Pursuit (25 page)

Cheryl heard a sound. The movement of old timbers resettling after pressure and weight had been applied. Someone was walking across the floor above her. She stooped down to retrieve the wallpaper she kept under the cot while sawing the plywood panel. She barely got the heavy colored paper back in place when she heard footsteps land on the stairs.

“Wake up, wake up, my little chicky pet. Time to go to work.”

The light and fan were extinguished and relit several times. The door opened to a dark silhouette, an arm moving in a slow pendulum motion. A hood was then tossed onto the cot. “Put it on and be quick.”

Seated on the fridge, Cheryl gazed at the dark mask. A ray of light crept through the heavy cloth as she slipped it over her head.

“Pull it down tight. No funny stuff. Leave the comedy to me, sweets.”

Cheryl tugged on the dark cloth. Suddenly she whipped off the hood and screamed. “A bug! A spider! Eek! Oh God!” She twirled around the room rolling the hood tight while searching with her fingers for the small hole that had given off the ray of light. “Oh Christ, it bit me! Ahhh!” She kept moving about the room, feigning disgust, all the while her fingers tracing the dark cloth.

“Put it on now, or I'm going to offer you a severe beating. Got it?”

She worked her index finger into the opening, making it a bit larger, then smoothed the cloth before putting it over her head. Staggering toward the door, her arms stretched out like a zombie, the tear appeared just to the side of her right eye. She promised herself she would not be harmed.

The man grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the stairs. “Up you go, Cheerleader. Time for your sex education class.”

Maybe, maybe not.
He hadn't tied her hands but had looped his hand firmly into the belt area at the back of her jeans. Once again he was singing his “Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go” Disney theme. Cheryl's view was a kaleidoscope of images flashing across her peephole. A rustic chair next to a worn couch, a table stacked with dirty dishes, and a poster of a nude woman hanging crookedly on the front of a wood door.

“Welcome to showtime, sweets.” He swung her aside and opened the door, pushing her into the room. Through
her makeshift peephole, she saw an unmade bed, and a brass headboard draped with assorted ropes and leather restraints.

She felt his presence at her side.

“Itsy bitsy spider, climbing up the wall. It's no good for you to holler, scream, or call.” He snorted. “Gotcha.”
Snort.
“Gotcha.”

S
omething, or someone,
saved Cheryl. The phone rang as the man had led her through what she thought was the living room and then into the bedroom. He locked the door while she remained staring at a wall. In the other room, King was on the phone. “But it's Saturday.” Then a long pause. “Why me?” And, in a changed voice, “I'll come in, of course.”

After moving the tiny hole in her hood, she peeked at a wall covered with a heavy curtain. A sliver of light pierced through where the drape caught on the windowsill. Grass and weeds covered a long stretch of backyard dominated by several large oak trees leading to a shimmering lake. The water ebbed into a basin, forming a pond-sized enclave. A wood boat, unused and in need of repair, lay on the shore, half into the finger of water.

She heard something through the thin-walled bedroom. Cheryl adjusted the drape to cover the light and hurried back to the center of the room.

“Well, Miss Prom Queen, this is your unlucky day.” He put his hands on her hips, his body shaking as he gyrated behind her. “Seems I've been alerted to an emergency
at my place of work, so heigh-ho and so forth, it's back to the dungeon you go.”

He pushed her through the living room and stopped. “Stay, you understand me? Stay.”

Behind her, a refrigerator door opened and closed, the rattle of a paper bag, and his tuneless humming. “It's now or never.”

So what does that mean?
He led her down the basement steps again. “Take two steps into the room, do not turn around,” he said at the door. “Take off the hood and without turning, pass it back to me.”

Cheryl complied and exhaled. The door closed behind her. On the concrete, a paper bag held a fresh supply of Cup Noodles, two apples, and three cans of sardines. Ten minutes later, the car and its tap-tap horn. He was gone; she had to get to work.

J
ulie's days and
nights melded. Her drive into work felt long, the lack of rest wearing on her. She asked for an early-morning meet with Walker and Todd.

“Since I've come across this, I've found the young Riley girl's mom, Venus, to have all sorts of baggage.”

“Like what?” Walker asked.

“Think I told you about this the other day. As Todd and I were leaving Riley's place, she runs out and spouts some garbage about someone named Rink or Tink.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Bolstered her story about being somewhat cooperative toward the end of the meeting.”

“Right, well. Todd, I didn't bring you up to date on this. It was just last night. With everything going on, it slipped by me. Sorry.”

“It's okay. So what about Lady Venus and her baggage?”

Julie looked to Walker for permission to continue.

“Go ahead. I'm anxious to hear what this pissant Riley has going on. Anything besides her hooker business?”

“Yep. In mid-1995, councilman Mars Riley, cousin of
Mayor Tom Bishop's wife, was indicted for fraud, which he of course denied. He says a relative named Venus committed said fraud.” Julie felt bad about not bringing Todd up to date on her findings. “It gets even better, Todd-O. At Miss Venus Riley's trial, she claimed her innocence and said she was bamboozled into this corruption by a man named—are you ready? Rhymes with kitchen sink.”

“Rink.”

“Close, name of Bink. Bink Caldwell. It's in the court documents and the police report.”

“You mean there really was someone named Bink?” Todd glanced at Captain Walker and then back to Julie.

Julie wanted to stand on the front steps of the station and shout it out. “When Venus was convicted for fraud, in her statement to the court, she said she was forced into her life of crime by this Bink Caldwell.” She let this settle in. “This same hero who had been dating her daughter turns out to be the exact guy who forced her into this misappropriation of funds and—this is the big one—at about the same time that her daughter goes missing. Odd, yes?”

Walker reached for the phone. “Get me a sector car that's in the vicinity of . . .” He looked to Julie and Todd.

Todd pulled out his notebook while Julie spouted off the address from memory. “Venus Riley, 2710 New Market Road. Unit D as in Delta.”

They waited as the captain directed the patrol unit to the Riley trailer. “How'd this come about?”

“I put it together with the Venus flytrap's sudden cooperation at the end of our interview, remember?”

Todd showed her a thumbs-up.

“I got to thinking about it last night. Our girl Venus thought we would stumble upon this Bink connection,
and she was trying to cover herself for later, down the road.”

Walker flipped his pencil in the air a few times. “What would you have done if you were taken off the case?”

Julie raised her hand, her index finger extended above her clenched fist. “As a private citizen, a quiet talk with Venus would have been in the cards.” She cocked her thumb with a loud
click
.

Julie and Todd hung out at Coffee Time Cafe waiting for word from Walker that they had corralled Venus Riley.

Todd tore his paper napkin into tiny bits. “Why didn't this idiot tell the cops at the time of her daughter's disappearance about our guy Bink?”

Julie pulled a piece of croissant off her half of their joint breakfast. “Beats me. Well, yeah, but she gave up his name at trial. She's one of those people with a perpetual hard-on for cops. Such a snot. That vitriol about ‘haven't seen you people for twenty years, I know you got better things to do than find a poor kid who disappeared, blah-blah.' ” Julie's cell rang. “Yeah? Okay, Cap. We'll be right there.” She dropped a five on the table. “Venus is at the station.”

When they arrived, Todd hung back as Julie came upon Walker shadowing Venus strolling down the corridor into an interview room.

Venus settled into the cramped space on her own slow time.

Julie spoke up. “Would you like something to drink? Soda, coffee, water?”

Walker cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Miss Riley, there's no smoking in here. If you'd like to step outside, please do so.”

She lit her cigarette and blew smoke in Walker's direction. The three of them sat around the table. Julie made notes while Walker reached over and opened the door. Venus fiddled with a gaudy necklace.

“The up-to-date is this,” Walker said. “No smoking in a government building. No exceptions. Also, Miss Riley, you're here at my indulgence. You claim you're indigent. If any of this doesn't sit well with you, you'll be placed under arrest.”

“On what charge?”

“Violation of criminal code 6110: pandering, solicitation. Criminal code 350: hindrance of a criminal investigation. Withholding evidence.

“I could go on.”

Walker once again addressed Venus. “Miss Riley, you say you know nothing that would indicate these charges are anything but vindictive nonsense. Is that your position?”

“Yes, nonsense,” Venus said with a smirk.

“Nonsense?” Julie jumped to her feet, her hands halfway across the table. “
My daughter has been kidnapped,
and you use the word ‘nonsense'? Miss Riley, you have knowledge of a Bink Caldwell, were in business with him, and because of him, spent six years of an eight- to ten-year sentence for fraud, and you say nonsense? You're withholding information;
that's
real nonsense.”

“Stop this bull right now!” Walker pounded the table. “Both of you! I mean it.”

Julie spoke in a conciliatory tone. “Captain, may I please?”

Walker breathed hard, his face reddening. He tried to smile. “Go ahead.”

“What do you say to an understanding? Huh?”

No one spoke.

“All right, we needn't verbalize it, but since we're all sitting here anyway, listen to this.”

Julie shifted her attention to Venus. “Miss Riley, my daughter is being held captive as we speak. Are you going to help with this business or not? Regardless of what you may feel about me, or how angry you may feel toward the police and this meeting, would you put yourself in my position? As a mother, you know what it's like to have a child missing. Could you be objective and try to help us out here?”

Venus's hard-worn features softened, and her thin hands went to her face. “I can do that. I met this A-hole Bink Caldwell in spring of '96. He answered an ad I put in the paper for someone to share expenses on a three-bedroom house I was trying to buy; a rental with an option to purchase. I won't get into it, but it was a long, hot spring. Then Bink, the prick, I catch messing with my daughter, Marylou. He talks me into doing some rubbish with my brother's company. At about the same time, Marylou went missing. Then the company's gone, along with Bink. It's all in the local police report. Sergeant Worth, what the hell else can I tell you? I don't know anything else except what I've said.”