More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) (33 page)

About a third of the way through my story, the mayor stopped me.

“You say they’re missing from Oakland as well?”

I nodded and was surprised when he pulled out of his cell phone and started dialing. “Excuse me a moment, Miss Branson.” He waited a moment then pressed the speaker button before setting the phone down between us. “It’s to Deacon Smith’s private line.”

Deacon Smith was the mayor of Oakland. He and Mayor Lee had put their heads together in recent years to pull off some of the most amazing fundraisers on the West Coast.

“Did you call for another golf whuppin’?” came a deep, baritone voice.

“Name the time, you lucky dog. I’m afraid this is a business call. I have a reporter here who has some disturbing news I think you’ll want to hear.”

“I’m all ears.”

Mayor Lee nodded for me to begin. So I did; uninterrupted. I wondered if maybe the line had gone dead.

“What do you think, Kai?” Deacon asked when I finished.

Mayor Lee sighed loudly. “My sources say she’s reliable. She’s not out to gain anything here, Deacon, other than to find her friend and maybe even save some lives. If we have a sicko out there and do nothing…well…you know how bad that looks.”

Deacon chuckled. “Your sources, eh? You mean your mama?”

“Did you read the story about the homeless in the
Chronicle
?”

“Those her pieces?”

I answered. “Yes, sir, they are.”

“Great photo of that dog and cat. Touching really. Excellent story.”

“Thank you. Look, I know my colleagues and I can be hard to trust, but this stopped being about the story a long time ago. I’ve come to know these people well enough to care whether they’re healthy and safe or not. All I’m asking is for you to put an investigator on it. That’s all.”

“That’s it? You reporters never have one simple request.”

“Mayor Smith, I grew up in Oakland. Graduated from Mills College. Believe it or not, I care. I’m just looking for your respective police departments to care as well.”

“I’ll take your lead on this, Kai. What do you think?”

“I think Miss Branson has the ability to enlist the population of both our cities with just a few strokes of her pen. For my part, I plan on speaking with the chief this afternoon. If someone is snatching our vulnerable homeless and we’re seen as do-nothing politicians it won’t bode well for either of our careers, Deacon. I say we go with her on this one. Help her out.”

“Gotcha. I’ll contact my boys, get the ball rolling on this end. Have your men call OPD and let’s set up a task force between the two cities. People love the idea of task forces.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Task force? Really?”

“Miss Branson, other than preying on children and the elderly, victimizing the homeless is the lowest of lows. Kai and I can’t afford to sit around passively uninvolved. You’ll get your task force Miss Branson.”

“And you will get the golden ink from my pen Mayor Smith.”

He laughed a laugh that sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a barrel. “It looks like we’ve got our bases covered. Anything else, Kai?”

“We still have that sewage dumping issue, but we can discuss that later. Maybe after I kick your butt on the links. Thanks, Deacon.”

“Any time. Nice meeting you, Miss Branson.” Then he clicked off.

“Deacon Smith is a very good man,” Mrs. Lee said softly. “He is probably on the phone to the Oakland Police Department as we speak.”

I rose. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Mayor Lee looked over at his mother. “Oh, I think you do.” He rose and shook my hand. “This time of year good press is hard to come by, but do know I am not just doing this because it makes me look good. I’m doing this because my mother believes you’re a woman of integrity and you truly care about those missing people. They are my people as well, and if someone is…hunting them, we need to put a stop to it. As a public servant, I have discovered that few people are truly altruistic. You are one of them.”

“I try, Mayor. Thank you so much for your time.”

“Thank you for caring.”

Handing him my card, I turned and bowed to Mrs. Lee.

When I finally got in my car, I had three missed calls with no message left from any of them; one call from Danica, and one from Finn. I called Finn first as I headed back to work. She wasn’t there, so I left a brief message saying I didn’t think the police department took a hit today; that I had effectively gotten what I needed without casting aspersions. Yes, I used the word aspersions. I grinned.  She would like it, too.

Before I could even pull out of the parking lot, my phone rang. It was Carl.

“Yo, Princess! Where you been? We’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

Ahh...my third missed message. “Sorry, guys. They make us turn our cell phones off for press conferences. Please tell me you whiz kids have something for me.”

“Well, we’ve come up with something for you, Princess, but we don’t know if any of it’s any good.”

I snapped on my Bluetooth and switched over to it. “I’m listening.”

“We’ve spent all morning working on this. Puff and Blow in the Hoarders’ section has a direct correlation to the Judas Iscariot line.”

I uncapped my pen and rolled down my window. “What do you mean?”

“Judas Iscariot was a traitor, right? Well, we searched all over the place to see if there was anything else to the name. We tried anagrams, Biblical references, the whole nine yards. We worked so hard on that one, our computers were smoking. Then, Roger input Judas. Just Judas. Do you know what Judas means on the street, Princess?”

“What?”

“Heroin. H. Horse. Shit. Nixon. Chick. China White. If this guy was writing in some kind of code, we think he saw something...something to do with heroin or drugs, maybe.”

“How do you make that connection to the puff and blow section?”

“We think the kid could be talking about himself in the line,
and I watching felt my heart contract with pain
. As you know, the
Inferno
is Dante’s idea of what walking through hell would be like. We think this kid likens his situation to hell, only
he
is the one describing everything to us using lines from the novel. As a savant, he doesn’t have words himself, so he’s using the text to say what he means.”

It made complete sense for Smiley to communicate that way. “Keep going.”

“Next, we looked up heliotrope. It’s also known as a bloodstone and is used by warriors to become invisible in battle. The other attribute about a heliotrope is that it turns blood red when immersed in water. We think he means not one but both of the references.”

“Good, good. Keep going.”

“Do you remember Circe changed Ulysses’ men to swine before keeping him prisoner for a year? Could be a clue. Could be nothing, but he does have a couple lines in here that deal with one thing turning into another, such as the swine and the heliotrope. He seems focused on something that isn’t what it appears to be. I wish I had more for you, but we’re still working on it. Roger thinks your little clue maker is brilliant and that we’re just too dim to get it.”

“He’s not brilliant in the conventional way. He’s a savant. Brilliant minds are often found behind the prison bars of autism.”

“We’ll go back to the drawing board and see if we can’t figure out what he’s trying to say, but I wanted you to know we’re making headway.”

“I appreciate this, Carl. Really.”

“Don’t count us out of the race yet, Princess. I’ll call back when we get something.”

I hung up and called Wes to tell him about my meeting with the mayor. Of course, he had already been informed about the first part of the press conference. Carter had called up ranting and raving about how unprofessional I was and what a rookie I looked like and how I had embarrassed the paper. That man had no boundaries.

“Of course he was steamed, Wes. I stole his thunder. Look, we’re working on two completely different stories. I’m not going to apologize for the mayor preferring to hear my question over Carter’s. You think he doesn’t know Carter is out to get him?”

“Is he?”

“Come on, Wes. He’s digging for dirt in a landfill. It’s disgusting and I can’t believe you’re condoning it.”

He laughed. “You either have the biggest balls on the planet or—”

“Or I’m right. Look, I happen to have the attention of the mayors on both sides of the bridge. I have their ear. They are creating a task force to look into what’s going on with the homeless on both sides of the bridge. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“No one is asking you to, but that press conference was Carter’s.”

“With all due respect, Wes,  Mayor Lee knows he’s out for blood. He wouldn’t have called on Carter if he was the only reporter in the room.”

“I understand that, but how could the mayor have known? Carter usually flies pretty low under the radar.”

“Not this time. Believe me, the tip-off did not come from me, but Kai Lee is well aware that Carter is gunning for him. It’s absurd Carter is even crying foul.”

“You have the go-ahead on your story, Branson. Let me worry about Carter. If you nail this story, Miss Branson, if you keep scooping the Trib, your life around here is going to get a helluva lot better. Keep me posted.”

No sooner had I hung up than the phone rang again.

“Is this the magician?” It was Finn.

“Excuse me?”

“You must be some kind of magician to get people to jump through the hoops they’re jumping through. Hats off to you. What in the hell did you say to Mayor Lee?”

“The truth. I decided to go right at him with it. The guy is a winner, Finn.”

“Well, guess who is in charge of the task force?”

“You?”

She laughed. “I’m a beat cop. Try Jardine.”

“You’re kidding? That’s excellent.”

“I think he has a crush on you.”

 “Well, I can only handle one cop at a time.”

She paused. “You think so? I hear cops can be a handful.”

“I’m counting on it. So, tell me about the task force.”

“We’ve got a coupla guys on it and OPD matched it. They’re meeting this afternoon to see what’s what. They’ll be contacting you for sure. I know I’m always busting Jardine’s chops, but the guy is a helluva detective. If anyone can get you where you need to go, it’s him.”

I nodded. I didn’t doubt that. “Thank you for your support. It means a lot to me.”

“Well, you’re beginning to mean a lot to me. I told you...if there was anything I could do, I will.”

“Yeah, I remember some line about if I wanted to feel safe at night to sleep with a cop.”

She laughed loudly. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Was that an invitation?”

“Do you want it to be?”

I grinned. “I have work to do, so I better scoot.”

“Be safe out there, Echo Branson.”

I started to say goodbye, when I slipped in, “And Officer Finn? I do so want to feel safe at night,” before hanging up with a smile on my face.

I flew across the bridge faster than I should have after I received a 911 call from Big George. He’d done an intake with a live one. All he would say about her was that she wouldn’t talk and was afraid of him and everyone else. He was afraid she might hurt herself if we couldn’t get her out of there.

“I came as soon as I could,” I said when Big George met me at reception in his usual green scrubs.

“Thanks for coming, sweetpea. This one is a head shaker. Can’t talk.” Big George ran his hand over his bald head to wipe the perspiration away.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Wish I knew. Hasn’t said a single word since she got here. Kinda like that little gal you helped when you were here.”

I was not yet a spotter like Big George, nor was I a hunter like Tip, but I
was
a very strong empath. I could possibly reach her where others couldn’t. I was a communicator who hadn’t yet earned my spotter’s stripes. I wanted to. I wanted to help as many of us as I could. Maybe it was my Mills education or just the fact that I loved being a sane and healthy super, but I wanted to play the biggest role I could among my people. “I’ll give it my best, Big George.”

“I know you will.”

“What was she brought in for?”

“She just stopped talking. Apparently, it was a slow progression from an outgoing, cute little girl, to this stoic, emotionless ten- year-old who says nothin’ to nobody.”

“She’s only ten? What’s she done so far?”

“She just sits there and watches the crazies. Doesn’t interact, doesn’t act out. Just watches.” He strode along, rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the shiny white floor. I hurried to keep up with his long strides.

The elevator dinged and we got off. A cold chill swept over me, and for a nanoscecond, I thought about getting back in the elevator.

“It’s okay, sweetpea. You ain’t never comin’ back here.”

I worked to shrug off the anxiety and panic creeping through my veins. I’d never been as afraid as when I was in here, facing an uncertain future and small white cups of medication. “I’m sorry.”