The Advocate's Daughter (5 page)

“Hel-lo.”

“Frank, it's Sean Serrat, I'm so sorry to call you at this hour but it's an emergency.” He and Frank Pacini were more neighbors than friends, but they always enjoyed one another's company at neighborhood barbecues. And their daughters were close in age and friendly, if not friends. Their professional careers also crossed paths. Pacini, the deputy director of the FBI, would sometimes accompany agents to OSG if the government was working on a criminal appeal that was important to the Bureau. Sean had thought of calling 911, but he still didn't think, or want to think, something had really happened to Abby. And besides, who wouldn't choose a top FBI official over a D.C. cop on the night shift?

“Sean, of course, no problem, what's going on?”

Sean could hear Pacini shushing his wife, Ginger, in the background.

“It's Abby. She's missing. We haven't heard from her, which is unusual. She missed a family celebration dinner tonight, so Emily had me come to her apartment on the Hill. I'm inside right now. Abby's not here and the place has been trashed.”

“Are you sure it's not just a mess? My daughter's dorm room used to look like—”

“I'm certain,” Sean said. He examined the living room of his daughter's narrow basement apartment. A lamp was broken and a desk nearby had all the drawers pulled out. The galley kitchen, which was just a sink and refrigerator separated from the living area by a small counter, had pots, pans, and shattered dishes littered on the floor.

“Have you called the District police, Sean? There's jurisdictional issues I'll need to—”

“I've only called you. I want someone who knows Abby and who'll give a shit.”

A sigh blew into the phone's receiver. “How long's she been missing?”

“It's not the amount of time I'm worried about, Frank. It's her apartment. Someone's broken in and she's not responding to calls or texts. Please, I want someone here I trust. I'm asking you as a friend—as a father—to please come.” Sean tried to steady his breathing.

Pacini was quiet. After a long pause, he said, “Okay, Sean. Give me the address. And don't touch anything until I arrive.”

 

CHAPTER 10

It was thirty minutes before Sean heard the knock on Abby's door. As Pacini instructed, he hadn't touched anything, but he had carefully roamed, visually inspecting the apartment. The bedroom and bathroom, like the rest of the place, were torn apart.

Pacini scanned the living room and agreed that it wasn't simply a student's clutter. “I don't think we need to panic,” Pacini said. “She could've just gone out of town with friends, and someone noticed her apartment was vacant and broke in. When's the last time you spoke with her?”

Sean thought about this. “Actually talked? About a week ago. She called me yesterday afternoon, but I missed the call.”

“Was she planning any trips or has she taken off in the past? My daughter's pulled that crap and scared the hell out of us just like this.”

“You've met Abby. It's the end of the semester at law school and she's obsessive about her grades, so she wouldn't take off. She also doesn't own a car. And you know Emily. Abby wouldn't dare make her mother worry like this.”

Pacini walked into the living room, his steps purposeful, each foot landing so he didn't move any debris. He was wearing what Ryan would call “dad jeans” and a polo.

“We need to call in the District police. I'm not sure if Abby's apartment is within the jurisdiction of the Capitol Police, but I'll reach out to my contacts there too. Don't worry, I'll stay involved as long as I can. And I'll get some agents from the Bureau here tonight. The field office is only five minutes away.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

Pacini nodded. “I need a recent photo of Abby.”

Sean clicked on his smartphone and pulled up a photo of his daughter. It was a close-up, her face freckled from the sun, taken last summer at the beach.

“And I need her mobile phone number and carrier,” Pacini added. “We may be able to track her phone.”

Pacini pulled out his own mobile. Before dialing he said, “I think she's gonna turn up fine, Sean, but I have to ask you some questions because the people I'm gonna call will ask.”

Sean nodded.

“Has Abby been having any problems with anyone? A boyfriend, neighbor, or anyone?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Anything out of the ordinary with Abby lately? Drinking too much or—”

Sean cut him off with a sharp shake of the head.

Pacini hesitated. “Have
you
had any problems with anyone? Threats?”

“Me? Why would I get threats? And what would that have to do with Abby?”

“The newspaper stories about your possible nomination to the Supreme Court.”

It hadn't occurred to Sean that Abby's disappearance could be related to him. “No one in the public knows who I am. Hell, more people can identify Judge Judy than a justice on the Supreme Court, much less someone who
might
be a nominee. No threats, nothing like that.” His mind drifted to the man on the subway, but he dismissed it quickly.

“I'm gonna keep that avenue open,” Pacini said. “Not because I believe there's anything to it. But because it gives my agents a plausible jurisdictional hook.”

Pacini began making calls, and Sean left the apartment to get some air. Outside, the moon gave the street a silver glow. Headlights approached and part of him expected Abby to pull up in a friend's car and yell at him for being a ridiculous, smothering father. But when the sedan stopped in front of Abby's apartment, two men in blue windbreakers climbed out. Pacini's team. Sean opened the SUV's door, deciding it was time to make the call he dreaded. Emily.

 

CHAPTER 11

From the overhead speakers, Emily's sobbing filled the SUV as Sean tried to sound convincing that Abby would be okay. But he had a lump like a fist lodged in his throat. There was a knock on the window.

“Hold on, Em, Frank needs something.”

He fumbled for the automatic window button, then the glass hummed down. Pacini had dark circles under his eyes and a look of concern.

“My guys have captured a signal on Abby's phone. Does she know anyone who lives on Lexington Place? It's not too far from here.”

“I don't know,” Sean said.

Emily's disembodied voice said, “I think that's where Malik lives.”

“Are you sure?” Sean said.

“I picked her up there once. I could've sworn it was on Lexington.”

“Who's Malik?” Pacini asked.

Emily's voice: “A boy she's seeing.”

Pacini's face seemed to relax. His stare narrowed. “You hadn't already checked with her boyfriend before calling me?”

“He's not really her boyfriend,” Sean said, realizing how this must look to Pacini, who'd been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.

“The signal doesn't give us an exact address, just a location on the street,” Pacini said. “A lot of the places on the Hill are connected row houses, so it may be hard to pinpoint the exact location of the phone. Do you know this kid's address?”

Sean shook his head and Emily was quiet. Pacini pulled out his phone, but was interrupted.

Emily's voice again: “Turn on the navigation system,” she said. “There's a button that lists all the locations entered in the system. When I picked up Abby from Malik's place, I think I put in his address. Maybe it's still in there.”

Sean powered-on the navigation system. The screen on the dashboard showed a list of addresses and he scrolled down. There it was:
833 LEXINGTON PLACE, NE.

“What are you doing?” Pacini asked as the SUV's engine roared on.

“I'm going to find my daughter.”

Pacini looked at him, then over to Abby's apartment. Agents were standing on the stoop talking to the residents who lived in the town house above Abby's basement apartment. “Let me come with you, at least.”

Sean clicked the unlock button, and Pacini climbed into the SUV. Before he'd buckled his seatbelt, Sean was speeding down the narrow streets of Capitol Hill.

“Slow down a little,” Pacini said as the wheels screeched around Stanton Park. A blue line on the navigation screen pointed around the park and left on Sixth Street. Sean took a fast left, then a right, and jerked to a stop in front of a row house on Lexington. A woman's monotone voice from the navigation system said, “You. Have. Reached. Your. Destination.”

Sean jumped out of the SUV and ran to the front door. He rang the bell several times and then started pounding. The curtains on a side window opened a slit, closed, then he heard the click of locks.

“Can I help you?” The man at the door was black, in his late twenties. He wore a white tank and workout shorts. He looked at Sean, then Pacini, then Sean again.

“Mr. Serrat?… Is everything okay?”

“Abby's missing,” Sean said. “Malik, is she here?”

“Missing?” Malik Montgomery said. A bewildered look. “She's not here.”

Sean peered over Malik's shoulder into the row house. Noticing, Malik said, “You're welcome to come in.”

Sean pushed inside, Pacini right behind him. The row house, with rich hardwood, high ceilings, and expensive-looking furniture, didn't fit with the salary of a young judicial clerk. Sean recalled Emily saying that Malik was from money.

“Mr. Serrat, you're more than welcome to look around,” Malik said, trailing behind. “But she's not here.”

Sean turned to Malik. He stared deep into the young man's eyes. “Then why's her phone here?”

“Her phone?” Malik said. “What do you mean? Her phone's not here.”

Sean didn't respond and instead pulled out his own mobile and dialed Abby's number. He put the phone to his ear, confirmed ringing, then pulled it away. He treaded down the hallway, tilting his head slightly, listening. Malik started to speak, and Sean held up his hand, shushing him.

A faint reverberation, music. Sean stepped toward the sound. He opened the door to a bedroom.

“Is this your room?” he asked Malik.

“No. It's the guest bedroom.”

Sean crouched, ear toward the floor. More tinny music, muffled. The bed. He looked under it. There was no phone, but the music grew louder. Another sinking feeling. He put both hands under the mattress and flipped it off of the box springs.

And there it was. An iPhone in a shiny black case, ringtone blaring.

“Who Knew” by Pink.

 

CHAPTER 12

Sean launched himself at Malik Montgomery, grabbing him by the shirt and pinning him against the wall. A picture crashed to the floor, its frame cracking and glass shattering across the hardwood.

“Where's Abby?” His voice was guttural, desperate.

“I don't know, I swear, Mr. Serrat.” Malik was breathing heavily, his eyes wide.

Pacini put his hand on Sean's forearm, but Sean yanked it free. The room grew hot and Pacini's voice seemed far away.

“Sean, you need to calm down,” Pacini said. “This isn't helping.”

Sean just stood there with Malik pinned. Malik didn't resist.

“Sean!”

Pacini's bark finally snapped Sean out of it. Sean's senses were on overload. He was surprised at his own response. He released the grip on Malik's shirt. Malik just stood there, a shell-shocked expression on his face.

Pacini gestured to a chair angled in the corner of the room. Malik silently took a seat. Sean's heart was thumping now. He started to speak, but Pacini raised a hand to quiet him.

In an even tone Pacini said, “Malik, we need to ask you a few questions.”

Malik sat rigidly in the chair and gave a nod. He seemed to be collecting himself.

“First, you understand you have the right to remain silent and to have a lawyer present?”

That prompted a puzzled look from Malik. “You're Mirandizing me? Seriously?”

“Do you understand your rights? You're willing to talk without a lawyer present?”

“Of course, don't be ridiculous.”

Pacini's eyes swept over Malik, like he was assessing not just the man's words but also his body language. Then: “When did you last see Abby?”

“Yesterday,” Malik said. “We went to dinner. Sonoma on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Anyone see you there?”

“We didn't see anyone we know, if that's what you mean. But the waiter should remember us. And I have the credit card receipt probably.”

“What time was that?”

“I got there around eight, and Abby met me there about five minutes later.”

“And what time did you leave?”

Malik put a hand on his chin. “We left no later than nine o'clock.”

“And Abby came back to your place?” Pacini baited.

“No, actually, she didn't,” Malik said, a slight edge to his voice now. “She said she was going to the library to study.”

“You and Abby have anything to drink at dinner?”

Malik gave an exasperated sigh. “We each had a glass of wine.”

“So after a night out of dinner and wine, she just went to the library and you came home?”

“Look, man, I'm not one of the poor dumb black kids you're used to dealing with, so cut the shit.”

“It was just a question,” Pacini said. “Why are you getting so upset?”

“I'm upset because you barge into my house in the middle of the night, my friend is missing, and you're wasting your time accusing me of something when you should be out trying to find her.”

Pacini washed a hand over his face. “Okay, Malik, so you go to dinner. You said you were there for less than an hour. That's a pretty fast meal for a place like Sonoma.”

“We actually had a fight, which is why I think the waiter might remember us.” Malik's shoulders slumped, as though he realized how it sounded the second the words came out of his mouth.