The Deceiving Look (Shepard & Gray), page 21
The girl looked at the picture and said, “Haven’t seen her.”
“How long have you been here tonight?”
“Since like four.”
“You sure you would recognize her? She’d probably be much more dolled up than this.”
“I mean, maybe not. I don’t know. But I’ve seated everyone here, and I haven’t seen her.”
“Would you mind showing the photo around to the other staff and seeing if any of them saw her?”
“Sure.”
Billie got her number and texted her the image. The girl said she would be right back and disappeared into the back. When she came out, Billie could see her going to each server and busser and showing them the picture.
“Nobody’s seen her,” she said when she returned to the front.
Billie thought a moment. “Did you have any single men tonight that were expecting someone that didn’t show up?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think so, no. I’d probably remember that.”
Billie exhaled. “Well, thank you for your help.”
“No problem.”
Billie went outside and back to Mazie’s car. She brought up the flashlight again and went around the car slowly, knowing what she was looking for but hoping she wouldn’t find it: blood. But there was nothing.
She called into dispatch and told them to issue a BOLO call for Deputy Mazie Heaton.
38
Solomon stirred from his sleep, and his eyes fluttered open. Disorientation set in as he tried to remember where he was. Slowly, he realized he was on his living room couch, still dressed in the clothes he wore yesterday.
He groaned and rubbed his face, feeling the dull throb of a headache behind his eyes. He’d had a dream that he was standing at his mother’s grave. The first time he’d seen her grave, he’d been in foster care already for years. One day, he’d snuck out of school and taken the bus to the cemetery, which was situated in the midst of a quiet residential neighborhood, flanked by a bustling rec center on one side and a vast expanse of well-manicured baseball fields on the other.
Solomon had trudged through the cemetery, feeling the crunch of snow under his feet. The gravestones were all neatly arranged. It was hard to believe that his mother’s final resting place was in such a mundane and unremarkable location. But then, he supposed, his mother’s life had been anything but remarkable. He couldn’t remember much about her except for the bruises and the shouting matches with his father.
The moment he had seen her grave, he knew it was hers. She liked a certain type of flower, marigolds, and there were some marigolds withered and dry near her gravestone. He bent down and touched them, letting his young fingers feel the texture of the dead flowers. When he pulled his hand away, he burst into tears.
He couldn’t remember how long he had sat by his mother’s grave and cried, but when he was done, he left, and never went back.
Solomon used his cane to stand and stretched his back. His leg was swollen from all the recent use, and he went to the bathroom and got out some ibuprofen, then swallowed it down with water from the faucet. He glanced at his anxiety medication but didn’t take any. It slowed his thinking down, and right now, he couldn’t afford that.
He turned on the Nokia phone. There were no messages. He had bought a power cord that fit it and plugged it in while he checked his own phone. There was a single message from Billie:
Mazie is missing.
Solomon arrived at Kaiso Sushi around nine in the morning. The sun was just coming up, casting a warm glow on the surrounding buildings and melting the last remnants of frost on the ground. As he stepped out of the Uber, a fierce wind suddenly whipped through the parking lot, picking up bits of snow and stinging his cheeks. Solomon pulled his jacket tighter around him, flipping up the collar for protection against the biting cold. He braced himself and trudged toward the scene.
Forensic techs and a detective were searching Mazie’s car while a tow truck waited nearby. Billie was still there, pacing in front of the restaurant with a phone glued to her ear. Solomon approached her and waited.
Solomon looked over to Mazie’s car when Billie was off the phone and said, “How long?”
“Best we can tell, she arrived here around seven, got out of her car, and no one saw her again. She didn’t make it into the restaurant.”
“You’ve checked all the surrounding businesses for video?”
She nodded. “And my detectives are tracking down anybody that could’ve seen anything. We’ll find her, Solomon,” she said, sensing panic.
He wondered what his face must be revealing for her to say that.
The odd thing was he felt nothing. Not panic, not sadness, not anger . . . nothing. Almost like he was drifting above the ground observing what was going on but not really understanding it.
“It’s not your fault, Solomon.”
Solomon tapped his cane and looked down. “Yes it is.”
Billie’s phone rang, and she answered.
Solomon went closer to the car and watched two techs going over everything inside with a black light. They wore dark glasses that would help them see any bodily fluids that may have spattered or spilled, even if there had been an attempt to clean it up.
The detective supervising them was Greg Parsons. He wore latex gloves but didn’t actually touch the car. He held a flashlight up and ran it along the ground.
“Any cameras?” Solomon said.
Greg glanced up at him, and Solomon expected him to say something like he couldn’t discuss an ongoing investigation with a civilian, but instead he said, “No CCTV, no traffic lights. Checked with the businesses that are open and nothing. A few of them are opening soon, though.”
Solomon acknowledged Parsons’s unspoken message with a subtle nod. Glancing across the street to a row of storefronts, he knew what Parsons meant when he said some of the stores are opening soon. It was his way of giving Solomon a warning to act quickly. Despite the implied threat, Solomon appreciated Parsons’s understanding and knew he could count on him to look the other way for a while longer.
Solomon headed across the street toward a row of storefronts, a small barber shop with a faded red-and-white pole twirling outside, a quaint boutique selling luxurious soaps and bath gels with an inviting aroma wafting out onto the street, a busy bagel shop where a line was already forming outside, a bustling deli with fresh sandwich boards on display, and a curious little store called Hometown CBD that was painted in bright greens and yellows, displaying a range of CBD and mild cannabis products, which had recently been legalized in Utah.
Solomon waited on the street corner for the light to turn. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him and turned to see Billie walking up, her footsteps muffled by the noise of the morning traffic around them.
“Where to?”
He motioned with his head to the other side of the street. “Parsons didn’t check all the businesses yet. Some of them were closed when he went to ask about cameras.”
“Solomon—”
“If you’re about to tell me this isn’t my problem or to go home, Billie—”
“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say just have a police officer with you if you talk to somebody. Please. For me.”
“Okay. You’re a police officer, so come with me.”
The light turned, and they began to cross.
Billie said, “I’m guessing bath gels aren’t a hot commodity on a thief’s wish list. Which stores were you thinking might have surveillance?”
“The CBD place is the only one that has products expensive enough to justify twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
Solomon had an image enter his mind as they got to the other side of the street. Mazie lying on top of bloodstained sheets, her eyes the milky white of the dead.
“Billie,” he said with a tremor in his voice, “do you ever feel like everything you touch turns to shit?”
His words hung heavily in the air, the weight of despair and hopelessness evident in his tone. Billie knew exactly what he meant, the feeling of being trapped in a cycle of failure that seemed impossible to break.
Without hesitation, she stopped and placed a gentle hand on his arm and spoke with conviction. “You are not cursed.”
They locked eyes for a moment before Billie pulled away, and they continued crossing the street in silence.
Hometown CBD had two floors and looked like it had once been an army/navy store. Some Halloween decorations were still up, a few lifelike skeletons with spiders crawling on them. The store had just opened, and there were no customers yet, but two employees were busy restocking and tidying up.
Billie asked for the owner, a tall Korean man named Ernie with glasses and wavy black hair. She showed her badge and explained why they were there.
Solomon put both hands on his cane. He watched quietly as Billie said, “Do you have any cameras aimed out toward Kaiso?”
Solomon felt his chest tighten as Ernie glanced at both of them.
“Yeah, we should. We have two interior cameras facing that way.”
As he got on the phone with his security company to request the footage, Solomon turned to Billie and said, “Interior cameras facing out are extra. I could marry this guy for not being a cheapskate.”
“There might not be anything on it. I would hold off on the wedding plans for a bit.”
Within minutes, Ernie had the security footage from all their outward-facing cameras on a link on his phone. Billie had him forward it to the computer analyst at the sheriff’s office, and Solomon asked if he could view it.
It was clear footage, nothing grainy, and in high definition. Solomon said, “This is some top-notch gear.”
“The extra money’s worth a good night’s sleep for me. You’d be amazed how many people try to burglarize us. They think that the cops don’t take break-ins at cannabis stores as seriously, and they’re right. But you people are lucky my father was a police officer and taught me to respect the law, so I’m going to help you.”
“We won’t say no,” Solomon said.
For several minutes, they stayed quiet as Ernie fast-forwarded the video.
“Stop right there,” Solomon said. “Back up a little.”
The video caught Kaiso from a distance, but it was clear enough to see Mazie’s silver Honda pulling into the lot. Ernie magnified the video on his phone, and they could see Mazie in the driver’s seat, parked facing the restaurant. She was checking herself in the rearview mirror. Solomon stole a quick glance at Billie, whose face was passive.
Mazie got out of her car and started walking toward the restaurant. Only a few feet away from her car, a figure appeared seemingly out of the dark between two parked cars.
The figure made a sudden move. From his pocket, he retrieved a rag or cloth and swiftly wrapped it around Mazie’s mouth. With surprising force, he pulled her into the shadows of the dimly lit parking lot, where the camera’s view couldn’t reach. Solomon watched in horror as Mazie disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness.
“Play it again,” Billie said coolly.
The figure was in a black coat, long sleeves hanging down past the fingers. The hood obscured his face in shadows, leaving only a hint of a jawline and a slight curve of a nose. His movements were quick and precise, like a predator moving in for the kill. Solomon strained to see any other details, but the figure was shrouded in darkness.
The two didn’t come back into view.
Solomon swung his cane and bashed it into a display. “Damn it!” he shouted before storming out.
Billie’s jaw muscles tightened, and she had to focus on them to get them to relax. “Thank you for your help,” she said calmly before walking out and catching up to Solomon, the owner saying something behind her about paying for the display.
The morning sun shone down on Billie and Solomon, casting a pale light on everything around them. Billie noticed the way Solomon’s eyes darted back and forth as if he was trying to focus on something but couldn’t. She knew that he was struggling with the image of Mazie being taken, and it was affecting him deeply. She decided to give him some space and stood quietly next to him outside at the curb as he watched the traffic for a few minutes.
When they got back to the station, Solomon and Billie headed straight for the computer forensics lab. The small room was crammed with three techs, each hunched over a monitor. Billie approached them and asked them to analyze the video in excruciating detail, to dissect it frame by frame and extract every shred of information they could find. Solomon watched over their shoulders as the techs got to work, his heart racing with anticipation and dread.
On the video, about ten minutes after Mazie arrived, Solomon noticed a man park a GMC truck and get out. He was tall with curly brown hair and stood outside the restaurant. He kept checking his phone, placing a call and several texts. Then he went inside, spent a few minutes in there, and then got into his truck and left.
“How much you wanna bet that’s the date,” Solomon said.
Billie said to one of the techs, “Can you get the plate?”
He hit a few keys, and the screen widened and focused. Solomon saw the license plate in full, clear view. He looked at Billie and smiled.
39
The owner of the car was Joel Walco, and he lived in a condominium not far from the station. He was thirty-two, college education at the University of Georgia, and something that gave Solomon a little shiver of excitement when he found out: he worked at the Utah State Crime Lab and just happened to have been at Solomon’s house when Roger had been found.
Solomon and Billie parked the car in a designated spot and got out. The crunch of snow under their shoes was the only sound in the air.
“This is the kind of place divorced middle-aged men move to when they get busted having an affair,” he said.
“That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s just the vibe I’m getting . . . loneliness.”
Solomon followed Billie up the stairs, feeling his leg burn with each step. When they reached the second floor, they found the unit they were looking for. Billie knocked, and after a few moments, the door opened to reveal the man they had seen on the video.
He was handsome and had a look of being a mix of Lebanese or Mediterranean. He smiled as he said, “Can I help you?”
“Joel Walco?”
“Yes.”
She showed him her badge. “We need to speak with you.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, of course. Come in.”
As they stepped into the condo, the small space revealed itself in full. The kitchen was pressed up against one wall, a small dining table and chairs were in the center of the room, and a worn-out couch faced a flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. The entire area had a stale, musky smell to it. A set of sliding glass doors led to a small balcony that overlooked the complex courtyard. A brand-new barbecue sat there, untouched, alongside empty beer bottles that were strewed about. Solomon noticed that the grill itself was completely clean, with no trace of any previous use or char marks.
“You guys want anything to drink? I got orange juice and Coke.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Billie said.
“I’ll take a Coke.”
“Diet or regular?”
“Regular. YOLO.”
Joel grinned as he went to the fridge and got the Coke.
He came back and handed Solomon the drink. Billie was staring at a painting the size of a poster. It was a disturbing image of a distorted figure with elongated limbs and a twisted face, a background of dark, swirling colors. Solomon felt uneasy looking at the painting, as if it was somehow alive and watching him.
“So what’s this about?” Joel said, sitting on the couch.
“Did you have a date with Mazie Heaton last night?”
“I did, but she didn’t show up. Why?”
“We have reason to believe she was kidnapped before her date with you.”
He looked shocked. “You’re kidding?”
“Afraid not.”
“I mean, she’s a police officer, right? She mentioned that to me. I didn’t hear anything about it on the news,” Joel said.
“We’re keeping everything close to the chest,” Billie replied, turning to face him. She settled into the couch, while Solomon remained standing against the wall. His leg throbbed with a fiery pain that only intensified with each step, and he didn’t want to risk aggravating it further by moving.
“So what do you do?” Solomon asked like he didn’t know.
“I’m a systems programmer for the crime lab.”
“Oh yeah?”
Billie said, “I don’t think we’ve run across each other before.”
“No, I’ve only been with them a few weeks, actually. I transferred down from Boise PD. They had to cut some of the IT department, so all the new guys got the axe. Worked out for the best, though. I mean, besides all this. Do you have any idea who could’ve taken her?”
Billie said, “We have some idea. But you were the last person to speak with her.”
He leaned back now, his eyes going wider. “Oh, okay. I see what this is. Well, look, I went straight to the restaurant from work, and you can check that. I like Mazie. I mean, this is just . . . I’ve never experienced anything like this.”
Billie said, “Why don’t you tell us exactly what you remember?”
He shrugged. “We met at a coffee shop and had a date set up for last night at seven at Kaiso, this sushi restaurant. I told her I would meet her in front of the restaurant, but I waited almost half an hour, and she never showed.”
“Is there anything you remember that was unusual? Did she mention someone odd, or was there anybody that seemed to be watching you two when you were speaking? Anything at all?”
He thought a moment. “I don’t think it’s anything.”
Solomon said, “How about we judge that.”
Joel glanced between them. “There was a guy at the coffee shop where we met. He kept looking at her. I noticed him before I noticed her because it was odd the way he was staring at her.”
