a mother and an elderly woman. At least to a somewhat informed outsider. I doubt they kidnapped her for her age or motherly knowledge."

"Which leaves us with her being a chemist. The kidnappers need her skills. The million dollars question is for what exactly?"

"Yes. I mean, the van, as we know it at the moment, doesn't help all that much. It's a fairly common choice, especially for criminals. Plenty of room to transport things, private enough..."

"I think that it has to be either drugs, or organ trafficking. Or chemical terrorism, but I find it unlikely," proposed Spike out of the blue. She grabbed a notebook and started scribbling. It was her way of suggesting a brainstorming session.

"What about counterfeit medication?" I suggested. She acknowledged me and added it to the list.

"Which is the most probable?" Smith was always one to eliminate unnecessary information. "What do what we have so far support any of those?"

"Everything?"

He shook his head in frustration.

"She's a chemist. Let's say the kidnappers saw the newspaper article. They needed a chemist for their nasty business. This tells me they're not too established. For that, they had to already have a chemist," started Spike.

"That's right. And I think we can exclude organ trafficking. No butchered body has turned up so far. When they would've found out she has Alzheimer's and she's useless as a chemist, they would have had the means to dispose of her. And cut some losses," I followed.

"Makes sense," Spike admitted.

"I think the same goes for terrorism. And the counterfeiting."

I turned to Smith, expecting an explanation to support his suggestion. He had always been prone to weed out a bit too much information in the past.

"What? These are big operations. They wouldn't shy away from leaving bodies behind. It makes a statement."

"Maybe with the terrorism, but I don't think we should count out the counterfeiting just yet. We don't have all the information," I argued.

He raised his hands defensively. It was my case, after all.

I turned to Spike to suggest putting the counterfeiting option back on the list and caught her fiddling with her phone. Before I could chastise her, she stood up abruptly and excused herself. Again, with the bathroom!

I stared at her so intensely exiting the room, I made Smith uncomfortable.

"What's up?" he inquired.

"Spike. I'll need to have a talk with her. After we finish with this."

He remained quiet, choosing to stay out of the issue. "Good for him," I thought. It was his employee and her inefficiency, after all. But, leave it to me. How could one more task affect my already impossible schedule?

"It's drugs!" Spike came back shouting.

"What?"

"It has to be drugs."

"How do you know?" asked Smith.

"Dylan called. The neighbor that wanted to talk? He walks his dog in the park every night. He told Dylan that he smelled cat urine that night. He was just behind the rose bushes near the park entrance when the van stopped at the curb."

"Meth," I said. "It makes sense. What did he say about the guys that took Fiona?"

"Nothing. He's hearing impaired. And the headlights blinded him."

"Of course. No such luck for us."

"Why hasn't he talked to the police, then?" asked Smith.

"He was in the hospital until yesterday. He said the smell made him sick."

"Uh huh. As if."

Robert always found the weirdest times to say something, and almost always it gave any situation a ridiculous twist.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"Alright, guys," I finally spoke. "I'll update DeMarco. Smith, do you still have that contact in Narcotics?"

"I'll see what I can do," he said and rose. To butter someone, you needed a bit of privacy, in my opinion, so I sent him into his office, while the rest of us stood behind to make a plan.