Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Wow, it’s really warming up quick,” Zara says as we step out of my car in front of a small apartment block on the west side of the city. The morning started out cool but has already warmed considerably, enough so that I pull off my overcoat and toss it in the back seat. Above us, fluffy clouds make a slow march across the clear blue sky.

  “Are we seriously talking about the weather?” I ask, shooting her a glance.

  “Okay, random fun fact time then,” she replies, grinning. “Did you know polar bears have black skin under their fur?”

  I arch my eyebrow at her. “No?”

  “Yeah. If you ever get a chance, Google it. Shaved polar bears look like wolverines or something. Super scary. All that white fluff, it’s just a ruse to draw us in. To make them look all cuddly and fluffy and soft.”

  “Why do you know so much about polar bears?” I ask.

  “I fell asleep to it last night. Don’t you ever fall asleep with the TV on?” she asks.

  “No, I fall asleep to white noise and an eye mask to block out the light. And since when did you get cable?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t cable. It was on YouTube. Sometimes I’ll just pull up something random, just to have the noise on as I go to sleep. But then if I wake up, it’s playing something totally different. Like last night. I woke up at about three and the polar bear thing was on.”

  Zara is one of those people who gets interested in everything. No matter what the subject matter is, she finds a way to peel it apart and find the thing inside that interests her. I wish I was like that, sometimes. But the fact is, some things just don’t hold my attention. I nod to the building. “Want to do this?”

  “If you’re sure,” she says.

  We both came back in this morning, going over Krauss and Thorpe with fresh eyes. I also had the unfortunate job of informing Janice that our perp may have kidnapped more than just Hannah. We don’t have physical evidence yet, but given the circumstances, I think caution is warranted. She told me she’d be happy to assign more people to the case if I need the extra manpower, which is encouraging. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed she’d offer something like that. It means all the work I’ve been doing since returning from Stillwater has paid off in spades. But her confidence only reminds me I’m going behind her back searching for my mystery woman. That it could all come crashing back down in an instant.

  As we stroll up to the building, I’m confident now the man we’re looking for is Krauss. But Janice was adamant we eliminate Thorpe as a suspect. Which means we’ll need to interview him. And since I don’t believe he’s our man, I’m not as worried about spooking him.

  The building in front of us is a standard five-over-one apartment block, with retail and restaurants on the ground floor and four floors of apartments above it. Fortunately, because it’s so early in the day we managed to find a spot on the street. Our records show Thorpe as unemployed, which gives me hope he’s still home this early. Given what I know about his work history, I don’t see him as the type who’s up at five a.m. at the gym and in the office by eight. He strikes me more of a “roll out of bed around ten” sort of guy. Another reason why I don’t think he’s our man. The abductor is smart, methodical, and absolutely committed. And given where Thorpe lives, I don’t see how he could abduct anyone and hide them in a place like this. According to his financials, he doesn’t have any money tucked away or a second home of any kind. So unless he took her and killed her immediately, he would have run into a problem of logistics.

  The probabilities that Krauss is our man just keep increasing.

  The apartment block is security controlled from the street, but all we have to do is wait until someone leaves so we can gain access. The woman looks at us funny, but I show her my badge as we pass which seems to placate her. Even if Thorpe isn’t our man, I don’t want to give him a heads up we’re coming. In situations like these it’s often best to catch people off guard. It usually makes evaluating them easier as they haven’t had time to practice how they’re going to act.

  When we reach Thorpe’s door I rap on it a few times.

  It swings open to reveal a woman probably no more than two or three years younger than me, with nothing but a sweatshirt on, which goes halfway down her thighs. She’s got long, black hair which is as straight as an arrow. “Yes?” she asks.

  I shoot Zara a glance. “Is this the home of Daryl Thorpe?”

  “Hey, D!” she calls out, standing to the side.

  Down the hall a bare-chested man appears, wearing the sweatpants that match the woman’s sweatshirt. Though, perhaps “man” is too generous a word. Daryl Thorpe still looks like a kid, which is something I know a little about. But while it’s just my face that looks young, Daryl really does look no more than eighteen. He just doesn’t seem to have filled out yet. The term “skinny white kid” comes to mind. His dirty blonde hair sticks out from under a black cap emblazoned with the Yankees’ logo and he walks with more swagger than someone of his position should have.

  “Yeah?” he asks, coming up to us. I almost gag on the body spray as he enters our periphery.

  “You’re Daryl Thorpe?” I ask.

  “So?” he says, with an air of nonchalance. I feel like he’s putting on a show for his lady friend, who’s still looking at us curiously.

  I show him my badge, while Zara does the same. His eyes widen, but he quickly recovers. “Where were you Saturday night, around eleven?”

  “Why? What’s it matter to you?” It’s like he’s tempting us.

  “We’re investigating a case.” Zara’s voice already belies the impatience she’s feeling. I’m right there with her. Thorpe strikes me as a man who doesn’t seem to care much about anything, much less meticulously planning to abduct someone. But we have to do our due diligence.

  Thorpe shoots the other woman a look. “I was here all night. Gettin’ high and counting my bills.”

  “Alone?” I ask. His friend is giving Thorpe a strange look.

  “Nah, I was with Tasmin here.”

  I turn to her. “Is that true? Keep in mind, lying to a federal officer is a felony. Punishable by up to five years in prison.”

  She swallows, hard. “Um…not exactly.”

  “Tas!” Daryl says, trying to shush her. I put my hand out to stop him from getting any closer.

  “Tell us.”

  Thorpe looks positively mortified, glancing all around the place. I get the feeling he might try to run. Maybe I’ve called this whole thing wrong. Thorpe might actually be our abductor. He could even be a thrill killer.

  “We were at the fifth street station until about midnight,” she says. “Then we came home.”

  “Fifth street station?” I ask.

  “It’s a soup kitchen,” she replies. “For the homeless.”

  “Tas! C’mon, these are Feds,” Thorpe whines. “I’ve got a reputation!”

  “Wait a second,” I say. “You mean to tell me you were both working at a soup kitchen on a Saturday night?”

  She shrugs. “Yeah. We do it ‘cause my family didn’t come from the best place. Try to give back, you know? D has been really supportive ever since we started goin’ together.” Thorpe has his hands on his head, walking back and forth like he can’t believe she’s spilling his secret. Any illusions we might have had about him have just been shattered.

  “Who’s your contact down there?” I ask.

  “Marcia. She’s always been good to us. Give her a call, she’ll confirm we were there.”

  Wow. I knew Thorpe wasn’t our guy, but this has gone in a completely different direction. “You mind if I take a quick look around?”

  She shakes her head and steps aside while Thorpe looks at her with pleading eyes. Though I think it’s more out of embarrassment than anything else.

  The apartment is well-kept. Though there is some trash and dirty dishes in the kitchen. And there’s a massive bong on the table in front of the couch. I can smell it from here. I give the other rooms a quick once-over while Zara stays with Thorpe and Tasmin. It’s only a two-bedroom, so there’s not a lot of space. But I don’t see anything that would lead me to believe Thorpe is our man. He just doesn’t have the means to carry something like this out.

  I head back through the door. “You used to drive for Ryde 4 Lyfe, right?”

  “Yeah,” Thorpe says, though he looks miserable now.

  “What made you quit?”

  “Got tired of only running midnight shifts. I think that algorithm’s screwed up. It only ever gave me ghetto jobs. Like it thought I belonged there. I just got tired of driving out where I might get shot, so I quit.”

  “Thank you both for your time,” I say and motion that we head back to the car.

  “Hey, you won’t tell the other Feds about this, right?” Thorpe calls after us. “Right?” I don’t even bother answering.

  “That was kinda pathetic,” Zara says as we get back outside. “What’s he doing? Trying to be a baller?”

  “Looks that way,” I say. “Cosplaying as something he has no idea about. I’m surprised Tasmin puts up with it.”

  “Maybe he’s great in all other respects,” Zara laughs as she gets in.

  “He’d damn well have to be to make me put up with that,” I say. “I think we can cross Thorpe off our list.”

  “Do you want me to verify the alibi?” she asks.

  I nod. “Go ahead, so we can document it in the file.” Zara makes the call as I pull away from the curb, and based on what I can hear of the conversation I can already tell it checks out.

  “Well, Marcia is just a treat.” Zara laughs. “Can’t say enough good things about ‘D’ and Tasmin. Apparently they’re there all the time.”

  I have to admit I feel a little bad for stereotyping Thorpe when we arrived. To me he looked like someone without a direction, and given his employment history, I’d assumed that was actually the case. But now I have a new respect for him. Maybe he got the wrong degree at school and has been jumping from one job to the next because he’s trying to find what he really wants to do. But I’ve regained my confidence from earlier. I know now that Krauss is our guy; he’s the only one left.

  Zara reaches back to grab the case file so she can make the notes while we’re on the way. I don’t realize what she’s doing until it’s too late and her hand is already back there. “Wait!” I yell, pulling the car to the side of the road and throwing it in park.

  “Em, what the hell?” Zara says from being jostled by the sudden stop.

  I look down at her hand; I’m too late. She’s holding the folder with the pictures from Parrish in it. I forgot to take it back in last night after I did the search.

  “Here, that’s the wrong file,” I say, which, of course, has the opposite effect. As she’s glancing down at it all I can see is her promising career going up in smoke because of what I’ve done. Because of my mistakes. Everyone close to me ends up hurt in some way. It happened with Matt, with Nick, with my parents, and now it’s going to happen with her. I’m like a human wrecking ball.

  I reach for the folder, but before I can grab it, she pulls it away, inspecting the contents closely.

  “Em,” she says. “What have you been doing?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I put the car into park and lean my head back against the headrest. Dammit. I never wanted her to have to deal with this—to have to make a choice because of me. I need to find a way to cover it up…to lie. She can’t know anything about it.

  “Emily Louise Slate,” she says, more forcefully this time. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that,” I reply. I don’t want to lie. Not to the only person left in my life who matters.

  “Who’s this woman in these pictures?”

  I can tell from the tone of her voice she already knows. It was foolish of me to think I could pretend otherwise. Zara has never been stupid. But I’m grasping at straws here. If she pulls on this thread, she may very well be out of a job because of me.

  “It’s her. The one from the hospital,” she answers for me.

  I snatch the folder away from her, tucking it back into the backseat. I can’t believe how careless I was, leaving it back there last night. I was just so tired when I got home, and I thought I might need them again, even though the initial search wasn’t productive.

  “Where did you get those pictures? I thought you said no one saw her.”

  I turn to her. “Zara, please. Just drop it.”

  “Drop it?” she asks, her face incredulous. I don’t see Zara angry often, but it’s very clear right now. “How am I supposed to drop it? You’ve been lying to me this entire time.”

  “Because if Janice finds out about this, I don’t want you going down too!” I yell. I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But the truth is, I shouldn’t even be looking into this. And I knew if I told you about it, you’d want to help, and I can’t have you risking your job like that.”

  “Did you ever think of asking me?” I look her in the eyes, and I don’t see anger in there. I see hurt and pain. “You don’t get to make decisions for me,” she says. “Just like I don’t get to make decisions for you.”

  “Zara,” I say. “I just couldn’t risk it. She’s already killed at least two people. Not to mention it would be career suicide if anyone ever found out you were helping me. I used the system last night. Without permission, to try and find this woman.”

  She holds out her hand for the folder. “Let me see.”

  I hand it back to her and she flips through the pictures. “Where did you get them?”

  “Zara—”

  Impatience surrounds her. “Where?”

  It’s clear she’s not going to drop it. Maybe if I tell her everything, she’ll be smart enough to turn me in. That would be the appropriate thing to do. But I know that’s about as likely as me winning the lottery. “I hired a private investigator once I got back to D.C. He spent a few weeks up there gathering information and was able to piece these together. It’s the only evidence I have.”

  “Did your search turn up anything? Were you able to find out who she is?”

  I shake my head. “Only four names came back that were above a fifty percent accuracy. But it’s obvious none of them are her. I checked all the records on the names; and even the pictures don’t really match. One’s a soccer mom in Idaho who got stopped for a traffic ticket. Another is almost a grandmother by now, she was convicted back in the seventies for some drug charge. The other two are prostitutes, one in California and the other in Texas. It was a zero for zero in the end.”

  Zara looks through the pictures again then hands the folder back to me. “I wish you’d told me. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

  “You are my friend,” I say, her words stinging at my heart. “But I can’t afford to lose anyone else. You’re all I’ve got left. If something happened to you…I don’t know what I’d do.” I sigh. “No, I know exactly what I’d do. I’d throw myself into my work and never come up for air. I’d become an extension of the FBI itself. That is, if they didn’t fire me for misappropriating resources.”

  Zara flashes an upturned lip. “This? This isn’t misappropriating resources. You’re looking into the death of Gerald Wright, that’s all.”

  “Despite the fact his death was ruled an accidental heart attack.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. You suspect foul play. Maybe you’re not the most unbiased person to take the case, but I don’t think it’s the career-ender you think it is.”

  “Then should we go tell Janice?” I ask. “Right now? We can grab a box of doughnuts on the way.”

  She gives me a mirthless chuckle. “Maybe don’t go that far. I’d wait until you actually have a suspect you can point to. Who knows where this woman is right now?” She glances back at the file as I stuff it in the backseat under all the rest. “But I’m willing to help you look.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” I say. “It’s like I said, I don’t want you getting too wrapped up in this.”

  “And it’s like I said,” she replies. “It’s not up to you. That would be like me deciding to keep Timber without even asking you. Which I still might do.”

  I scoff. “Are you kidding? You work longer hours than I do now.” I look away, momentarily overwhelmed. “But thank you. I don’t expect you to put your job in jeopardy for me.”

  “What, you mean when that red guy told me to sign away my soul for your personal wellbeing I should have refused? I think we need to put out an ABP on him. Note, he had black horns and a forked tail.”

  “Very funny,” I reply.

  “Listen, I need to know that you trust me to know what’s best for me. And I’ll trust you know what’s best for you, okay? If something is too heavy for me to handle, I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay,” I reply, feeling like a fool.

  “Though, there hasn’t been anything yet I haven’t been able to lift,” she adds. “You should see me in the gym.”

  “When did you start going to the gym?” I ask.

  “When I got approved for field work. You were the one who told me, remember? You said all those martial arts classes were practically mandatory. I know being in the gym isn’t quite the same, but I gave the heavy bag a good thrashing. Agent Phillips was impressed, at least.”

  I chuckle. Zara has a petite frame. I can’t imagine her doing much to those heavy bags. “I’ll have to come see that next time you’re down there.”

  “You can’t tell because of my suit jackets, but I’ve been growing some major guns under here.” She flexes her arm for emphasis. Even though I lied to her, she isn’t dismissing me. She isn’t turning away from me.

  “What would I do without you?” I ask.

  “Your life would be a lot more boring,” she replies. “But you’d figure it out. I don’t guess you have any additional information from your P.I., do you?”