Evil Without a Face (10 page)

“Not if you haven’t done anything wrong, but you gotta help me out here.” Stalworth softened his tone. Switching from bad cop to good, the trooper leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. A look of sympathy replaced his stern authoritative expression.

“Look, Nikki’s mother is worried sick. We just want to get to the bottom of this and bring the girl home safely. Maybe you can help us.”

“I swear, that’s all I was doing, trying to help.” Claire Hanson began to cry. Red blotches spread across her cheeks and she swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Oh God, I didn’t mean to…I thought I was helping.”

“Who were you trying to help, ma’am? You don’t look like the kind of woman who’d take the word of a kid without first checking with a parent.”

Payton stepped closer to the observation window, hands in his pockets. Claire Hanson hadn’t denied taking Nikki, but he still couldn’t imagine why.

“He told me about this girl, an abused kid. He never told me her name, to protect her identity, he said. But she needed help to get out of a bad situation.”

“Who is this guy you talked to?” Stalworth handed the woman a tissue from a box on a nearby shelf. “You better tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

Claire Hanson told the trooper about meeting Mark Russo in a chatroom, a support group for grieving parents. Claire had searched for solace of any kind after the death of her only daughter, Tami, in a car accident at the hands of a drunk driver. At first she only knew Mark as a member of
the group. But after she’d gotten the courage to confide the depths of her grief, Mark singled her out for one-on-one chats. He’d also lost a daughter to violence, and his wife eventually divorced him when he grew so depressed that he wasn’t able to deal with his emotions. He finally found his road to recovery through a program that allowed him to reach out to others. A “no questions asked” hotline for troubled teens. Mark shared his story of healing, making her feel special that he had chosen her to confide his very personal journey.

Hearing Claire’s story gave Payton a thread of hope. As the teacher continued to tell her side, he turned to Trooper Fitzgerald and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Maybe Nikki misrepresented her situation, exaggerated her side in order to get someone to help her leave the state. She might’ve connected with Mark Russo through that teen hotline.”

Payton knew he was grasping at straws. Nikki wasn’t the type of kid who would do such a thing—to use a stranger to get what she wanted. But believing his niece was in control gave him hope that Mark Russo was legit.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but don’t delude yourself. I think you have to be prepared that Russo might not be his real name.” Fitzgerald prepped him for the worst. “Online predators have gotten sophisticated in how they hunt on the Internet. They’re master manipulators and find other people to do their dirty work. Makes it harder to prove their guilt in a court of law.”

Fitzgerald stared at the woman in the next room. “It’ll be up to the D.A. to decide if he’s gonna press charges against this schoolteacher, but my gut tells me Claire Hanson is a victim too.”

“What are you talking about?” Payton asked.

“We’ll check into Mark Russo, but I got a feeling we’re gonna be looking for a ghost. An online predator creates a persona and a back story that no one questions until it’s too
late. And this guy can change his name and move on. Even if we track the real person down, he or she may live in a foreign country, making it nearly impossible to trace. The Internet breaks down international barriers, which can be a good thing. But in the wrong hands, it can erect walls for criminals to hide behind. If a predator is smart, the Internet is a perfect hunting ground.”

In the next room, Payton heard Claire Hanson say, “Mark had me buy a one-way ticket to Chicago for some poor girl he’d been trying to help. She lived in Alaska, he said. I didn’t say yes right away, but he eventually convinced me I was her only hope. I made the reservations under my daughter’s name and used her ID, paying for it with my own money. Her flight left a little after five this morning.”

The woman glanced at her watch and shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath before she went on.

“The girl said the man had told her what to do once the plane landed. I assumed she meant Mark, but thinking back, I guess she never mentioned a name.” The teacher wiped her eyes and sobbed, dabbing at her cheeks with the tissue Stalworth had given her. “I tried to get her to talk to me during the ride from Talkeenta, but she refused. She looked so lost, it broke my heart. And she looked so much like my…my little girl.”

“Oh my God, Chicago?” Payton looked over his shoulder at Joe. “We gotta stop that plane. When does it touch down? It’s gonna take time to get the Chicago PD involved. We gotta call now.”

Fitzgerald checked his watch, but the look in his eyes confirmed what Payton already feared. It was probably too late.

“I’ll call the airline…just in case. But don’t get your hopes up.” The trooper left the room, leaving Payton alone with his desperation.

Joe Tanu stepped closer and gripped the back of Payton’s neck. In the darkened room, his friend spoke quietly, trying to reassure him.

“We’re gonna find her.”

Payton kept his eyes on Claire Hanson, staring through the two-way mirror as he spoke.

“Nikki flew to Chicago, Joe, one of the largest cities in the U.S. and a major hub for the airlines. Hell, if the plane’s already landed, she could catch another flight anywhere.” He shook his head. “This all happened too damned fast. I don’t even know what to tell Susannah.”

“Tell her Chicago is beautiful this time of year. And that we’re not leaving Nikki in the hands of some overworked cop in downtown Chicago. No, sir.”

Payton caught the glimmer in Joe’s eyes, a hint of the cop he used to be. For his friend’s sake, he forced himself to smile.

“You’re right. We’re not playing against a clock that’s gonna run down. Nikki’s still out there and she needs our help.” Payton kept up his show of optimism. “We’re not waiting for a commercial flight either. If Fitzgerald tells us Nikki’s plane has already landed in Chicago, then we better have a backup plan. I’ve got money and the connections to get us there fast.”

“Now you’re talking.” Joe smiled. A real smile. “You still have those pages from Nikki’s computer? I’d like to see if Fitz can analyze them for us. Maybe Nikki and her friend left a cyber trail we can follow. We can attack this from another angle.”

Payton reached for the pages in his shirt pocket and handed them to Joe, thankful his friend had kept a clear enough head to remember the printouts. After Joe left the room, Payton stood alone in the shadows and watched Claire Hanson, suddenly seeing her in a different light.

Gone was the demon he had imagined before. Now, all that remained was a timid, frightened woman caught up in something she didn’t understand. He wanted to hate her for what she did, but pity was all he felt. Because of her grief, she might have been duped into becoming a pawn in a bigger
game. But if a guy using a phony name in a chat room had manipulated her in such a heinous way, Nikki might be in the hands of a very dangerous predator.

An old sensation returned, hitting him hard.

From the moment he first saw Claire Hanson, something about the woman had given him a bad feeling. He hadn’t understood why until now. If this woman had no idea what happened to Nikki—and if her story turned out to be a complete lie conjured by a practiced online predator who knew how to cover his tracks—then Claire Hanson would be a dead end.

A damned dead end!

Wishful thinking would do no good. No matter how fast they got to Chicago, the trail would be cold.

Chicago O’Hare Airport

The plane had arrived ten minutes early with the help of a good tail wind. Nikki navigated a smaller concourse, following the signs for the main terminal and baggage claim. Outside, Ivana Noskova would be waiting with her father in a car her friend had described. If they weren’t there, Ivana had given her a backup plan that Nikki hoped she wouldn’t have to use.

She desperately wanted this to work right the first time, without a hitch.

Walking at her own pace, she nibbled absentmindedly at her lower lip and played with the zipper of her fanny pack. She had a feeling that once she was truly on her own, she’d discover many things about herself, not the least of which would be her preference for freedom in smaller doses. Meeting Ivana would go a long way toward making her feel more comfortable in a town as big as Chicago.

She had been through O’Hare a handful of times, but never without her mother. And call it stubborn pride, but she didn’t want to admit that her newfound independence might turn out to be a double-edged sword. Both fear and exhilaration played a part in making her edgy.

Shake it off, Nik. You’re not a kid anymore.

PA announcements overhead mixed with snips of conversations from passengers carrying rolling luggage. The place was huge and crowded. She felt invisible, and cocooned in a time warp that made her feel like she was standing still. Everyone else had someplace real to be. People darted by her with tight connections to make. Others stopped in her path to check computer monitors. She was an amateur at all this, and it showed.

But one thing might get her out of her weird funk. Eating.

She thought about grabbing a quick bite. The smell of french fries, cinnamon buns, and pizza by the slice tempted her, for sure. Whenever she got nervous, she had a tendency to eat junk, but she didn’t want to keep Ivana and her father waiting. She’d promised not to draw attention to herself, but there was one stop she had to make before getting her bag.

A pit stop.

Nikki hit the public restroom and took care of business. But when she was done, a dark-skinned woman in a navy janitor’s uniform, hardly more than a girl, caught her eye. She was cleaning one of the stalls. Nikki saw her in the mirror as she washed her hands, and she tried to smile, but the woman only stared through her, her eyes dull and vacant. Hard to tell her age, but she didn’t look that much older than her. Nikki tried not to stare but couldn’t help it. The woman was too young to give up on the rest of her life. And what about dreams? Did she ever have any?

How did people let these things happen? she wondered.

She watched the woman work for a while longer, until an odd sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. The girl suddenly made her feel uncomfortable and anxious. She didn’t understand why she felt this way. It wasn’t like she was alone with her. Other people had been there, and the cleaning woman posed no threat. Yet something came over her that was palpable and strong. All she knew was that she couldn’t
stay any longer. She rushed from the restroom, heading for baggage claim and Ivana.

As she walked, Nikki picked up her pace with one thought repeating over and over in her head. She’d done the right thing by coming here, damn it. She had dreams and a new life to start. And she wouldn’t let anything stand in her way.

Nothing.

Outside baggage claim, the passenger pickup lanes were swarming with activity. He’d counted on the buzz to blend in. People were coming and going. Skycaps were hauling bags on wheel carts, dodging traffic. And a taxi wrangler whistled and waved a cab up from the waiting line to drive a suit downtown to an overpriced hotel. That’s what he figured anyway.

He knew fresh meat when he saw it. They all looked clueless, and he could spot easy pickings a mile off. The instinct was hard to kick, but he had a new gig now. And it sure beat hustling for chump change.

Alert, the man kept his eyes on the rearview mirror and out his windshield, looking for a face he’d committed to memory. When he found what he was looking for, he smirked, then keyed a speed dial number on his cell phone. His call was answered on the third ring.

“Yeah, you got somethin’ for me?” A low guttural voice with a Russian accent came on the line.

“She’s definitely a looker.” He narrowed his eyes. A girl craned her neck, looking down the row of waiting vehicles. When she spotted his car, the kid headed toward him.

Bingo.

Speaking into his phone, he added, “With any luck, we’ll have options with this one.”

He looked right, expecting the sullen girl sitting next to him in the front seat to move, but she didn’t.

“Hey, hold on a sec.” He put a hand over the phone, glaring at the girl beside him.

Still the bitch didn’t move. She picked at strands of her thin brown hair, tugging at split ends. Sometimes she could get under his skin, like now. He poked her scrawny arm with a knuckle and barked an order.

“Hey, go make nice. You know what to do. Get her into the car, both of you in the backseat. Once we get her home, I wanna see that fanny pack. And she better not have a cell phone.”

Ivana shifted her attention to him, her dark green eyes the color of dull moss with the luster gone. And her skin looked blotchy from too much makeup, her attempt to cover acne scars.

“No problem. Jus’ remember, I do this thing for you. I help you, yes?” Sometimes Ivana slathered on the Russian accent like it was butter. It used to turn him on.

“Yeah, yeah. Now get goin’.”

She got out of the vehicle without saying another word, returning his stare over her shoulder. Once outside, she perked up for the performance and waved to the new one, calling her over. The girls hugged. It gave him time to finish his call.

“I got appointments for her tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe if we get lucky, I’ll be sending her to you real soon. Kind of a shame she may’ve come all this way, but you know the drill. I’ll give you a heads-up when I can.”

He ended the call and got out of the car, forcing himself to grin at the kid, real friendly.

“Hey, Nikki. Welcome to Chicago. I’m Ivana’s father. Lemme take your bag.”

She smiled and handed over all her possessions. Real trusting. They all had fresh young faces that he never got tired of seeing.

“Thanks, Mr. Noskova. I really appreciate—”

He didn’t let her finish.

“My name’s not—” He stopped and stared at the girl. He could have corrected her, but it didn’t matter what she called him. “Just call me Mike.”

The new girl narrowed her eyes and gave him a questioning look. Before she could ask anything, he took her duffel and placed it in the trunk.

“You girls go ahead and get in the backseat. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to talk about.” He smiled again and waved them off. “Go ahead. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so get comfortable.”

He shoved her bag into the trunk of his car and closed it. When he got into the driver’s seat, he heard the kid talking to Ivana. Looking in the rearview mirror, he watched for traffic to clear, but the new girl did a better job at holding his interest.

“I’ve never lived anyplace as big as this.” Nikki struck up a conversation with her friend, but the whole thing felt awkward with her father listening. And she caught the man snatching glimpses in the mirror.

“You like livin’ here, right, Ivana?” she persisted.

Her friend looked at her and forced a smile. “Yes. You will see.”

As Ivana’s dad pulled from the curb and into traffic, Ivana crossed her arms and turned away, gazing out the window.

“So are you excited about tomorrow?” Nikki tried again to make conversation.

“Yes, it will be good day,” the girl replied.

Nikki was so anxious to talk about tomorrow that her friend’s indifference didn’t register at first. Mr. Noskova had pulled strings to get them both an appointment with a prestigious Chicago modeling agency, one with connections to New York. Apparently, they had liked a photo posted on her blog. And they wanted to see Ivana too.

Ivana’s dad merged into freeway traffic, taking Interstate
190E, then south on 294. The road signs flew by, not catching her attention. Her focus was entirely on what tomorrow would bring.

“I hear if they like you, they take head shots…with a real fashion photographer. I’ve never done anything like that. Do you think someone will be there to help us with makeup? ’Cause that would be so cool, you know?”

She was talking a mile a minute now—excited to finally share her dream—but Ivana only stared back, barely nodding or shaking her head in reply. An unreadable face with vacant eyes. Her reaction caught Nikki by surprise.

A cold slap of déjà vu.

In her friend’s apathetic eyes she found remnants of another face—the cleaning woman—the one she thought looked defeated and used up. But before she could ask Ivana what was wrong, Mr. Noskova interrupted.

“Tomorrow is a big day for you girls. I got a feeling it’s gonna change your lives.”

He stared at Nikki through the mirror again. Although she heard a smile in his voice, the man wasn’t what she expected.

But then, neither was Ivana.

Talkeetna, Alaska
Hours later

While in Anchorage, Payton had arranged for a private charter to make the trip to Chicago later that evening, but he couldn’t leave without first seeing Susannah and explaining what had happened with the schoolteacher, Claire Hanson. Once he got home, he’d have just enough time to pack, see his sister, and pick up Joe on his way to the Talkeetna airport. He’d arranged for the charter to meet them at the small local airstrip, saving him a trip back to Anchorage by car.

When he walked through his front door, he gazed at the mess he’d left behind, remnants of his self-indulgence. A life without consequence.

“You’re a piece of work, Archer,” he mumbled to himself.

He tossed his truck keys on a kitchen counter next to a half-empty bottle of Macallan scotch and noticed the red blinking light from his answering machine. His first thought was that the message might be from Susannah. Without hesitation, he punched the button to hear it.

With garbled noise in the background, it took a while for a voice to come on the line.

“Uncle Payton…I love you.”

The faint voice of his niece caught him by surprise.

Knowing how she’d left town, he recognized the background noise as the Anchorage airport, with part of a flight announcement recorded. He checked the time stamp for Nikki’s call and a cold fist of sadness gripped his heart.

She’d called when he was out drinking. If he’d been home, would things have turned out differently? Had this been her attempt to reach out one last time? Anger and frustration surged under his skin.

“And you picked me, Nikki. God help you.”

He grabbed for the bottle of scotch, not bothering with a glass, and took a long pull. It burned his throat all the way down, the heat swelling through his chest and belly. Gasping, he came up for air and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Guilt closed in without mercy.

Until now, he thought he’d only done harm to himself with the choices he’d made, but that wasn’t true. He’d cut himself off from the people he loved, and there had been consequences.

How would he face Susannah?

Chicago
Early evening

From Seth’s place, Jess drove to a library on the way to her apartment to access the Internet. Her home computer had been a casualty of Baker’s deranged payback.

She checked into flights leaving Anchorage bound for Chicago that day. Several carriers fit the bill, with destinations to Chicago’s O’Hare, Midway, and Rockford airports. If Baker had a kid booked on an inbound flight from Alaska, most arrivals had already touched down. And the odds weren’t in her favor for the few remaining flights. Even if she picked the right airport, she couldn’t be in two places at once. She and Madame Luck had parted company in a big way.

“Shit.”

She wasn’t sure why she tortured herself with the flight information. It wasn’t like she could do anything. Even if she narrowed the search, she was only playing a hunch about Baker and his so-called Alaskan delivery to Chicago being an unfortunate kid.

More than likely her diversion to the library had been nothing more than procrastination, pure and simple. The wasteland of her apartment awaited her attention.

“Let’s get it over with.” She left the library and drove home to suffer the indignities of a full-blown pity party. Once and for all, she had to face clean-up duty, deal with it and get on with her life.

Back at her place, Jess worked for another couple of hours, filling the apartment complex Dumpster with the remnants of her life. It pained her to do it, and little remained after Baker’s rampage. Her apartment almost echoed with emptiness. She never had much, but until now hadn’t appreciated her mixed bag of furnishings and a lifetime of remembrances. And having a lunatic in her home had brought back a familiar sense of violation that would be hard to shake.

Sam called mid-shift to see how things were going, and Jess lied.

“I’m okay. I needed new stuff anyway.” She had sloughed off her friend’s concern so she wouldn’t worry, but mostly Jess knew she needed to convince herself that she could get her life back to normal, whatever the hell that was.

“When I get off duty, I’m bringing Chinese takeout and the two of us will finish cleaning up, okay? Nothing says love like Kung Pao.” Sam did her best to keep the pity from her voice, but Jess knew better.

“Sounds good. And I’ve got you a new key to my seriously humble abode.” She took a deep breath, exhausted after her stressful day. “See you soon, sista. And…thanks.”

Jess ended the call and took out another couple of trash bags. Tomorrow she’d get a fresh start hunting Baker. She’d look under every rock for the lowlife weasel, contact his known associates, and visit his old haunts to search for leads. She’d found him once before, she could do it again.

But now all she needed was a hot bath, something to eat, and time to heal—in that order.

Her body had taken a beating from her confrontation with Baker. And the trips up and down the stairs hauling garbage and maimed furniture hadn’t helped. To catch her breath, she leaned against the railing outside her apartment door and stared down at her life in a Dumpster.