A Woman of Valor, page 33
“Great work on tracking Harkins’s trail,” Jalen said once they’d rejoined Shannon in the office. “Any new reports since I left Hartford?”
“Possible sighting in a greasy spoon outside Danbury,” Val said. “Unconfirmed. Almost a half hour ago. Nothing since.”
“We’re not sure which direction he went from there, either,” Shannon said. “But get this: Danbury P.D. picked up a stolen Toyota at the scene, reported missing in Newtown. So we think he’s continuing southwest, toward New York.”
“I just hope he doesn’t stay in Danbury.” Val sat on the edge of her desk. “I have family there.”
“There are families everywhere,” Jalen said, grimacing. “I don’t want him near any of them.”
“Detective?” A young plainclothes officer, Dion Woodson, held a phone out to Shannon. “Call for you. Says it’s urgent.”
Shannon grabbed the phone and a pen, scribbling notes on a pad on her desk. “O’Reilly. Who’s this? Oh, hello, Seňora. What’ve you got?...I see. When was this? What's the number?...Thank you. And yours? Hello?” She swore and hung up, then smiled. “Good news. Harkins is heading our way.”
“To Clayton?” Val jumped up and pressed closer to Shannon. “How do we know?”
“That was Rosa Martinez,” Shannon said.
“Antoinetta’s Mom?” Val said. When Shannon nodded, Val explained to Jalen, “She was one of his victims here—the one where Samuels got shot.”
“Where you all met,” Jalen said with a touch of irony.
“Harkins got in touch with her tonight, looking for a place to crash,” Shannon said. “We have the number of the phone he used.”
“We should be able to trace it and track his whereabouts,” Jalen said. “That’s a huge break for us!”
“I’ll do it!” Val took the notepad from Shannon to copy the number. Before writing a single digit, her whole body went numb. In a whisper, she asked nobody in particular, “Why the hell is Harkins using my brother’s cell phone?”
***
Harkins eyed the woman, who kept surprisingly calm and drove in the right lane at a few miles under the speed limit. Her delicate face had no scars, no wrinkles, no blemishes except where tears had streaked her light makeup. He imagined her slender form naked, bending to his will. Doing nasty, wonderful things to please him. Pretending pain, but she’d love it, secretly craving more. They all did.
“Mommy,” the girl said, interrupting his daydream, “I have to go potty.”
“Just hold it,” Harkins said. Stupid kid.
“Hold on, honey,” the woman said. “We’ll find a bathroom for you soon.”
“We’re not stopping,” he said.
“But I have to go!” the girl said.
“Piss on the seat,” Harkins said. No way he‘d let them stop. Too risky. He turned back to the girl, remembered her parents addressing her in the restaurant. “Your name is Ali, right? Is that short for Alice?”
The daughter shook her head. “Mommy says not to talk to strangers.”
“How do you know her name?” the woman said.
“I’m a good listener,” he said with a harsh laugh. He stroked her thigh. “So, what’s your name, sweetness?”
She slapped his hand off. He grabbed her leg again, gripped it tight. “Keep your mitts on the wheel, bitch!”
Something thumped the back of his head. Multiple times. Harkins swung an arm back, blocking a Dr. Seuss book from smacking his skull again. He snatched the book, lowered the window, and threw The Cat in The Hat onto the wet roadway.
“Hey!” the girl said, crying. “That was mine!”
“Now it’s nobody’s.” He powered the window back up, leaned over the seat and grabbed her wrists, shaking her. “If you so much as move one inch for the rest of this ride—”
The car swerved, tires screeching. Harkins slammed against the passenger side door. His head hit the glass, and he saw stars for a moment. The car veered again a few times, but he braced himself and grabbed the steering wheel with one hand, the woman’s hair with the other. “Do that again and you spend the rest of your short life in the trunk!”
The woman cowered and slowed the car, but kept driving. After several seconds, she nodded, tears flowing again. He let go and relaxed into his seat. Once again, the car went quiet.
“My auntie’s a cop, and she’s going to arrest you,” Ali said.
“Ali!” the woman said.
Rage boiled inside Harkins. He pulled out his gun, spun to face the back seat again. “You think so?” he shouted. “Is that what you think will happen?”
Ali stared at him, defiant. “Yup. You broke the law.”
“Hush!” the woman said, but both he and the girl ignored her.
“Oh, did I?” Amusement replaced some of his anger. The girl had chutzpah. “What law is that?”
“You stole my book,” she said, matter of fact. “And you didn’t buckle your seat belt. You can go to jail for that.”
“Is that so?” Harkins laughed and lowered the gun. “Well, Ali, guess what? You only go to jail if you get caught. And I’m not.”
“Is this necessary?” the woman asked, her voice shaking.
“Yes, you are,” the girl said. “My auntie will catch you.”
Harkins laughed. “I can’t wait.”
“Be quiet, Ali,” the woman said. “He asked us not to talk. We don’t want to make him mad, do we?”
“That’s right,” Harkins said. “You sure don’t.” He grabbed the woman’s thigh again. “Remember that.”
The kid shut up, finally, thank God. The woman glanced at him, her lip quivering, but said nothing, and let his hand remain on her leg this time. He slid it into her crotch, squeezed, then continued up her torso and cupped her breast.
“That’s very...rude. And distracting,” she said, choking.
“I can imagine.” He squeezed her breast harder.
“As in, dangerous,” she said. On cue, a car passed way too close on the left, its horn blaring.
“We may need to pull over, then,” he said, “to relieve the tension.” Harkins laughed and dropped his hand back to her leg. More meat there. Her boobs were too tiny.
“You wouldn’t...” She licked her lips, not looking at him. “Not with her right here. You couldn’t.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe she’ll learn something.”
“That’s disgusting!” She glared at him. “You pig. I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me. Well, it worked. Good for you. Okay? Now, we’re ten minutes from Clayton—”
“Take the next exit,” he said.
“But—”
“Do what I tell you!” Harkins poked her in the ribs with the .44. “Now, answer me this time: what’s your fucking name? And don’t lie!”
“K-Kendra,” she said.
“Well, Kendra,” he said, “we’re going to have ourselves a little party. And you’re going to like it.”
Chapter Forty-One
Val’s first instinct was to call Chad’s cell, but Jalen warned her off. “Harkins might turn the phone off, and then we can’t trace it,” he said. “Worse, we’d tip him off that we’re on his trail. We’re better off staying quiet.”
Shannon obtained a data dump from the local cell towers and requested access to the state’s Stingray tracking system, but the usual bureaucracy intervened, forcing them to wait. “It’s amazing we ever catch crooks,” Val complained after Shannon shared that unfortunate news.
“Patience,” Shannon said. “Harkins will make a mistake, and when he does, we’ll be ready.”
Val's cell phone rang, and the Caller ID made her head go numb. “It’s my father,” she said. “He hasn’t called me since I graduated high school.”
“Answer it,” Jalen said. “He might have word on your brother.”
She did. “Hello, Dad.”
“Val. It’s me, Chad. Is this a bad time?”
“Chad!” Val crossed to a freestanding whiteboard and uncapped a dry erase marker. “Where are you? What happened to your phone?”
“Guess I lost it,” he said. “Val, Kendra and Ali have gone missing!”
“What? How? When?” Heart pounding, she scribbled “Wife & daughter missing” on the whiteboard.
“We got separated after we stopped for dinner,” Chad said, worry etched in his voice. “I kept expecting her to catch up with me on the highway, but she never did. I’ve waited at Dad’s for a half hour, but she hasn’t shown up. She’s not answering her phone, either. This isn’t like her, Val. I’m worried.”
“Where did you last see your phone?” Val asked, jotting notes on the whiteboard. Nervousness grew inside her. The timing of Harkins having his phone and Kendra going missing struck her as much more than coincidental.
“Never mind my damned phone! Help me find her. What should I do?” His voice climbed a register above his usual tenor, almost a shriek at the end.
“Which car was Kendra driving?” Val asked.
“The Volvo,” Chad said. “Should I go looking for her?”
“She’s probably broken down somewhere on the highway,” Val said to reassure him. “I’m sure she called Triple-A.”
“Then why won’t she answer her phone?” The worry in his voice doubled.
“Maybe it’s dead, too.”
“Then she couldn’t have called Triple-A! Val, I’ve got to go find her!”
“Don’t do that,” Val said. “Give me the license plate number. I’ll ask the highway patrol to look for her.” After writing down the digits, she performed a quick search of the state trooper’s online logs. Nothing.
“Chad, listen. Stay put at Dad’s in case she calls the landline. Now, don’t panic, but a criminal we’re tracking on I-84 is using your phone. He must have found it or stolen it from you when you stopped for dinner. Give me the whens, whats, and wheres of that and we’ll—”
“Do you think this has something to do with Kendra and Ali going missing?” Chad asked, his worry escalating into panic. “Oh, shit, Val, I just realized. He didn’t steal it or find it. I left it in the charger in the Volvo! He has Kendra and Ali!”
“We don’t know that,” Val said, scribbling notes for Shannon and Jalen. But in her heart, she agreed with him. “Listen. Can you go online at Dad’s and trace your phone?”
“If I can remember my password,” he said, calming. “Hold on.” Tapping noises and occasional beeps drifted in over the phone. “Well, that’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Val asked. “Did you find it?”
“According to this,” Chad said, “my phone is right here in Clayton. Downtown, at the old public housing complex—Torrington Meadows. I thought that place had shut down?”
Val scribbled the tenement’s name on the board. “I’m just a few blocks from there,” she said. “We’ll check it out. Stand by the phone!”
“I’ll send some units into the area,” Shannon said.
“I’m going, too,” Val said.
“Me too,” Jalen said. “O’Reilly?”
“I’ll coordinate from here,” Shannon said. “You go on ahead.”
Val took the stairs while Jalen and Woodson waited for the elevator. Reaching the lobby about a minute later, she glanced at the elevator’s indicator lights. Sure enough, they hadn’t yet started their descent. Protocol demanded that she wait.
Screw protocol.
She dashed outside and ran at top speed toward the old apartment building, abandoned two decades before after several failed health inspections. Numerous proposals to demolish and redevelop Torrington Meadows had foundered under the weight of extraordinary debt, grand-standing politics, and regulatory red tape. Instead, the site had become a hotbed of gang and drug activity, crumbling inside a wire-link fence that kept out anyone without a death wish, or a way of delivering on one.
A patrol car pulled up as she arrived. The passenger side door opened, and Rico Lopez climbed out. “You coming, Pops?” he called into the vehicle.
Val pulled up to a stop next to Rico in time to hear the end of Alex’s response. “...To secure the perimeter,” he said. “We can do that from here and stay in the loop over the radio.”
“Pops,” Rico said, “the guy’s not going to come out and knock on our door.” He rolled his eyes and gave Val a “What can we do?” look.
“Never mind him,” Val said. “What’s the latest? Have they tracked the phone?”
“What phone?” Lopez said.
“My brother’s,” Val said. “Long story.” She gazed up at the six-story building, occupying the entire city block. She guessed it once housed five or six hundred people. An interior search would take hours, if not days.
Jalen and Woodson pulled up in a cruiser moments later. “Another half-dozen units should be here within the next five minutes,” Jalen said. “We can wait him out, if need be.”
“And let him rape my sister-in-law? And, God forbid—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She fumed. No way she would let anything happen to Ali.
“We’re not even sure he’s here,” Jalen said. “If he is, he’s armed and dangerous. We need a plan—and running in headlong doesn’t count.”
With no better suggestion at hand, Val agreed. She paced around the perimeter of the building while additional cruisers filed in and took their positions. After turning the third corner, she spotted the familiar face of an African American kid. She approached him, waving an open palm in the air.
“S’up, Copette?” Dog said when she came within earshot.
“Have you been out here long?” she asked in a friendly tone and accepted his high-five.
“Hour or so. You still looking for that white dude?”
Val started. “Harkins, yeah. Have you seen him?”
Dog pointed at the building. “About twenty minutes ago, in a green car. One of those boxy Euro jobs the white ladies in the burbs drive.”
“A Volvo?” Tension danced in her voice. “Was he alone, or did he have anyone with him?”
“Had a white woman and a little girl with him,” Dog said. “Funny, man. The little chick, she like, five? And she’s wearing a cop uniform. I near to died laughing.”
“Did they go inside? Where’s the car now?” Val knew she shouldn’t pepper him with too many questions at once, but the emotion of the moment got the better of her.
“They parked in that lot there.” Dog pointed to a surface lot across the street. “See that hole in the fence on the end? That‘s where they went in. Dude was yelling at them and shit—uh, sorry. Stuff. Like he was mad at ’em.”
“Would you be able to stay here for a bit?” Val asked, her voice cracking with excitement. When he made a face, she pulled out her wallet. “I’ll pay you. A dollar a minute. Ten bucks now, ten more in twenty minutes. All you have to do is watch this side of the building until our other units arrive. If he comes out again, you come around front and let me know which way he goes. Deal?” She waved a ten at him.
Dog glanced at the bill with a skeptical eye. “Did you ever pay Pope the five hundred?” he asked.
“Dog, I’m paying you half up front,” she said, exasperated. “Come on, you owe me. Remember that time I could’ve busted you? Please?”
He shrugged and snapped the money out of her fingers. “Aright. But I gotta let Pope know.” He tapped a message on his cell phone and gave her a thumbs-up.
She ran around to the front and found Jalen, chatting with Pops and Lopez. “One of the Disciples saw him going inside,” she said in a rush. “We can guard the exits, then sweep the building bottom to top until we find him. But we’ve got to get moving, before he hurts either of them!”
Pops shook his head. “Too risky. He’s armed, and if he chose this spot, it means he knows it better than we do. He could escape, ambush us, or for all we know, finish his business long before we ever spot him. I suggest we wait for reinforcements.”
Val shook her head in disgust, unable to form words. Lopez snorted and spat in the dirt, but said nothing.
Jalen scowled. “Pops, even for you, that’s too conservative,” he said. “We’ve got enough manpower—er, people here to stop him before he hurts someone else. I say we go in.”
“You’re out of your jurisdiction,” Pops said. “As the ranking officer on the scene, I say we wait.”
A squad car pulled up with two more uniforms inside. Brenda Petroni and a thirty-something male cop hustled out to join them.
“I think you’re now outranked,” Jalen said to Pops with a nasty grin.
Val summarized her strategy to Brenda as another car arrived with two more officers, including Ben Peterson.
“Good plan,” Brenda said. “Who’s going in?”
“I’m in,” Val said.
“Me, too,” Lopez said.
“I’ll take Dawes up the back way,” Jalen said. Val nodded and released the snap on her holster.
“Rico and I will take the front,” Brenda said. “We’ll do the odd floors, you take evens. Pops, you take charge of the scene here and cover the exits. Let’s sweep this place clean!”
Chapter Forty-Two
Harkins locked the deadbolt of the disgustingly dirty, abandoned apartment and forced his captives to the rear bedroom. He pushed the woman into the corner and shoved the girl on top of her. The brat hadn’t stopped crying since they’d parked the car, and she’d lost the little-girl charm she’d shown earlier in the evening. Now the woman was bawling, too.
“Quit your belly-aching!” Harkins raised his hand, threatening to strike them. “You’re killing my buzz.” He chuckled at that notion. Nothing could kill this buzz.
“My auntie’s going to come here and shoot you,” the brat said, sitting up. “You’ll be sorry because you’ll be dead—Ow!” His slap dropped her back to a lying position on the filthy carpet, crying louder than ever.
“Don’t touch her!” the woman said, seething. She gathered her daughter in her arms and kissed her head. “She’s just a girl. Don’t you have any decency?”
“I’m much more than decent,” Harkins said with a sneer. “I’m fucking amazing. Literally.” He laughed. “Which you’re about to find out.”
