Pursuit (22 page)

“Climbed up through a door in the roof. Don't let him come down unassisted. He could have a weapon.”

“Right. Hey, buster! Throw me your house keys. Do it!”

Julie double-handed her Sig as she watched the man fumble in his pocket. He looked all around before tossing the keys—not to Todd but at the dirt pathway in front of the house.

Todd and Julie exchanged looks as Todd retrieved the keys and let himself in.

Julie waited outside in case junior went sideways. She wondered if any of this would help get back her daughter. She watched as Todd guided the man's legs back down onto the kitchen ladder. Todd cuffed him and brought him outside.

“Bitch.” The man spit on the ground in front of Julie.

“Hey, that's my sergeant, you asshole!” Todd gave the man's arms a good tug upward.

“Oh, you mean piece of tail—”

“Shut your mouth unless you're asked a question.” Todd grabbed the back of his neck. “Now,” Julie said calmly, “as I said, there's been an abduction.” She closed the distance between them.

The man's brow wrinkled.

“A kidnapping. Someone taken against their will. You understand?”

“A two-tone Ford Bronco.” The man spewed the information like a child reciting his wrongdoing. “Dented right front fender; maybe early nineties. Okay?”

“What color?” asked Todd.

“Puke green and white.”

Todd went to uncuff the man. “Why didn't you say that in the beginning?”

“I'm gonna have your badge. You're gonna wish you didn't wake up this morning,
amigo
.”

“I'm going to shake down this shithole disaster you're living in, my friend.” Todd got up close to the man's ear.
“Am I going to find something your parole officer won't like?”

The fellow hung his head and pouted.

“What else did you see?” Julie demanded. “And speak up.”

“The guy parked. About an hour later, it's raining. I was rolling up the windows in my truck when the dude comes back. Couldn't see much 'cause it was dark. Raining, like I said. They piled in.”

“They?” Julie asked.

“Yeah, looked like a young hottie with a short guy. It was dark.”

Julie got in front of the man. “What else? Give it up; I don't have time for bullshit.”

The bearded man shuffled from foot to foot. Todd once again gave him a nudge.

“I was watching my dog program. I didn't—”

“Dog program?”

“The
Bounty Hunter
guy.” He bit his lip and then blurted, “She was roped up and hooded. He put her in the back.”

“And you didn't find that unusual?”

“Don't know; ain't none of my doing. The driver sat there for a while, then got back out the car and pissed off into the woods.”

“Then you went back to your TV show, right?”

“Yeah, I don't know nothin' about this bullshit.”

“Did you see him leave?” Julie wanted to bust him in the chops.

“Nah, yeah, I don't know. About ten minutes or so, I was up during the commercial. A door slammed, and I saw the lights of the car. He was digging his way out of the ditch. What else you want, for Christ's sake?”

Julie half listened to Todd's recommendations to the man about future behavior. She knew she should be pained by the thought of Cheryl being roughed up by a mean-spirited bastard, but she felt only a growing anxiety. Todd tossed the man's house keys back to him as they walked to the squad car.

“Early-model Ford Bronco. It's something, partner, its gotta be something.”

He had her daughter bound and hooded. She needed to hold herself together. At this instant, without a second thought, she would gladly kill the son of a bitch who took Cheryl and who had been responsible for the death of her friend Billie. It became obvious to her that the reason officers were excluded from cases involving their relatives had to do with judgment, usually impaired.

B
ronco, huh? Not
many still on the road. I'll call Jackson Ross; his people can start running them down.” Captain Walker tossed two pages of names across his desk.

Julie and Todd scanned the list.

“The employees at your Drew Box Factory. The ones who were there when the CEO's niece was abducted. Doubt it will lead us anywhere.”

None of the names rang any felon bells or reminders of former bad boys.

“I'll call the plant. See who, if any, of their workers drives a Bronco. On another front, Jackson sent us this lead his analysts found. Old report that looks promising, from regional.” Once again Walker slid the pages across his desk.

Julie shared it with Todd.

Notice. Abduction. Angelina Hogar, white female, picked up by a passerby, partially nude on a dirt road just west of Wolf Bayou, Arkansas, near junction Rt 25 and Rt 92.
Abducted on April 1, 2012, east of Jonesboro, Arkansas, while hitchhiking. The aforementioned was on U.S. Highway
63 heading to West Memphis, Arkansas. The victim reports she was hooded and kept captive for two weeks. For further information contact Commander Lawrence Rensaler, West Memphis police.

“I called this Rensaler. He says Hogar is back in Jonesboro, tight-lipped, scared out of her mind. What do you think, guys?”

“Normally I would think of it as a common hitchhiking incident.” Julie looked again at the bulletin. “Maybe a solicitation deal gone bad, but it might be something. The hood, especially. He say anything else?”

“Yeah, only thing the girl said was she thought it was an older-model SUV and described the car as ‘not really,' meaning who in the hell knows what.”

“Maybe she meant it wasn't a van or an SUV but something in between.”

“Like a Bronco,” Todd piped up.

Walker looked at Julie. “Want to take a ride?”

“Definitely. Jonesboro?”

“You and Todd go interview this Hogar gal, see what you can turn up. It's only a couple hours down there. I'll call Jackson and tell him we'll cover this one.”

“You trying to get me out of your hair, boss?”

Walker tilted his head down. “It will do us both good if you do as I suggest and leave the hair reference to those more qualified than present company. There's nothing you can do here. If something develops, we're in touch by cell.” He paused. “I'll call Rensaler and let him know you're in the neighborhood.”

Dvořák's
New World Symphony
thundered from the radio as Todd drove the interstate south.

“I don't know if this is the proper music, considering your reference to Walker's hair,” he quipped

“You mean, as in long-haired music and ‘Get me out of your hair, boss'? Is that the segue you're trying to foist on me, Mr. Todd?”

“Sorry, that was weak. Jesus, when Walker gets pissed, he's funny.” He glanced across the seat to Julie. “Hey, what's going on?”

“He's like my dad.” Julie turned away, her hand going to her face. “Always so direct. Painful. How much farther? Are we there yet? Let's move it.”

They checked in with Rensaler when they got close to Jonesboro. His only advice: “She's upset and difficult, should probably be in a hospital being looked after. By the way, she doesn't have a phone, so I guess you just show up. Good luck.” He gave them her address.

They located the Hogar digs easily. A rented room above a workingman's bar on the hard side of town.

She wasn't home. Another tenant stuck his head out his door and volunteered that he thought she was at work, waitressing. When pressed, the Good Samaritan shrugged and suggested downstairs.

Todd spoke with Walker while Julie went to the tavern. She waited for her eyes to adjust, the dark interior a violent contrast to the midday sun. Someone played a pinball machine to her left. She noticed a silhouetted image reflected in the liquor bottles and back bar mirror.

“What's your pleasure, miss?” The barkeep, an older fellow.

“Hi, looking for a girl by the name of Angelina, works here. Can you help me?”

“You a cop?” He continued drying a cocktail glass.

“Out of state. Just want a word with Miss Hogar. She's not in any trouble, just want to talk a bit.”

“Good luck on that. Our Missy Hogar is screwed up. Don't know what happened. She was gone for a spell, then reappeared and was different.”

“Different, how?”

“Don't know, just different. Used to be all bright lights and grins, worked here for a while, then left. Like I said, weird. Wouldn't talk about it; boss had to let her go. Shame, nice gal. Works over at the cafeteria on Main.” He glanced at his watch. “Probably still there, since it's late lunchtime.”

Julie thanked the man and hurried toward the exit. The fellow at the pinball machine rubbed himself suggestively when Julie glanced his way.

“Hey, Ned, cool it. Five-O.” From the bartender.

She would add the pinball fool to her list of recent candidates for bozos of the week. Todd was just getting off the phone as she came blinking out of the bar. “Sorry to report nothing new. Find out anything?”

Julie headed for the car. “Our girl works at a cafeteria over on Main—and, incidentally, bars that open at noon suck.”

After several inquiries, they came upon the Mayfair. The cafeteria was half empty. In the back, a girl stood with a large tray of fried chicken. Julie watched her distribute food into the steam table and then look as if she had forgotten what to do next.

“Let's grab something to eat and wait until things thin out a bit, okay?”

Todd headed for the line. “Don't you think we should inquire if our Hogar girl is even here, Sarge?”

“She's here. Watch the kid with the food trays. She's in the kitchen now.”

Julie gestured to the food line as the girl drifted back and forth behind the counter.

“I see what you mean.” Todd watched her. “She's out of it.”

An older man in full apron and pencil mustache came up to speak with the girl. He pointed to different parts of the cafeteria before rushing back to the kitchen. Eventually she cleaned and bussed the table next to Todd and Julie.

“Angie, how are you?” Julie asked.

The girl's eyes darted back toward the kitchen and then settled on Julie. “Ah, fine, thank you.”

Julie got up and walked toward the middle of the stainless-steel food line, just opposite the doors leading to the kitchen. “Hello, Mr. Manager, hello.”

“What's up? Help you? I'm the owner.”

“May I have a word with you?” Julie pointed toward the end of the stacked food trays. They met behind the cashier. “Loved your chicken a la king,” she lied. “Everything was great.” Julie flashed her out-of-state badge and took on a conspiratorial tone. “We wanted to have a word with Angelina. She hasn't done anything wrong. But we think she could help us with something. Would that be all right?”

The man nodded but lost a bit of his hospitality.

Julie walked up to Angie. “Miss Hogar, you don't know me. I've spoken to your boss, asking if I might have a few words with you. Do you mind?” She motioned to a seat next to Todd.