Блейк Пирс - A Trace of Vice

“I’ve got something,” he yelled.

“You are so lucky right now,” Keri hissed angrily, storming ahead of Ray, who gave her a wide berth.

When they entered the computer room, the guard had the video footage cued up to 2:05 p.m. Sarah and Lanie were clearly visible sitting at a small table in the center of the dining area. They saw Lanie take a picture of her food with her phone, almost certainly part of the post Edgerton had found on Instagram.

After about two minutes, a tall, dark-haired guy covered in tattoos approached them. He gave Lanie a long kiss and after a few more minutes of chatting, they all got up and left.

The guard froze the image and turned to face Keri and Ray. Keri looked at the guard closely for the first time. He wore a nametag that read “Keith” and couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, with greasy, pimply skin and a hunched-over back that made him look like a scrawny Quasimodo. She pretended not to notice it as he spoke.

“I got a few solid screen grabs of the guy’s face. I put them on digital files and I can send them to your phones too if you like.”

Ray gave Keri a look that said “maybe this guy isn’t so incompetent after all” but shut it down when she glared back at him, still pissed about his “overreaction” remark.

“That would be great,” he said, turning his attention back to the guard. “Were you able to track where they went?”

“I was,” Keith said proudly and spun around to face the screen again. He switched to a different screen that showed the guy’s movements throughout the mall, as well as those of Sarah and Lanie. They culminated with them all getting into a Trans Am and leaving the parking lot, headed in a general northbound direction.

“I tried to get the license plates on the car but all our cameras are mounted too high to see anything like that.”

“That’s okay,” Keri said. “You did really well, Keith. I’m going to give you our cell numbers for those screen grabs. I’d also like you to send them to one of our colleagues at the station so he can run facial recognition.”

“Of course,” Keith said. “I’ll do that right away. Also, I was wondering if I could ask a favor?”

Keri and Ray exchanged skeptical glances but she nodded anyway. Keith continued hesitantly.

“I’ve been planning to apply to the police academy. But I’ve held off because I don’t think I’m ready for the physical requirements yet. I was wondering if, when all this settles down, I could pick your brains for some suggestions on how to improve my chances of getting in and actually graduating?”

“Is that all?” Keri asked, pulling out a business card out and handing it to him. “Call this pituitary case over here for the physical advice. You can call me when you need some help with the mental part of the job. And one more thing. If you have to wear a nametag for work, get one with your last name on it. It’s more intimidating.”

Then she walked out, leaving Ray to mop up. He deserved it.

Back out in the hall, she texted the screen grabs of the guy to both Joanie Hart and the Caldwells, asking if either recognized him. A moment later, Ray stepped out to join her. He looked sheepish.

“Listen, Keri. I shouldn’t have said you were overreacting. Clearly there’s something going on here.”

“Is that an apology? Because I didn’t hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ anywhere in there. And while we’re at it, haven’t there been enough cases that looked like nothing to everyone but me which turned out to be something for you to give me the benefit of the doubt?”

“Yeah, but what about all the cases…?” he started to say, then thought better of it and stopped himself mid-sentence. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Keri replied, choosing to ignore the first part of his comment and focus on the second.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down with anticipation. But instead of an email from the Collector, it was a text from Joanie Hart. It was brief and to the point: “never seen this guy.”

She showed it to Ray, shaking her head at the depths of the woman’s apparent ambivalence toward her daughter’s well-being. Just then the phone rang. It was Mariela Caldwell.

“Hi, Mrs. Caldwell. This is Detective Locke.”

“Yes, Detective. Ed and I have been looking at the photos you sent. We’ve never seen that young man. But Sarah mentioned to me that Lanie said her boyfriend looked like he should be in a rock band. I wonder if this might be him?”

“It’s quite possible,” Keri said. “Did Sarah ever mention a name of this boyfriend?”

“She did. I’m pretty sure it was Dean. I don’t recall a last name. I don’t think she knew it either.”

“Okay, thanks very much, Mrs. Caldwell.”

“Is that helpful?” the woman asked in a hopeful, almost pleading voice.

“It may very well be. I don’t have any new information for you yet. But I promise you, we’re focused hard on finding Sarah. I’ll try to update you as much as I can.”

“Thank you, Detective. You know, I only realized after you left that you’re the same detective who found that missing surfer girl a few months ago. And I know that, well…with your daughter…” Her voice cracked and she stopped, clearly overcome with emotion.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Caldwell,” Keri said, steeling herself so that she wouldn’t lose it.

“I’m just so sorry about your little girl…”

“Don’t worry about that right now. My focus is on finding your daughter. And I promise I’m going to put every ounce of energy I have into that. You just try to stay calm. Watch a crappy TV show, take a nap, do anything you can to stay sane. Meanwhile, we’re on this.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Mariela Caldwell whispered, her voice barely audible.

Keri hung up and looked at Ray, who wore a worried expression.

“Don’t worry, partner,” she assured him. “I’m not going to lose it just yet. Now let’s find this girl.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“I think it’s time we check in with Edgerton. He’s had long enough to review the data from the girls’ phones. And now we have a name for the guy in the food court – Dean. Maybe Lanie mentions him in one of her posts. Her mom may not know anything about him but I think that may be more due to lack of interest than Lanie hiding him.”

As they walked through the mall toward the parking lot and Ray’s car, Keri called Edgerton and put him on speaker so Ray could hear too. Edgerton picked up after one ring.

“Dean Chisolm,” he said, dispensing with any greeting.

“What?”

“The guy in the screen grabs you had sent to me is named Dean Chisolm. I didn’t even have to use facial recognition. He’s tagged in a bunch of the Joseph girl’s Facebook photos. He’s always wearing a cap pulled down or sunglasses like he’s trying to hide his identity. But he’s not very good at it. He always wears the same kind of black shirt and the tattoos are pretty distinctive.”

“Good job, Kevin,” Keri said, once again impressed by their unit’s resident tech savant. “So what do you have on him?”

“A decent amount. He’s got several drug arrests. Some are for possession, a couple for distribution, and one for being a courier. He did four months for that one.”

“Sounds like a real solid citizen,” Ray muttered.

“That’s not all. He’s also suspected of being involved in operating a sex ring using underage girls. But no one’s ever been able to pull him in on that.”

Keri looked at Ray and saw something change in his expression. Until now, he’d clearly thought there was a more than solid chance that these girls were just out joyriding. But with the news about Dean, it was obvious that he had gone from mildly uneasy to full-on concerned.