“Are you sure?” she asked and this time there was a little tremor of something that sounded almost like fear in her voice.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure. He’s a nice guy working for a good cause, it’s just that I want to make sure he’s what he really portends to be. That’s all.”
Another dramatic pause. I was about to say something about all the pausing when she spoke.
“Well, even so, it’s not easy to get inside info on guys that high ranking. The Secret Service have them bugged ten ways to Sunday and any type of checking up on them is flagged and cataloged instantly for threat assessment and action needed to be taken. I mean it, Gil, I’m talking social media, phone calls, even campaign contributors. They check out everything.”
“I’m sure they do,” I said. “But then they have never run up against the likes of Sarah Gallagher.”
She sighed. “Okay. Knowing how things turn out with you I’ll probably get tagged as an international spy and locked away in an underground gulag for the rest of my life, but for you, okay.”
“If you do,” I said, “I’ll break you out.”
“You would, wouldn’t you.”
“You better believe it.”
“I do,” she said, and there was no teasing in her voice this time. “Send me whatever you have and I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“Thanks, Sarah.”
“I really am free tonight,” she said.
“No you’re not,” I said, “you have research to do.”
We said our goodbyes and I clicked off.
I plugged the flash drive into my laptop and searched through the files till I found the surveillance video from Walmart. The feed streamed and I saw a giant of a man walking next to a little girl. Keisha wore a pretty dress with ruffles around the hem. A faux emerald neckless circa the Disney movie Moana dangled against her throat held by a leather thong with sea shells. Pink jelly shoes and matching pink socks completed the outfit.
Jerome was dressed in more traditional Walmart attire, gray sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt with a breast pocket. The sleeves of the tee were hard pressed to contain the massive shoulders and biceps. The man was huge. Maybe not as giant as the Mountain, but so close it might take a photo finish to decide.
The camera feed caught them in several sections of the store. They bought toilet paper, a can of Fix-A-Flat, lunch meat, bread, noodles and jars of spaghetti sauce, along with a Frozen coloring book and a box of 64 Crayola Crayons, the one with the sharpener at the bottom of the box.
I paid special attention at the checkout, but Jerome paid in cash, so no luck on a possible credit card check. I suppose if it were going to be that easy, the Senator wouldn’t have had to hire me.
Keisha seemed happy and perfectly healthy. No sign of abuse, outwardly or inwardly. Of course kids are resilient and you can never be sure they aren’t being harmed just by viewing a few seconds of random video.
The last shot of the duo caught them leaving the parking lot on foot and heading north along Chambers Road.
Hmm. Because they didn’t have a car? Or is Jerome one smart cookie who knows better than to let his license plate get caught on camera?
A man that big stands out. It wouldn’t be easy to stay on the lam for as long as he has, especially with a child in tow. My bet landed on him being smart. Too bad. We have a saying in law enforcement; we only catch the stupid ones. It’s not true of course, just an exaggeration, but that’s kind of the point. Catching the stupid ones is the norm. The really smart or crafty ones are a lot harder. Oh well, that’s why they pay me the big bucks.
I went back over the video five more times.
My watch read thirteen-thirty, that’s one-thirty pm for non-military types. I called a friend of mine who’s a homicide sergeant with Aurora Police. He picked up on the first ring.
“Gil Mason,” he said cheerily.
“I know I am,” I said, “but who are you?”
“Get your white butt over here, gyrene. We’re having a barbecue and there’s enough food to feed a platoon.”
Jared Darling used to be a K9 handler back in the day and we worked in congruent jurisdictions for a lot of years. He looks like Eddie Murphy as the Nutty Professor, only bigger. He’s pushing close to four hundred pounds. His dog Aspen was a star. He’s the shepherd that tracked down The Longmont Ripper and did some serious ripping of his own. Aspen took a bullet, saving Jared one dark night, and a few hours later died in surgery. Jared’s never really gotten over it.
Can’t say I blame him.
“I wish I could,” I said, “but a case just came in and I need some help.”
“What you got?”
“Kidnapping case out of Chicago. A little girl. She and her abductor were spotted at the Chambers Walmart a few days ago.”
“The Chambers Walmart in my city?”
“Is there another?”
“Tell me everything.”
“I wish I could. The feds are involved and most of what I have is on a need to know basis, so I can’t give you much.”
“What do you need and how can I help?” he asked. Jared and Lori have a passel of kids. I could tell from his voice the thought of a kidnapped little girl got his blood boiling.
“I need a listing for every car stopped, cited, or checked in your city over a three day period of time.”
He paused before answering. “That’s a lot of cars. Are you talking just traffic violations?”
“No,” I said, “everything. Suspicious, welfare checks, citizen assists, traffic, anything and everything.”
“Alright, I’ll have my boys run the data, but you are going to have a lot of sifting to do. If you could give me an idea of what you’re checking for, maybe I could have them narrow it down.”
That’s exactly what I
