Лиза Гарднер - Before She Disappeared

I lean closer. “So, not forged visas, which is nearly impossible, but creating supporting documents from a nonexistent entity to apply for real visas.” I remember what Emmanuel had said about his sister, her drive to take additional courses online so that she could graduate from high school early and get into college as soon as possible. Which would earn her a student visa and secure her place in this country.

“Charlie, what about student visas? A fake college, to issue fake student visas?”

“Could be.”

“Wouldn’t someone notice? Aren’t there checks and balances for that kind of thing?”

Charlie shrugs. “Fake company eventually got shut down, but not before earning millions. System’s only as good as the time and energy the bureaucrats have to police it. If a cursory check shows that company or that college exists, who really has time to dig deeper? Not to mention, I hear rumors of kids entering with genuine J-1s from genuine schools. Once they’re in the country, however, who pays attention to where they go and what they do?”

“But their visas expire.”

“Which is an issue if they leave and reenter the country. But what if they stick around—say, with a new driver’s license?”

I get goose bumps then. What would be worth more money than fake IDs? What would be worth kidnapping two enterprising teen girls and holding them hostage? How about setting up a system to generate real student visas? I can even see Angelique’s personal interest in taking on such a project, given her immigration status, and her brother’s. Maybe that had made it sound like a good idea . . . before it wasn’t.

Had Livia involved Deke on her own, or had he approached her? I’m not sure it mattered. Deke, with his criminal partnerships, must’ve taken over the enterprise and run with it. Forcing his half sister and Angelique to work for them. Given the girls’ aptitudes in computer programming and design, this little enterprise could’ve gone on and on, growing in scope and size. From a fake college for student visas to a fake corporation for work visas, such as Charlie described. That revenue potential would be through the roof. Definitely worth the risk of holding two girls captive.

Except Livia was now dead.

Because having produced the templates, she wasn’t needed anymore? Or the stress of the situation had made her too unreliable? And what did her death mean for Angelique? Poor, problem-solving Angelique, desperately leaving us breadcrumbs, doing everything in her power to lead us to them.

Then late last night, climbing into a van to help dispose of her friend’s body.

Knowing none of her plans had been good enough.

Knowing she would be next.

“Thank you, Charlie.” I glance at my watch. Eight p.m. Way too early to be cutting out of work. But I don’t have a choice. There’s no way I can stand here, slinging drinks. Not with so much at stake. I need to move. I need to do. I hope Stoney will understand.

I untie the apron from around my waist. Charlie stands up at the bar.

“Where are you headed?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Maybe the BPD field office to have it out with Lotham. Or . . . “I’m going to head to the rec center.”

“This time of night?”

“It all started there. And all roads keep leading back there. I can’t put my finger on it, but that’s the place to be.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

I don’t argue. A hulking bodyguard is not a bad idea at all. Which leaves me one last task. I bolt back to Stoney’s office, where he’s pecking away at his ancient computer.

“Bye,” he says, without looking up.

“I have a lead.”

“Bye.”

“I’ll be back, I’m so sorry.”

Stoney finally glances at me. “Go,” he says.

So I do, Charlie in tow. We’ve barely stepped outside the bar when my phone rings. It’s Emmanuel and the boy sounds hysterical.

CHAPTER 35

LiLi,” Emmanuel is gasping. “She just called. I heard screaming. She was screaming. ‘No, no, no.’ Then, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ But not to me, like she was talking to someone else. I think she had the phone tucked away, where they couldn’t see it. But then there was this huge boom . I didn’t understand. I started yelling her name. She came back, speaking right to me. She said, ‘I love you.’ Then the phone went dead. What is happening? Frankie, what is happening? ”

“Did you try calling back?”

“I couldn’t. The number is blocked.”

“What about the cell number you found on the receipt?”

“Nothing. I don’t think it’s turned on.”

“Okay, we’re headed toward you right now. Give me ten minutes, I’ll be there.”

“Where is my sister!”

“I’m working on it. I swear to you—”

“ You are lying! You don’t know anything. You’re lying!”

“Emmanuel! Listen to me! Your sister needs you. The license number code. Think. Where are you with the license code?”

“All I got was another string of numbers. Maybe a code within a code? I’m still working on it.”

“Give me what you got, right now.”

He starts rattling off numbers. I repeat each one out loud. Charlie reaches into his massive coat, pulls out a pen, and writes the string of numbers across the palm of his hand, as if we’d been working together for years.

“Stay where you are,” I order Emmanuel. “Keep your phone on. If she calls again, do everything you can to keep the connection, okay? Maybe the police can trace it. I’ll call Detective Lotham, right now.”

I hang up with Emmanuel, dial Lotham. Charlie doesn’t say a word, just keeps on trucking beside me as I strike a furious pace toward the Badeaus’ apartment.

Lotham doesn’t answer till the fourth ring. “Not now—”

“Emmanuel just called me. LiLi phoned him five minutes ago. Screaming for help, call disconnected, number’s blocked. He can’t call back.”

“Shit.”

“Charlie and I are headed there right now.”

“No! I’m sending uniforms. Go home. Right now, Frankie. I mean it.”

“Not to sound childish, but you are not the boss of me.”

“Goddammit!” Deep breath. He’s clearly struggling for control, but I could give a flying fuck. This is my case, and I’m not backing off.

“Frankie, I’m outside the Samdi residence. He’s dead.”

I falter, miss a step, glancing up at Charlie. “Who’s dead?”

“J.J. Samdi. Gunned down. Probably in the last thirty minutes.”

“The website,” I whisper.

“What the fuck, Frankie?”

“That was the last project. The final piece of the puzzle. They needed the girls to finish the virtual college so they could graduate from fake IDs to fake documents for real student visas. Now that everything is in place and online, they’re cleaning up shop. Deke Alarie is cleaning up shop.”

“Go home.”

“Angelique’s family could be in danger as well.”

“Which is why officers are on the way.”

“Good, we’ll meet them there.”

I disconnect the call, turn to Charlie, who’s clearly heard every word.

“How do you feel about running?” I ask him.

“Knees don’t love it, but given the circumstances . . .”

We both take off down the sidewalk.

—

We hit the final block where Emmanuel and his aunt live and I register two things at once. The sound of distant sirens. And the wailing of a nearby woman.

“They took him,” Guerline screams the second she sees me. “They took Emmanuel!”

“Who, where?”

“Some man. I came downstairs to fetch Emmanuel. This white van pulled up in the middle of the street and a man jumped out. He had a gun. He pointed it at Emmanuel and told him to get in before anyone got hurt. I tried to grab Emmanuel’s arm. I tried to stop him. But then the man . . . He leapt up the steps and smashed Emmanuel over the head with his gun. My boy . . . He collapsed. And blood, so much blood. I started screaming at him to stop, but the man just looked at me. Then he put Emmanuel on his shoulder and threw him into the van.