Cindy was on top of things. “I called the real estate editor at theChronicle. He’s a good dude. I think we’ve identified the house Jason was describing. The editor says that it’s currently a rental, and according to his digging, it’s being leased by some kind of talent coordinator for a modeling agency. A realtor friend of his said that the deal was all very hush-hush.”
I wanted to kiss Cindy. This was more information than I could’ve retrieved with a warrant and three days of work. I looked over to Sergeant Davis. “This was your case originally, and still is yours. Do you want to come to San Francisco with us? Who knows where it’ll lead.”
She flashed a smile. “I appreciate your consideration. I have my hands full at the moment, so I’m perfectly happy to sit this one out.But if what you find might help me locate the other two young women missing from San Julio—Katie Dharma and Carly Nash—please loop me in. They may just turn out to be runaways after all, but…”
“I most certainly will let you know what we find out.”
In truth, she was smart to sidestep this. I had an idea that what was going to happen would be messy.
CHAPTER97
I SAT INthe passenger seat of Cindy’s car and pretty much handled issues on the phone nonstop during the hour-long drive back into San Francisco. This was far and away my best use of time in the last week. Even if it was my own time, since I was still on suspension. That didn’t keep me from calling Jackson Brady and explaining to him everything that had happened.
A lot of bosses would’ve started yelling at me. They’d be asking why I was doing police work while I was suspended. They’d be asking me little details, like did I drive my city car while suspended, did I carry my duty weapon while suspended? What those questions usually amounted to was ammo for some serious discipline.
Brady didn’t ask any questions. He listened to what had happened. He took a few moments to make some notes. When I was finished, he simply said, “Sounds like good work. Come on into the office. I’ll get us some help.”
Once we arrived at the Hall of Justice, I dragged Cindy with me up to our office. Normally, cops would be apprehensive with areporter in their squad room. Not on our squad. They’d all read her articles and never shut up about how accurate and evenhanded she was. Everyone here knew Cindy. Everyone loved her. Hey, Conklin even married her.
Almost as soon as we walked in the door, Brady looked at me and said matter-of-factly, “Suspension’s over.”
“How is that possible?”
Brady shrugged. “Easy. Just a phone call.”
That answer perplexed me. “Why didn’t you make that call yesterday?”
Now Brady turned and faced me head-on. His broad shoulders blocked my view of the rest of the squad. “Because you needed a break. You were on the edge. If I’d sent you home on my own, you would’ve resented it and me for the next decade. I thought this was an efficient way to give you a few days to unwind. Obviously, I was wrong. I should’ve known better.”
Cindy joined the group already gathering in the conference room. Most of the squad fit in there. The conference room had some real space to it. About twenty matching wooden chairs lined the walls. The wood veneer conference table had six chairs on either side and one at each end.
An analyst came over and handed me a file. She shook her head and said, “I don’t think we’ve found your Kyle Anderson yet. He might be using an alias. There are a few guys named Kyle Anderson in the city, but two of the ones we’ve found are in their eighties, and one is a young Black guy.”
“So, what’s in the file?”
“Everything I could find on the address in Pacific Heights. We have the information ready for a search warrant. We just need to add your narrative.”
Brady got everyone’s attention. It wasn’t hard when you were his size.
After I brought everyone up to speed, we brainstormed about how to enter the house.
Brady said, “Our number-one concern is the safety of any girls who might be there. We can’t just rush up the driveway with a battering ram.”
That’s when Rich Conklin, sitting next to Cindy, sat up and said, “I know how we can do it.”
CHAPTER98
LIZZIE NUNEZ WASlosing any hope of finding the tall, handsome man with dark hair. She sat on a set of stained concrete stairs that led to an old apartment building. Somehow there was a different type of garbage on each step. Some old burger wrappers on the first step. What looked like the contents of an ancient backpack had been dumped on the third step. She didn’t even want to contemplate what was on the end of the step where she was sitting. Among the pile of refuse were two pieces of used toilet paper. It made Lizzie shudder.
How had she fallen so far? Lizzie thought back to just a couple of years ago. She was the homecoming queen at her high school. Now she was desperate to find a man who was essentially going to prostitute her out. But hunger and fear were huge motivators. She wasn’t about to spend another night in a shelter.
There was at least an hour until sundown. She was giving herself two hours to find her man. If he wasn’t here by dusk, she’d make a new plan. She’d spent enough time trying to find this guy.
Lizzie sat on the step with her legs pulled in close to her chest.She was wearing the yellow sundress the shelter had given her with the jean jacket she’d found the day before. She nodded hello to a couple of young men who stopped and tried to flirt. But Lizzie wasn’t really in the mood.
She stood up to take a walk around the neighborhood. She intended to swing past the Garden Spot. Maybe she’d get lucky.
Then Lizzie glanced toward the traffic, waiting for a stoplight to turn. Right in front of her, not twenty feet away, was a white SUV. She said out loud, “It can’t be.” Through the passenger window, she could clearly see the driver. It was him!
