All He Sees, page 5
Dean began to cry. “I’m twelve!” he shouted. “I’m a kid!”
Nicky could understand that. She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “Okay, Dean. So why don't you just talk to us?"
Dean bit his lip. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. "It was--he--he gave me money, okay?"
Nicky stiffened, her eyes hardened on Dean. Someone really did put the kid up to it. Her teeth grit together.
Maybe it was the kidnapper.
"Who did, Dean?" Nicky asked. "Who paid you to break the camera?"
"It was just a man, I don't know--he said his name was Pedro," he blabbered. "He was in a green car. I swear, that's all I know!"
"Are you sure?" Nicky pressed. "You don't know anything else about him? A license plate number? What did he look like?"
"He was wearing sunglasses, even though it was dark when I was out skateboarding," Dean said. "I didn't really see him. Maybe he was sort of pale and had short hair, but honestly, I don't know."
"How much did he pay you?" Ken asked.
"Twenty dollars..." Dean kicked at the road.
Nicky sighed, standing up straight.
Evidence of Mira Phillips's kidnapping could be lost, all for twenty dollars.
Nicky turned to Ken, her hands on her hips. They had all they could get from Dean for now. "Let's take this kid home to his father."
CHAPTER SIX
The warm Florida sun filtered through the sheer curtains. Day lilies and poincianas swayed in the ocean breeze outside her hotel window. Nicky sat at a white-painted table in her hotel room--unlike previous cases, this coastal Florida community had a strong tourist scene, and the hotel was in mint condition. Birds chirped in the lush palms outside and strolled through the flowers like they owned them.
She had her laptop open in front of her while Ken was out grabbing them some dinner. It was a longshot, but maybe there was someone around here named Pedro who happened to have a green car registered to their name.
So far, no real luck. There were a lot of Pedros in Florida, and she knew she had to narrow her search to the area, or else they'd be trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Nicky leaned back in her chair, sighing, and glanced out the window. She couldn't help but notice how clear the sky was. It was an azure blue, cloudless and perfect, making Nicky's mind float away and she imagined herself lying out there, staring up at the sky and watching the clouds roll by. She imagined the breeze blowing through her hair, the sun's orange rays warming her skin, the smell of salt in the air.
There was a knock at the door, and Ken came in holding a bag of food.
"I thought maybe you were hungry," he said, setting the bag down on the table.
Nicky turned away from the window, looking at the bag. "I'm not sure if I can eat," she said.
Ken let out a sigh. "You know what happened with the kid was a fluke," he said. "The case will be solved, and it will be a small bump in the road."
"The case is not solved," Nicky said. "We don't know who kidnapped Mira. We don't have any idea where she is or who has her or what they want or..."
"So, we get to the bottom of it," Ken said. "One day at a time, Lyons. Any luck with the Pedro thing? Honestly, it's a flimsy lead."
"I know." Nicky sighed and picked up the food from the bag. "But we have to do something. The kid couldn't even describe the car other than its color."
Inside the bag of food was a burger with lettuce and tomato, a small container of French fries, and a drink. Nicky split it in half and passed it to Ken, who dug in as she did.
The sun was starting to dip down, and it cast a long shadow over their table. The food was warm, and the fries were particularly crispy.
Nicky's mood lifted a little. The food helped. She and Ken ate in silence as Nicky continued to scroll through a list of Pedros, looking for any who had green cars and happened to live in Vale.
There were many. Pedro Martinez, address in Vale, with a green sedan registered to his name. However, Pedro had no priors--there was no reason to suspect he'd be involved, other than his name and car. Nicky made a note of it anyway. If necessary, she'd take photos of car models to Dean and ask him to identify them.
Pedro Lopez, address in Vale. He had a green Jeep. He had priors for petty theft and a DUI. It was a longshot, too...
Nicky made a note of that Pedro as well.
Then there was Pedro Rivera, address in Vale, with a green SUV. He was arrested for a DUI once, but that was about it.
Nicky let out a sigh and took a bite of her burger. She could keep checking off names all night, and it probably still wouldn't bring her any closer to the kidnapper.
Ken was reading files in front of her as he ate, and Nicky took a moment to break from her laptop screen. Her eyes were starting to hurt.
"Honestly," she said, voice tired, "the guy probably did give the kid a fake name."
Ken looked up from the files. "Could be a stolen car too."
"I guess we could see if any green cars have been stolen recently," Nicky muttered, but that seemed like a shot in the dark too. If they saw a reported stolen green car, then they'd still have no idea who stole it.
Frustration grew in her. She hated not knowing exactly what to do next. This day was dragging on, and Nicky wished she could just have a stiff glass of whiskey.
She sat back for a moment and tried to think about who this kidnapper might be.
He was bold, clearly. He had taken three girls within eight months of each other, and all of them happened to look strikingly similar. He had a type--athletic, freckled, brown-haired... Nicky felt like that could mean something, point to who he really was, but she wasn't sure how it all tied together yet.
He had a car, clearly, and that car was green. It probably wasn't difficult to find a green car in Florida, but he could have picked it up in another state.
What was his motive? He was clearly obsessed with these girls--he was acting out a fantasy, but whose?
Nicky shook her head.
"I just don't know how this guy thinks," she said. "I need to get inside his head."
"Well, is there anything about him that might help us?" Ken asked. "Not necessarily a clue to who he is, but does anything about his methods give us any idea of where he might be?"
"I don't know," Nicky said. "Maybe his victims are meant to represent some part of his fantasy. Maybe they look like someone from his past, someone he was obsessed with or someone who left him."
Ken leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms behind his head. "That would make sense, though it points us no closer to who this guy is."
Nicky sighed. This Pedro clue, as flimsy as it was, really was all they had to go off at the moment. Nicky turned back to her laptop and went back into searching through the database.
Just as she was about to call it quits and take a fresh-air break, one Pedro Lopez stood out to her. He drove a dark green CRV. Nicky cross-referenced his name in the FBI database, and that was when she saw it:
This Pedro Lopez had once lived in Vale, not far from where Mira was taken. In fact, he lived right around the corner from her.
He moved away a few months ago.
According to his file, he had never been charged with any crimes, but there was a note that he'd been reported for loitering.
"Holy shit," Nicky said, looking at Ken.
"What?"
"This guy," she said. "He used to live in Vale, and he moved away a few months ago. He lived in Mira’s neighborhood."
Nicky pulled up his file and skimmed through it. She found the incident report and looked through the description.
She was right.
He was a Hispanic male, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was in his late twenties. He had been reported when he was standing around Mira's neighborhood, just hanging out. When he was questioned, he said he was waiting for a friend who lived in the area. The report also listed his address, which Nicky quickly wrote down.
"This could be our guy," she said. "He used to live in the area."
"So, he might have some kind of connection to the place."
"He might," Nicky said. "He might be the guy who paid Dean to break the camera. If he was familiar with the neighborhood, he could have known Dan's Convenience had the camera."
"But you said he doesn't have any priors," Ken said. "He doesn't seem like a hardened criminal."
"I know," Nicky said. "But he might have been involved with someone who was, and he might not even know it."
"So how does this help us? He's not even in Vale anymore," Ken said.
"It's a start," Nicky said, standing and closing her laptop. She felt like she was finally on the right track, and it made her feel much better. "It's a place to dig, at least," she said, "and he might have a connection to Mira that we haven't figured out yet."
"All right," Ken said, standing too. "Let's go."
CHAPTER SEVEN
She could feel it moving.
As Mira curled in the corner of the box, holding her head between her hands, she could feel the movement of the boat beneath her. She didn't know where they were taking her. She didn't know where they were, or who the hell took her. All she knew was that she was trapped in this box, and that there was no way out.
As she sat there, terrified, shaking, she thought about all the events in her life that had led her to this moment. She wondered if anyone heard her scream when she was taken. She wondered if anyone missed her or was looking for her.
She wondered if there was any way to survive the terrible fate she was probably meant to suffer.
She’d done everything she could. She’d prayed. She’d been loyal…
So why was this happening to her now?
What had she done to deserve it?
And the more she thought about it, the more she found herself wishing that she could forget.
Everything.
As she sat, waiting to see what happened, she wished that she could forget. That she could just lose herself in this oblivion, blissful and unaware of what was happening to her. That she could forget it all.
As she sat there, curled up, cradling her head, she wished that she could forget her name. She wished she could forget her life. She wished she could close her eyes, and simply shut out the world.
Maybe she deserved to suffer. Maybe she deserved this. Maybe she deserved to be locked in a tiny, dark box and thrown into the sea. Maybe it was punishment for all the bad things she’d done. Maybe she'd been a bad person in a past life and was paying for it now.
Maybe she’d done something wrong. Maybe if she just told herself that she deserved this, maybe it would make it easier to take.
Then, she sat in the tiny, dark box, the vague awareness of her surroundings fading from her mind, and in one last desperate attempt to escape the reality that surrounded her, she closed her eyes and wished herself away.
As she sat, breathing hard, she thought about all the good things in her life. She thought about how lucky she’d been to be born, to have friends and a home, to have her sister. She thought about the friends she’d made in the short time she’d had a life.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. It seemed like hours. Mira didn't know how long she sat there, curled into the corner, crying and whimpering. She didn't know how long they drove. She didn't know how long she sat there, feeling the box shake from the movements of the vehicle.
She was afraid. She was terrified. She had no idea what was going on. She had no idea why she was here. But she knew that whoever was responsible for this would get away with it.
Mira trembled and thought about her mother back home in Florida. If Mira had known she would be kidnapped, she would have told her mother she loved her one last time. She would have told her little sister, June, not to wait up.
And if there was another life after this, if there were some kind of heaven or hell, she would have told her mother, and her sister, and her cat, and her friends, that she loved them.
She missed her family terribly. She missed her grandparents, her cousins, and her friends. She'd never see any of them again.
She had been taken, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Mira tried to control her quivering, but she could feel her body shaking. She tried to hold still, but she could feel her thighs trembling. She tried to calm down, but she could feel herself shaking and sobbing and shivering.
Suddenly, the box jolted to a halt. Mira stopped and lifted her head. She heard men's voices on the other side.
They were coming.
This was it. They were going to kill her--she was sure of it. All Mira could do was hold herself and pray.
Then, all at once, a blinding light took over. Mira's eyes were pierced by it, and it hurt to see as they adjusted to the forceful brightness. Suddenly, the inside of the box felt like the safest place to be.
Men with guns looked in on her. "Come on, get out, let's go!" one of them shouted.
Mira didn't move. She was paralyzed with fear. Her body was trembling, and she was curled up into the corner, trying to disappear. She was terrified of what was going to happen to her.
The man with the gun shook the box. "Come on, shit! Let's go!"
Mira looked at the man, and then looked at the end of the box. Men with guns were waiting for her. Her heart was racing. She didn't know what was going to happen. She was terrified. The men were yelling at her to hurry.
Mira looked up, dazed and confused. One of the men gestured towards her with the barrel of his gun, "Get out, I said!"
She had no choice.
She slid out of the box, and suddenly felt the sun on her face.
It was warm. But Mira knew this was no paradise.
This was hell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nicky pressed the accelerator to the floor and felt the car surge forward along the highway. To her right, the sea stretched endlessly as the sun set, creating an orange glow across the water. Her view of the water was obscured by the large palm trees to her right. She could hear the sound of small waves lapping against the beach, and she could smell the salt in the air.
Ken was in the passenger seat, holding onto the handle as Nicky drove.
"He might not be there for long," Nicky said, teeth gritted.
An APB had a hit on Pedro Lopez's car--but he wasn't home. He was at a bar off the highway, and Nicky didn't want to miss him.
"At the very least," Ken said, "we can ding him on drinking and driving."
Nicky nodded, grim, and changed lanes. The bar was about forty minutes out, but Nicky planned to make it in twenty.
"Jesus, Lyons, slow down," Ken said. "You know we can still get in shit for speeding."
Nicky glanced at her speedometer and let her foot off the gas, allowing the car to steady itself. But she was irritated and on edge, so she couldn't resist a biting comment: "Just let me do the driving, Walker. What are you working on?"
Ken laughed and held up his hands to reveal his empty lap. "Nothing right now, as you can clearly see. I've already read the files over and over again."
"Well, focus on yourself, Walker."
"What's got you so irritated?" Ken asked, glancing at her.
Nicky focused on the road as the sun continued to set. She bit her tongue. Why was she so irritated? It was just a lot of pressure. Nicky wanted to get this case solved as soon as possible.
She could admit to herself that she had personal reasons for that, too.
The sooner Nicky solved the crime and saved those girls, the sooner she could get back to the prison and talk to Felix again and find out what the hell he meant when he said something about her father. It was nonsense, and all Nicky had to do was make him say something concrete--something that could convince Chief Franco that Rosie's case was worth reopening.
In a way, Rosie's fate rested in Felix Anderson's hands, and that made Nicky's blood burn more than anything. She felt out of control--both in this case with Mira, Clara, and Erica, and with Rosie.
She hated feeling out of control. That was why it was always her behind the wheel.
When Nicky didn't answer Ken's question, he let out a light scoff. "You're abrasive, Agent Lyons."
"What?"
"You know what I mean. Your attitude, it can be so brash and caustic."
Nicky glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. She didn't respond.
Ken turned away from her and looked out the window on his side, sighing.
She knew he had a point. Nicky wouldn't describe herself as a closed book--she didn't keep secrets, but she didn't exactly make friends either. As she drove, inching them closer to their destination, she let out a sigh. She didn't want things to be rough with Ken. They needed to work together. Their partnership was still new, and there were still kinks to work out.
"All right, Walker, I'll bite," Nicky said. "What do you find so abrasive about me?"
"You always need to be in charge," Ken said. "You're a talented agent--don't get me wrong. But sometimes I think you need to let off a little steam. I don't think you need to always be so serious."
Nicky didn't respond, and they drove in silence for a while. Nicky was processing Ken's observation. He only knew the version of her that existed at work--he'd never seen her unwind, have a few drinks. Alcohol was Nicky's vice; she kept it under control on cases, but the truth was, at home, she normally had a glass of whiskey every night. She'd call that loosening and lightening up.
"No offense, Walker, but you really don't know me," Nicky said. "Not who I really am. You know who I am at work."
"So, who are you outside of work?" He was looking at her now, curious, and Nicky felt antsy under his intense gaze. She focused on the road. It was a fair question, but she didn't know how to answer it.
"I know how to lighten up," she said, "that's all. But when I'm working a case, all I care about is getting the job done."
"But at work, you're a drill sergeant."
Nicky laughed and shook her head. "That's funny, coming from you," she said.
A smile tugged at the corner of Ken's mouth as he shrugged. "Nicky, I'm not going to underestimate you. I don't think you're a drill sergeant. I just think you could use a little balance in your life. I think that maybe you're always so focused on work because it helps you cope with what happened to your sister.”
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