James Andrus: The Perfect Woman

Now he sat on the edge of the bed, writing in a small blue journal. His eyes focused on the precise movements of his pen.

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t form the question in her mind.

He smiled, revealing strong, healthy teeth. “Just a few notes. All has to do with my pharmaceutical work. I think I gave you just the right amount of Oxy and 200 milligrams of Anafranil, but I want to see what happens.”

Panic surged up her throat. “Right amount for what?”

“We’re gonna see how long I can keep you here quiet and happy and with me.”

Detective John Stallings scanned the front of the shitty old lime-green motel, nasty parking lot, and the alley that led to the beach behind it. The low clouds and light drizzle gave the whole image the perfect accent of grime, gray, and grit. Typical Jacksonville.

A behemoth in a cheap jacket standing in the front of the building was his main concern. Just some guntoting crack dealer from Springfield hoping to stake out a new zone over here. He was a mountain of “show” muscle, all chest and biceps, probably an ex-jock who used his gym time to look scary but not necessarily to stay in shape. All street cops could tell the difference. Probably scared the damn hotel owner into silence and set up a stash in one of the rooms upstairs. That’s why a lanky kid in a Patriots hoodie was at the base of the stairs. If they moved in too quick the whole place would know the po-po were on-site.

Hidden a couple of blocks north with his black Impala in front of them, Stallings twisted his six-foot frame to stretch a kink out of his back, then looked down at his partner and said, “I just see the two assholes. The one that looks like a Jaguars lineman out front could cause some shit.” He had a good sense of danger. At least danger to himself. After sixteen years with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office he trusted his judgment when it came to tactical operations. It had taken a few too many beatings, a knife wound, and a bullet in the leg to teach him that, but no one acquired knowledge without suffering or work. Sister Mary had taught him that his first day in kindergarten.

Patty Levine nodded at his assessment, then said, “We should get narcotics in here for these two, then check out room 2-B.” Her blond hair hung in a loose braid down her muscular back. Stallings thought she looked like a cheerleader who would kick your ass. And he had seen her do it on several occasions.

“No time for the street team. If she’s up in the room, we gotta move right now.” He didn’t want to get his younger, more ambitious partner in the shithouse with the agency, but this was what kept him going. Finding a young girl who had run away with some middle-aged jack-off gave him the will to move in the morning and fall asleep at night. At least on the nights he slept at all. Unlike most of his fellow detectives he needed work to give him a break from home once in a while. And he needed lucky tips like this one to feel like he was doing all he could for these kids. God knows he hoped some cop somewhere was doing all he could for his Jeanie.

Stallings had asked to be assigned to the missing persons unit. First time they had ever had a detective transfer in. Usually it was just a way for a patrolman to make detective, then move on to the more interesting narcotics or high-profile homicide. For Stallings it was logical, after everything that had happened, to work in crimes/persons and handle missing persons. Even if the other detectives called it the “runaway roundup,” he didn’t care. It meant something. It also gave him the schedule to see his family more, to coach soccer, and to help Lauren with her homework. Maybe he could correct the mistakes he’d made with Jeanie. He knew his partner, Patty, wanted to try robbery or homicide if she got the chance, but this was the only unit that made sense to him now.

They had the run of the county, and way out here in Jacksonville Beach, fifteen miles east of their main office, he had the freedom to make choices and do the right thing no matter what policy said.

Patty saw his mind drift and smiled at him. “What is it you like to say? Is today the day?”

“C’mon, I know you went through the academy ten years after I did, but they had to still be preaching it. ‘Is today the day that changes the rest of your life?’” He glanced back across the two blocks to the monstrous crack dealer, with a neck like a spare tire, in front of the hotel. When he was sure no one had moved, Stallings turned his attention back to Patty. “It’s a way to stay focused on the job. I’ve said it before every assignment, and it keeps me alert.”

Patty said, “What if I don’t want a change today? What if, and I know this sounds crazy to you, we call for backup before we tangle with a drug dealer who looks like a brown Incredible Hulk in a cheap vinyl jacket?”

Stallings let out a quick laugh. Patty was a great partner: smart, tough, and knew when to crack a joke or two. It had been hard to be around him the past few years, but she never complained or let him down. He hoped he could return the favor. But right now he was on a mission. Keeping his eyes on the mountain of dark flesh and the young lookout at the base of the stairs, Stallings untucked his shirt to cover his Glock and gold badge clipped on his belt.

Patty flipped over the cover of the battered gray metal notebook case she carried everywhere that stored all aspects of their work and her life, including her schedule, to-do lists, her family’s birthdays, and a complete schedule of the University of Florida’s sports teams games. She slid out a small photograph of a fourteen-year-old girl with bright orange hair holding a small black dog.

Stallings glanced at the photo. “I saw her picture before. If there’s a girl in that room she’s coming with us. I don’t care who she is.”

“And if there’s a man with her? We got no PC or warrant. Just a shaky tip.”

“Jail is the least of that creep’s concerns if he’s in a hotel with an underaged girl.” He looked down the empty street again. They’d have to walk down there, because the Impala the county issued him was too obvious. “Can you handle the guy by the stairs?”

Patty gave him a sly smile. “No sweat.”

Stallings never had to worry about Patty having his back. She could kick just about anyone’s ass and moved like a leopard in a fight. Her looks sometimes lulled men into thinking she wasn’t a threat. They were always wrong. He gave no more thought to the smaller thug by the stairs.

He was about to start walking when he saw someone at the base of the stairs of the little hotel. Stallings paused, then slowly ducked back into his car and retrieved a small set of Bushnell binoculars with the logo for the Ponte Vedra Inn and Club on the side. He surveyed the area under slightly more magnification and then said, “Shit, hold on.”

“What is it?” Patty held a closed ASP expandable baton in her small hand.

“A family is gettin’ ready for a trip to the pool. Looks like an Asian family with three little kids.” He checked again and saw one small girl holding a bright pink plastic tube as her mother bent to adjust her tiny suit.

“Who’d go swimming in this weather?”

“Let’s wait a minute. I don’t want to ruin these kids’ vacation if this is the only place their parents could afford.”

Finally, after several minutes of waiting, the little troupe moved down the walkway toward the pool at the rear of the building, and Stallings watched as Patty slipped down onto the beach across the street to approach from another direction.

Stallings crossed the two-lane road and then started strolling toward the hotel and the giant sentry out front. He didn’t hurry; that way Patty had time to set up. He also didn’t want this monster to have any reason to suspect that Five-0 was in the area. This wasn’t downtown; he probably expected a more polite police force. That assumption would be shattered in the next minute.