those smarmy goody-two-shoes guys who won’t be able to see anything about me except what he thinks is a hopeless cripple. He’ll fall all over himself trying to help me.”
“As long as his help doesn’t include anything more than talking,” Chris said with a laugh. “You may be short an arm and a leg, but I’m guessing you’d still be able to clean his clock.”
Ali fell asleep shortly after that and didn’t wake up again until Chris slowed to exit the freeway. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Headed up Civic Center Drive toward North Las Vegas.”
“Time to call Crystal,” Ali said. “Let me use your phone.”
Chris passed his to the backseat. “When are you going to get your own phone back?”
“Good question,” Ali said.
She put in Crystal’s number, pressed SEND, and was dismayed when a male voice answered.
“Is Crystal there?” Ali asked.
“She’s busy. Who’s asking?”
Ali wasn’t eager to reveal her name. “A friend of hers,” she said.
“Oh, yeah? Call back when you have a name.” With that the man hung up.
Ali pressed REDIAL.
“Do you have a name now?” the same voice asked. He sounded surly and argumentative.
“My name is Alison Reynolds,” Ali said. “I’m a friend of Crystal’s and of her dad’s.”
“Oh,” the man said. “Why didn’t you say so? This is Gary Whitman, Crystal’s stepdad. After what we’ve been through this week, no calls go through this phone without being screened first.”
“Can I talk to her? I’m in town and would like to see her.”
“We’re at soccer practice right now,” Whitman said. “It’ll be over in about an hour. Is Dave with you?”
“No,” Ali said. “Just my son and his girlfriend.”
“Do you want to stop by the house then?” Gary sounded relieved, as though having Dave in tow might have been a problem. “Roxie’s still at work,” he added. “She won’t be home until after five.”
“Do you have our address?” Whitman asked. “We live in Jackpot Dunes. It’s a trailer park just south of Nellis.”
“We’ll find it,” Ali said.
When they found the strip mall location of Back Door Apostles, Ali was a little surprised to see that, on a Saturday afternoon, it was a very busy place. There were several cars in the parking lot and a whole group of teens and preteens hanging around outside a door marked YOUTH MINISTRY.
When Athena started to get out of the car, Chris did, too. “We’ll both go in,” he said. “You can talk to the pastor, if he’s in. I’ll see what else is going on.”
After the better part of an hour, Chris was the first to emerge. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mom. This place is a regular kid magnet. They’ve got everything in there-a pool table, video games, computers, comics. My guess is that Masters uses the place to bring in all kinds of kids, then he finds the most vulnerable one and cuts her from the herd.”
That was Ali’s guess, too.
Athena returned to the Cayenne a few minutes later looking downright radiant. “Got him,” she said triumphantly. “Masters was called out of the room for a couple of minutes. The diploma was still there. I got several pictures of that. I also got photos of his Web-casting equipment and his computer, serial numbers included.”
“That’s my girl,” Chris said. “Where to now?”
“North Las Vegas PD,” Ali said. “We’re believers. Let’s see if we can make believers out of them.”
It was late Saturday afternoon. Josie Gutierrez and Frank Edwards, the two on-duty detectives in the Sexual Assault Unit, were both out in the field. It took some talking on Ali’s part to bring them back in to headquarters, and they weren’t particularly happy about it when they got there.
“What’s this all about?” Detective Gutierrez wanted to know.
“It’s about Crystal Holman,” Ali told them.
“The Amber Alert from this week?”
Ali nodded.
“But I heard she came home yesterday,” Detective Edwards said. “I thought everything was fine.”
Ali handed Edwards the CD Chris had made. “Take a look at these files,” she said, “then you tell us if everything’s fine.”
The two officers disappeared into the bowels of the building. A few minutes later, a grim-faced Detective Gutierrez returned. “You’d better come with me,” she said. “We have a few questions. Who the hell is this asshole? Where was the video shot? Who did the enhancement? And who the hell are you? In reverse order.”
Initially, Detective Gutierrez took the same position Larry Marsh had-that civilian involvement was a no-no. As far as she was concerned, Athena should never have entered Masters’s office because it was far too dangerous, and she and Detective Edwards alone should be the ones to interview Crystal and her family.
“Look,” Ali said. “You wouldn’t have a clue about any of this if it weren’t for us. I’ve been through a hell of a lot with Crystal Holman in the last few days, and I think I have some credibility with her. And with Roxie, too,” she added.
“You know the mother?” Gutierrez asked.
“She came to see me in Sedona just yesterday afternoon,” Ali said, choosing to edit out the exact nature of that visit.
The detective turned to her partner. “What do you think, Frank?”
Edwards shook his head. “With kids it can go either way,” he said.
“Chris and Athena don’t have to go,” Ali added, “but if you don’t take me, I’m prepared to show up on my own-with or without your permission.”
The detectives finally relented. They drove in a two-car caravan with the two officers leading the way. When they arrived at the Jackpot Dune’s Mobile Home Park in North Las Vegas, the place was every bit as desolate, grim, and uninviting as Ali expected. It reminded Ali of that old Roger Miller song lyric, “No phone, no pool, no pets.” She was surprised they even allowed children. No wonder Crystal hated it.
While Chris and Athena stayed in the car, Detective Gutierrez led the way up the obviously new wooden steps and knocked on the mobile home’s metal door. When Roxanne Whitman opened it, though, she ignored the police officers and looked straight at Ali.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Has something happened to Dave?”
“It’s about Crystal,” Ali said. “We need to talk to her.”
“She’s in the shower, but tell me. What’s wrong?”
A tall man appeared beyond Roxanne’s shoulder just as Detective Gutierrez held up her badge. “What is it, Roxie? What’s going on? Why are the cops here?”
“Do you mind if we come in?” Detective Gutierrez asked.
Shrugging, Roxie and Gary Whitman stepped aside and let the two cops and Ali enter their small but spotless living room.
“You still haven’t said what this is about,” Gary said, once they were all seated.
“Do you happen to know someone named Richard Masters?”
“Of course, I know Pastor Masters,” Gary Whitman said, answering for both of them. “He’s the youth minister at our church. He’s a great guy, and great with kids.”
“Has Crystal had any interactions with him?” Detective Gutierrez asked.
“Yes,” Gary said. “Definitely. When she started having difficulties at school, we sent her to him for counseling.”
“And did the counseling sessions seem to help?”
“Well, no,” Gary admitted. “Not really. Things have been getting worse instead of better. But she’s a teenager. You know how they can be.”
“Did she indicate whether or not she was happy with the sessions?”
“She did say she didn’t want to go anymore,” Roxanne pointed out. “She said that a couple of weeks ago.”
