Abducted: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller (5 page)

Chapter 8

Tuesday Afternoon and Evening

I'd
gotten back to my office early enough to go to the gym and get in a workout on
the heavy bag before having to leave for Barstow. I felt guilty for taking the
time to go to the gym. I felt like I should have been out looking for Monica.
But I had no idea where to look. I needed the files I’d get later in the
evening. They’d help me find her. But at that moment, the best thing for me to
do was to continue my rehab. Monica would have agreed. My chest was not back to
normal yet, especially the right side, where I'd been shot. It still hurt to
land a hard punch. I was getting some of the speed back, but I didn't have the
power I'd had before. There was still a lot of work to do. Working out felt
good. It took the edge off some of the rage I was struggling to contain. But I
missed Monica not being there to encourage me and joke around while we worked
out.

After
my workout, I took Wilson for a walk and gave him a snack before getting
cleaned up and dressed. The drive to Barstow would be two hours. I told Wilson
I'd see him later. He woofed goodbye and went to his big pillow to chew on his
giant rawhide bone. I was out the door at ten minutes to four.

As
I drove, I thought about the things Alex had said, actually the observations
Susan had made, about my state of mind. She was right. But regardless of how
screwed up I was, finding Monica required that I control my emotions and
maintain my focus. I was a trained investigator. I knew what to do and how to
do it. I needed to generate enough control and professional detachment to get
the job done.

My
introspection and internal dialog was interrupted when my phone rang. My
Wrangler had a Bluetooth system in it so phone calls came through my stereo
system. Hands free. I answered, “Badger.”

“Mr.
Badger, this is Kyle Dell. I visited with my cousin, James.”

“And?”

“He
says he didn't have anything to do with it.”

“You
believe him?” I asked.

“Before
I talked with James, I met with Thrasher and explained the situation. He says
to say hi, by the way, and to tell you that he's a big fan. Anyway, I explained
the situation to him and said I needed him to be sure James was telling me the
truth. So Thrasher met with James before James came to visit with me. Thrasher
put the fear of God into him, man. James was visibly shaken when he talked to
me. Thrasher explained to him that whether he set up the abduction of Ms. Nolan
or not wasn't the issue. The issue was that he
tell
the truth. If he set it up, say so. Tell the truth. Thrasher threatened him. He
told him that he was
gonna
have some people look into
it. If it turned out that James set it up but lied about it, Thrasher would be
around to visit him. When Thrasher comes to
visit
you, you're in trouble, man. So I'm pretty sure that James told me the
truth.”

“So
you believe that James had nothing to do with it,” I said.

“I
do. I believe him. He was pissed at her and he was shooting off his mouth. And
he tried. He talked to me and to one other guy. But I wasn't interested and
neither was the other guy. And beyond someone like me doing him a favor, James
doesn't have enough money or power to get something like that done.”

“Who
was this other guy he asked?”

“Guy
name of Gary. Gary Moller.”

“Know
how I can get hold of Gary Moller?”

“I
figured you'd want to talk to him, so I ran down his contact information.”

“Okay,
hold on a minute.” I pulled off onto the shoulder and turned my flashers on. I
got out a small notebook and a pen.

“Okay,
go ahead.”

Kyle
gave me Moller's cell phone and an address.

“That's
great, Kyle. You did a good job. I appreciate it.”

“No
problem, Mr. Badger. Glad to do it.”

“Please,
Kyle, call me Jake.”

“Oh.
Well, I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Badger, but I'm sorry, I can't do that.
It's a matter of respect.”

I
smiled. “Okay, Kyle. I understand. If you hear anything else about Ms. Nolan's
disappearance, will you call me?”

“You
bet I will.”

I
thanked Kyle again and ended the call. The Moody Blues came back on the stereo.
I thought for a moment about Gary Moller. Kyle had given me his cell phone. I
could call him …
No,
I didn't want to do that. I
needed to watch his eyes as I questioned him. I put a lot of stock into what I
learn from looking into a person's eyes. I'd find and talk to Gary Moller
tomorrow.

Traffic
had snarled on the ten going through Azusa. An accident. I got to the
restaurant right at six. The Idle Spur was going for the eighteen-eighties
western look. I'm not sure how authentic it was, but they managed to create a
nice atmosphere. I saw Vince waiting for me at the bar. I joined him. After we
greeted each other, a waiter asked if we were ready to be seated. We were.
Vince brought a beer with him to our table. After we sat down, Vince asked for
another beer and I ordered a Diet Coke.

“So,
what's the army got you doing out here in the desert?” I asked Vince once the
waiter left.

“Training
snipers.”

“Makes
sense,” I said. “Use an old sniper to train new snipers.”

“Who
you calling old?” he asked, in mock annoyance. Then he shrugged. “You know how
it is. Sometimes what they tell you to do makes sense, sometimes it doesn't.
This is one of the times it happens to make sense. At thirty-four, I’m the
voice of wisdom.”

Our
drinks came and the waiter took our order. We spent some time catching each other
up on things that had happened since we'd talked last. Then he asked about
Monica.

I
gave him a brief overview of how we met and how we occasionally helped each
other out. When I got to the investigation into the FBI mole, I slowed down and
gave him a little more detail. I told him about why I brought Monica into the
investigation and about Jasper Pipestone. I told him about Monica's role in the
FBI investigation and how she had discovered that the mole was Elaine. I
explained about the day she told me the truth about Elaine, and how Monica had
followed me to be sure I was all right. That led to an explanation of Esposito
and Monica killing him after he shot me. I told him how Monica had helped me
with my rehab and how I realized that I loved her. Then I told him about her
abduction.

Vince
listened to the whole story without interrupting. Then he shook his head and
gave a low whistle. “Sounds like a movie plot or a mystery novel or something.
And the ball buster is that at this point you don't know who took her or why.”

I
nodded. “That's the problem,” I said. “I can't find her until I know who took
her and why.”

“Knowing
who,” Vince said, “might help you figure why and where.”

“That's
what I'm hoping.”

Our
salads and bread came. As we ate, he asked me what I'd done so far. I
explained. When our steaks came, we cut into them and enjoyed several bites
before going on with the conversation. I brought him up to date on our visit to
Esposito, Junior, earlier in the day.

“So
this Esposito character is a possibility, but you’re not sure the abduction is
tied to something recent,” Vince said.

“It
doesn't seem to be,” I said.

“And
you think someone she busted in the army may be responsible.”

“It's
at least a possibility,” I said. “We need to go through the files to see if
there's anything worth following up on.”

Vince
nodded. “Well, based on what you told me on the phone, I had Gloria, that’s my
friend in records, pull up the files where Monica was directly involved in an
apprehension, a bust, or an investigation that led to a conviction.”

“That's
where we need to look,” I said. “I hope it wasn't too much trouble for Gloria.”

“When
I told her what happened and what you were up against, she was happy to help. With
the search parameters she has available in the database they've got, it took
her about an hour, printing and all. Wasn't that big a deal.”

We
finished our dinner with small talk and
reminisces
of
our times together in Afghanistan.

The
waiter brought the check. We paid and left a generous tip. In the parking lot,
Vince opened the back of his Explorer. There were six file boxes full of
Monica's case files. I pulled my Wrangler into the empty spot next to Vince's
Explorer and transferred the boxes from his vehicle to mine.

I
thanked Vince. We shook hands, and I headed back toward L.A.

Chapter 9

Tuesday Evening and Wednesday Morning

Once
I was back on the 15 and headed out of Barstow, I called Alex. I told him I had
the files and asked if he had the time to get started on them tonight. I told
him I’d be home around nine thirty. He said he'd be there.

Just
as I was starting down the grade from the high desert, my phone rang.

“Badger,”
I said.

“Jake,
it’s Patty.”

She
was calling early. I understood. “Hi Patty. Has anyone contacted you?”

“No.
Do you have any news?”

She
was trying hard to sound relaxed, but I could hear the strain in her voice.
“Nothing yet,” I said. “We’re still working on trying to figure out who has
her.”

“No
one has contacted you?” she asked.

“No.”

“But
don’t kidnappers usually call or make contact in some way?”

“When
the kidnapping is for ransom, yes. But, like I said, I don’t think this is
about a ransom.”

“Right.
Of course.
You already explained that.”

I
could hear the sadness and fear in her voice. “Patty, I’m scared, too. But
there are a lot of people working on this besides me. The LAPD and the FBI have
people working on this. We’ll find her.”

“I’m
sorry I bothered you, Jake.”

“Don’t
think like that. You’re not bothering me. I understand what you’re going
through. I’m going through it, too. We both love Monica, and not knowing where
or how she is
is
terrifying. But please know that
we’re doing everything we can.”

“Can
we ask what you’re doing?” a male voice asked.

“That’s
Ed,” Patty said. “Monica’s father. He’s on the extension.”

“Of
course you can, Mr. Nolan. You have a right to know.” I spent a couple of
minutes explaining our thinking and what we had done already. When I finished,
I could hear Patty crying.

“Thank
you, Jake,” Mr. Nolan said. “We know you’re doing everything you can.”

“We
are. And you have a right to know what we’re doing. Call me tomorrow night and
we’ll talk again.”

I
got home at nine thirty-five and spent a few minutes greeting Wilson. Alex
arrived at nine forty-five. We spent three hours going through files and came
up with two possibilities. The first, Alex found, was a female officer, a first
lieutenant name Gretchen Petersen, whom Monica had arrested eleven years ago
for dealing drugs. She was convicted and served ten years. A note in the file,
included, no doubt, by Vince’s friend, Gloria, said she had been released one
month ago. I'd have to call Vince and have him thank Gloria for that.

During
Lieutenant Petersen’s trial, she had continuously insisted that the drugs found
in her apartment had been planted and the testimony of the witnesses were lies.
She claimed that she had been raped. The rapist had planted the drugs and had
reported, that same evening, that she had tried to sell him drugs. She insisted
that she was innocent and that her life was being ruined. Monica's
investigation had turned up three witnesses who said that the lieutenant had,
indeed, tried to sell them drugs. As for the rape, it was her word against that
of a Captain Cody Hanks, who had an impeccable record. The lieutenant accused
Monica of being part of a conspiracy against her.

Gretchen
Petersen had been convicted of a felony, spent ten years in prison, and
received a dishonorable discharge. Her life had indeed been ruined and she
believed Monica was part of the whole scheme. If anyone had reason to be angry
with Monica and a good motive for revenge, Gretchen Petersen certainly seemed a
likely candidate.

I
found the second candidate. It was the father of a young man, a private named
Christopher Humphries.
Humphries had been arrested by Monica
for being drunk and disorderly. The private had resisted arrest, taking a punch
at Monica. She had slipped the punch and thrown an over hand right that put the
private on his back. The problem was that when he hit the ground, his head hit
the floor pretty hard. He died a few hours later from traumatic brain injury.
The report made it clear that the fatal injury had not been caused by Monica’s
punch, but by hitting his head on the floor.

Two
other MPs, both males, had been with Monica when they had responded to the
drunk and disorderly call. The other MPs had arrested the other two soldiers.
Monica was in the process of arresting the private when he resisted. The other
two MPs testified that Monica had not used unnecessary force. One of the
soldiers
who had been arrested, also testified that given
Humphries' behavior, Captain Nolan had no choice but to defend herself as she
did.

The
matter had been properly investigated and it was concluded that Captain Nolan
had acted appropriately. But then Mr. Albert Humphries, the private's father,
had accused the army of covering up a wrongful death. He had pursued the matter
in the media and had spent a great deal of money hiring lawyers who promised
results but achieved none. Monica had followed the story because at one point
Mr. Humphries had threatened to right the wrong himself if the army did
nothing.

Alex
looked at the dates in the file. The fifth anniversary of Private Humphries'
death was two days before Monica's abduction. Mr. Humphries would need to be
interviewed.

“We
still have more files to go through,” Alex said. “How about I take them with me
and have a couple of agents go through the rest tomorrow?”

“Sounds
good,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Sure.
Did Dell get back to you?”

I
explained what Kyle Dell had said and told him about Gary Moller.

“So
we've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Looks
like it.” I said. “I'll be there around nine.”

I
helped him carry file boxes out to his Navigator.

Wilson
needed to go out again for a few minutes. It was ten after one when I crawled
into bed.

I
didn’t sleep well. I dreamed about the scene in Esposito’s office, getting shot
and Monica trying to stop the bleeding. Then, in the dream, I was with Monica
in a meadow by a stream. We were walking and holding hands and laughing. Then,
I was in a dark and foreboding forest full of thorns and thistles and a
malevolent presence, and Monica was gone. I was calling out for her. At first,
I could hear her voice. It was nearby. But then it began to recede until it
faded out and was gone. I woke up four times during the night. At five-thirty I
got up and told Wilson it was time for our morning run.

I
was fixing an omelet for breakfast when my cell rang. It was Frank McGarry.

“Morning,
Frank.”

“How
you doing, Jake?”

“As
well as can be expected.”

“Listen,
I just wanted to apologize for not being more involved, not helping more than I
have.”

“Not
necessary, Frank. I understand. You've got a job to do.”

“Four
homicides across my desk since Monica was taken. There's only so much I can
delegate.”

“Frank,
I understand. There's no need for you to apologize.”

“Like
hell there isn't. You're a friend. So is Monica. I need to be more involved.”

“Any
level of help you can offer, Frank, is deeply appreciated. Bringing in
Detective Branch was helpful.”

“Really?
What has she contributed so far?”

“She’s
looking into the Esposito-Pipestone angle.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s
doing what she can, Frank. I appreciate her help.”

“I
cleared my desk last night,” Frank said. “What do you need?”

I
had to think fast. I didn’t actually need anything. Alex could get me whatever
I needed. But Frank wanted to help. “Well,” I said, “I could use an address for
Gary Moller. He was just recently released from Chino Men's.”

“You
got it. What else?”

“I
need to know where I can find Albert Humphries and Gretchen Petersen. Hold on a
minute. Let me get you their socials.” I retrieved their files and read off
their social security numbers.

“So
who are these people?” Frank asked.

I
explained.

“All
right,” Frank said. “Give me a few minutes. I'll get back to you.”

I
had just finished eating my omelet when Frank called back.

“Moller
lives out in Norco.” He gave me the street number. “He's on probation, going to
welding school at a place called Strong Steel.”

I
wrote down the information about the school.

“Petersen
lives in Utah.
Somewhere outside of Provost.
May not
even be a town. Just some place out in the sticks. Her probation file says she
tends bar at a place called Peek-a-Boo.”

“Peek-a-Boo,”
I said.

“Humphries,”
Frank said, “lives in Fontana. Rides with a club called the Marauders. They got
a couple of strip clubs there. One called Pandora's
Box
,
the other one’s called Tops and Bottoms. Probably sell drugs through the clubs.”

“Probably.
Clever names for the clubs, though. Don’t you think?”

“The
Marauders are a rough bunch,” Frank said. “Want some company?”

“Thanks,
Frank. I appreciate that. But Alex is planning on going with me today. I think
we'll be okay.”

“Your
call. If you change your mind, let me know.”

I
thanked him again and clicked off. I showered and dressed: Levis, Kevlar vest,
light blue Oxford button down, shoulder holster, .357 Magnum, tan corduroy
sport jacket. The well dressed private investigator.