Jonathan Kellerman - Compulsion

Monica Hedges shifted her weight. “That has happened from time to time.”

“You’re concerned she might have driven home intoxicated.”

“What if God forbid she had an accident? But I called the highway patrol and they reported nothing on the freeway that night.”

“Is the 405 her customary route home?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Easiest way to get to the Valley, isn’t it?” Frowning. “She used to have a place near the U. that she shared with another girl – some Indian student who hit the books all the time. Which isn’t Katrina’s style, it didn’t last long. Katrina complained that everyone in the building was a student and it made her feel old. I suspect her own lack of education embarrassed her. I was hoping that might motivate her but it didn’t. She wanted her own place, said the rent this side of the hill was too steep. I told her I’d help. She never took me up on my offer, just picked up and moved to Van Nuys. Though she keeps insisting it’s Sherman Oaks. Is that logical, Lieutenant? Turning down a sincere offer?”

“Kids,” said Milo.

Monica Hedges puffed manically. “You didn’t answer my question. What exactly are you going to do for me?”

“What would you like us to do, Mrs. Hedges?”

That startled her. Ashes dropped to the granite floor. “I’d like you to detect where my daughter is. Use that computer you’ve got – tracking airline tickets, credit card receipts, phone usage. Put out one of those APBs.”

“Ma’am, without evidence of a crime, that would be an invasion of Katrina’s privacy.”

“Oh, puleeze, ” said Monica Hedges.

“Sorry, ma’am, but that’s the way it is. If she were a minor, it would be different.”

“Psychologically, she’s about fourteen.”

Milo smiled.

“You’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?”

“We’ll do everything we can, legally. That means talking to her friends, stopping by the club-”

“I already did all that.”

“Sometimes repetition helps, ma’am. We’ll also look for her car. Is she still driving the yellow Mustang that’s currently registered to her?”

“Yes, but not for long. I just got a notice that she’s missed the last two payments. That loan I did co-sign for. The agreement was I made the down payment and the payments were to be her responsibility.”

“Give me the finance-company data and I’ll see if it’s been picked up.”

“I did that myself, and no, it hasn’t.”

“Sounds like you’ve accomplished a lot.”

“Want something done well, do it yourself. So that’s all you’re going to do? It doesn’t sound very promising.”

“Let’s start and see where it leads, Mrs. Hedges. Call me anytime if you think of something.”

“Oh, I will, you’d better believe I will.”

She got to her feet, hurried to the door, held it open.

Milo said, “I’m going to ask you one more question that might alarm you, but it’s only routine, in case we do come across accident reports.”

Monica Hedges straightened and sucked on her cigarette. “What?”

“Do you know Katrina’s blood type?”

“That is… eerie.”

“Just routine, ma’am.”

“Some routine you people have,” said Monica Hedges. “I certainly wouldn’t want your job.”

Milo smiled. “Most people don’t.”

“And I’m one of them… her type is the same as mine. O-positive. It’s the most popular.”

She smoked and watched us walk to the elevator. As we stepped into the lift, I heard her say, “ There you are, darling. Is everything working ?”

The door slammed.

Milo had asked the condo valet to keep the unmarked close. When we got to the front of the building it was gone and the valet was poking a BlackBerry.

A high-decibel throat clear made the man look up.

“The Crown Victoria?”

“Had to move it, too crowded.”

No other cars in sight.

Milo said, “Could you get it?” Adding a “Please” that made the valet flinch.

The guy ambled off toward the subterranean parking lot.

Milo said, “The Shonsky girl’s been missing over a week, Mommie Dearest sees it as playing hooky, wants me to be her personal truant officer.”

“Or she’s in deep denial.”

“She says she’s nervous but all I heard was anger.”

“Anger can mask anxiety,” I said.

He looked at his Timex. “Where’d the hell he park it, Chula Vista… First Tony and his mom and Hochswelder, now this harmonious bunch. Any happy families left?”

“With our jobs we’re not going to meet them.”

“So what do you think of our missing girl? With her history of cutting town on impulse, how far do I take it?”

“O-positive,” I said. “Same as in the Bentley.”

“Didn’t you hear Mom? It’s the most popular type. Like it’s a contest. Growing up with someone like that, I can see needing to escape.”

“That kind of rivalry could also make Katrina vulnerable.”

“To what?”

“Bling. Mom marries rich but Katrina works a low-paying job. If she left the club woozy and feeling abandoned by her pals, two hundred grand worth of car rolling up would’ve seemed heaven-sent. Talk about something to one-up Mommy.”

“ If she was picked up, I don’t see it happening at the Light My Fire. I was there last year, chasing a dead lead on a drug murder. The male clientele’s acrylic shirts, too much hair gel, and dance moves worse than mine. Someone drives up in Heubel’s Bentley, the bouncers and everyone else would’ve noticed, and by the time the guy hit the floor, fifty women woulda been all over him.”

He phoned the club, asked to speak to the manager, looked at his watch again, scowled. The line clicked in. A brief conversation followed.

“Guy laughed, said what do you think this is, the Playboy Mansion? He also said nothing unusual happened at the club that night, he already said so to the ‘nosy mother.’”

“If Katrina was upset about being ditched by her friends, she could’ve hit another club, tried to redeem the night. Or she drove home drunk, had some sort of mechanical problem. We just heard she’s impulsive. And she’d stopped making payments on the Mustang. Both of which raise the chance of poor maintenance. For all we know, she simply ran out of gas, got stranded somewhere.”

“Drunk girl, alone late at night, Mr. Moneybags cruises by and says hop in. Or she’s in Hawaii.”

“She guarded her privacy with her mother,” I said, “but her friend worried enough to call Mom.”

“Breaking down on the 405, even late, someone would’ve seen her.”

“With several drinks in her, she could’ve been intimidated by the freeway, chose an alternate route.”

“Or she got totally lost and headed south, Alex. Which could’ve put her in some seriously nasty territory.”

“Why not start with the simplest assumption? When I’m heading north and want to avoid the freeway, I take the Sepulveda Pass. Late at night, once you get north of Sunset, it’s a fast ride, pretty much empty. But that also means breaking down in an isolated area.”

Engine noise sounded from the mouth of the sub-lot. The same valet rolled up in a baby-blue Jaguar sedan, got out and stood by the driver’s door.

Milo walked over to him. “If you insist.”

The valet said, “Huh?”

“I’ll take it in trade if you throw in the extended warranty.”

The valet gaped. Milo got an inch from his face. “Where’s the Crown Vic, friend?”

“I got a call from a resident.”

Milo took out his cell phone. “Want me to call you, too? What’s your number, pal. And while you’re at it, show me some I.D. for an official police investigation.”