John Miller - Upside Down

“There were extenuating circumstances. Michael's partner is out of town. It was a field decision I made because I wanted manpower in motion.”

Adams nodded. “You should reconsider that ‘field' decision, because it is highly suspect when viewed with certain evidence we've already obtained.”

“If she shoots…” Suggs started.

Winter said, “Your men chased her here directly from the aquarium, where she went through metal detectors going and coming. We have good reason to believe Faith Ann is in danger from someone on your force, which is why Agent Adams is here. Whoever killed the child's mother is still after her and is getting real-time police intelligence.

“Agent Adams and I are going in there, and we'll escort Faith Ann out. I will be accompanying her wherever she goes from here on out, and nobody is going to interrogate her without her legal counsel, C. Errol Cunningham, present.”

Suggs's eyes reflected that he was very familiar with the energetic New Orleans criminal defense attorney-a man with an unparalleled ability to make life a living hell for anyone who found themselves opposing one of his clients.

Suggs was trying to compose himself. Winter knew the wheels in his mind were spinning as he tried to figure out what to do. “My detectives are highly competent. They didn't make the connections, because you withheld next of kin information.”

“I've been gathering information, not giving it out,” Winter said. “I'll make this easy. I'm going in now. Unless we request your assistance, no officers will come inside.”

Adams keyed his radio. “This is Number One,” he said, knowing Nicky alone would be monitoring the radio. “Massey and I are going in. Watch the perimeter. Spot anything queer, let me know immediately.”

Suggs looked around, probably trying to spot whoever Adams was addressing.

Winter dialed Faith Ann's cell phone as soon as they were inside. She didn't pick up.

“I'll take the main ramp. Take the elevator to the top floor of the parking deck and come down. And be careful. That couple is probably in here.”

“Number One?” Nicky's voice said.

“Here,” Winter said into his radio.

“I have Mr. Fashion outside Brooks Brothers, talking on a cellular. Okay, he's moving. Turned the corner, I think he's heading back to their car. What do you want me to do?”

“Is he moving fast?”

“No.”

Winter couldn't be sure Suggs had informed him of their presence, but it would explain why he was retreating. “Then hold your position.”

He put the radio into his pocket and started up the ramp. “Faith Ann! It's Winter Massey!”

He heard nothing but the plaintive whistle of the ferry at the base of Canal Street.

It was impossible to predict whether Faith Ann would stay in the deck, maybe hide in or under a car, or if she had gone into the main complex, which was what he would have done. He didn't think the police could get her out of the building without Nicky seeing the activity, but he doubted Suggs would risk having the Feds catch them at it. Suggs was either going to be very cautious now, or act in the rash manner of a desperate man. Winter hoped the captain wasn't feeling desperate yet. But since he didn't know the man, nor how dirty Suggs's hands might be, there was no way to judge what he might do.

There were a lot of places for Faith Ann to hide, but if she tried to exit the building the cops would get her for sure.

On the first parking level, after he had yelled out several times, he spotted a backpack next to the stairwell door. There was nothing on its exterior to indicate that it belonged to Faith Ann, but he knew it was hers. As soon as he saw the dark red sweatshirt and zoo cap inside, he radioed to tell Adams and Nicky that Faith Ann had changed her clothes. He had no way of knowing why she'd abandoned the pack where it would be found, unless she'd decided that it had become part of the description of her that her pursuers were going by. He wondered if she had done it to lead her pursuers in the wrong direction. If she was older, more experienced, he would have assumed it was calculated misdirection.

There was nothing else in the backpack of help, and nothing to indicate that she had been lugging it for any reason other than to hold a change of clothes. He lifted out the new Walkman-the one whose packaging he had found under the porch. He opened the battery compartment and saw that the batteries were the same brand as the two she'd left behind under the house. He put it back. Before standing, he turned his head and spotted the earphones beneath a nearby car. He reached under and lifted them out. Why had Faith Ann thrown them there?

“Adams, if you spot her, don't frighten her.”

After calling Faith's name out again, Winter dialed Kimberly Porter's cell phone again. This time Adams answered it.

“Third level. Inside the stairwell.”

Winter ran up the stairs and found Adams holding the phone in his raised hand.

“It was just sitting on the steps.”

“She left a false trail,” Winter told the federal agent. “She's long gone. I think she planted the pack on the floor below, then came up to dump the phone and went out or doubled back. She could have gone into the building next door.”

“She could be anywhere,” Adams said. “We need a psychic.”

“Exactly. Go down and tell Suggs we would like a K-9 and a handler.”

The small-framed, wiry German shepherd walked beside its handler, a thin NOPD officer who could have easily passed for a high-school student. Adams walked behind them. Winter wanted to start at the last place Faith Ann had been, for good reason. While Adams went for the animal, Winter had gone back down, gotten her cap from the backpack, and brought it back to the second-level stairwell where Adams had found the phone.

“Deputy Massey, this is Patrolman Gale,” Adams said. “And his partner Beaux-Beaux.”

“He's got a great nose,” the young cop said proudly.

Winter opened the door, reached in, and picked up the cap, which he had placed on the concrete floor. He handed it to Officer Gale, who held it down for the dog to sniff. Beaux-Beaux focused on the scent, made a quick circle, came straight back to the door, lowered his head and froze before the door, growling.

“He's alerting,” Gale said.

Beaux-Beaux started up the first riser, then whirled and came back down.

On the first level, the animal stopped at the door and signaled to go out. He found Faith Ann's backpack and led his handler toward the ramp down.

Winter directed the handler to take Beaux-Beaux back into the stairwell, and the animal excitedly began a descent.

“She doubled back,” Winter said.

At the bottom floor the dog led them through the double glass doors into Canal Place, but the dog didn't head straight into the area. He stopped at an unmarked steel door, put his nose to it, and barked.

Winter tried it. “Locked.”

“Beaux-Beaux says she went in there,” the handler assured them. “We can get maintenance to open it.”

“Allow me,” Adams said. “You better turn your back, Officer Gale.” He reached into his coat and took out what appeared to be a fountain pen. He popped it open and poured a pair of lock-picking tools into his palm. Using one as a tension bar, he worked the other one carefully. Within seconds Adams opened the door, and Beaux-Beaux pulled his handler through.

The animal worked its way down two hundred feet of hallway and through several doors, finally leading the trio through a physical plant packed with pieces of machinery working hard to perform tasks required to keep the building supplied with air and water.

The animal took them on a curving course between water pumps and around vents and pipes before coming to a pair of doors. They entered a wide companionway where a janitor, working within some plastic warning cones, was mopping what looked like vomit from the tiles. Beaux-Beaux sneezed violently. The scent of bleach had interrupted his trail.