Brett Battles - Little Girl Gone
“Forbus Systems International. How may I direct your call?”
Hearing the words, he hesitated.
“How may I direct your call?” the voice said again.
“Uh, Ruth Bobick, please.”
“One moment.”
He was put on hold, and subjected to fifteen seconds worth of Forbus promotional propaganda, complete with patriotic music and what sounded like the crackling of fireworks.
“Ruth Bobick.”
He hesitated again hearing the voice of his old friend, knowing he could still hang up if he wanted to, but, instead, he said, “Hi, Ruth.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Logan.”
There was a long pause. “Oh, Christ. Are you trying to get me into trouble or something?”
When Logan had worked with Carl at Forbus, Ruth had been their main contact whenever they were out in the field leading training sessions. She and Logan had always gotten along well. When the powers-that-be took him down after Carl was killed, it would have been easy for him to drag Ruth along with him, but he hadn’t.
“I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”
“Well, you know you’re not exactly on the top ten most popular list around here.”
“It’s been more than two years. I would think everyone would have moved on.”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, some people have long memories.” She paused. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. You?”
“Fine.” Another pause. “Are you still in…”
“Cambria? Yeah.”
“Working at the garage?” she asked as if the question itself was ridiculous.
“Yep.”
“You know, if you’re looking for something else new, I’ve got friends around the industry, and could probably pull a few strings. It wouldn’t be what you’ve done in the past, but it would have to be better than working in a garage.”
“I like the garage, Ruth. But thanks.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
“So, are you calling just to say hi?” she asked.
“I’m calling because…” He paused. “Because I need a favor.”
“You are trying to get me in trouble.”
“It’s not a big deal. I just need a license plate checked.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Someone piss you off and you’re trying to track them down?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s the number?”
Logan gave her the plate number of the sedan he’d chased out of Cambria, then told her his cell number since it was different from the one he used to have.
“Mine’s still the same,” she said. “But don’t use it unless it’s an emergency, and, please, don’t call me on the office phone again.”
“In other words, don’t call you?”
“It would be better if I called you.”
“I understand. I appreciate the help, Ruth.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused, not hanging up, then said, “I’m…I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
“I haven’t been in touch either.”
“Yeah, but…well…sorry.”
He could sense she wanted to say something more, but before she could he said, “I’ll wait for your call,” then hung up.
10
Traffic began building up on Washington Boulevard as Logan neared the ocean. It seemed strange to him. As far as he could tell, the area was mainly residential, so he figured most of the cars at that time of morning should have been heading in the other direction. But the closer he got to Pacific Avenue, the more congested it became. Then, two blocks short of where he’d been planning to turn, he came to a complete stop.
After the car in front of him made a U-turn and headed back in the other direction, he decided to do the same, then turned on the first side street he saw and parked. From there, it was only a few minutes walk to Aaron’s place.
Before he reached the intersection with Pacific, the reason for the delay became clear. Two police cars were pulled across the road, blocking off Pacific Avenue north of Washington.
Logan felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck, and picked up his pace. When he reached the corner, he spotted several emergency vehicles parked just down the block. He could also see half a dozen fire fighters rolling up hoses and packing equipment back onto their trucks, their work apparently done.
Like the street, the sidewalk that ran in front of Aaron’s place was also blocked, but the one on the other side only had a small area taped off directly across from the fire trucks. Some people were gathered along the part that was clear, watching the action, so Logan headed there.
In his gut, he already knew what he was going to see, and he wasn’t disappointed. Where Aaron’s little house—his bungalow—had been, there was now a charred pile of debris. The side that had once been part of the property wall was gone, leaving a gaping hole. Logan could see the rest of the property through it. Though it looked like the fire had spread, the other buildings appeared to have received only minor damage.
Apparently, just cleaning the house hadn’t been enough for Aaron. He’d decided to burn the place down to make sure there was no trace of him left. Logan had no proof of this, of course, but once again, he wasn’t buying the coincidence.
Moving further down the sidewalk to get a better look, he could see that there was no part of the bungalow left untouched by the flames. If Aaron had left anything behind that could have helped Logan find Elyse, it was completely destroyed now.
Logan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Expecting it to be Ruth, he was surprised to see his dad’s name on the display.
“What?” he asked, not in a particularly talkative mood.
“What was Elyse’s boyfriend’s address? Don’t think you gave that to me.”
Logan eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Well…em…when I told Tooney what you said when you called last night, he wanted to come down and see it himself. We couldn’t talk him out of it.”
“So you let him go?”
“Of course not. He’s in no condition to drive. We came with him.”
Logan whipped his head around, looking at the crowd on the sidewalk. “Where are you?”
“Sitting in Barney’s car.”
“Dad! Where specifically?”
“Oh, we’re stuck in traffic on…”
Barney spoke up in the distance. “Washington Boulevard.”
“Washington Boulevard,” he repeated. “Down by the beach. Venice, I guess.”
“You guys should have just stayed at home,” Logan told him.
“I’m sorry! You tell Tooney that.”
Logan closed his eyes for a second. “Never mind. Just…just tell Barney to pull over and park anywhere he can. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
Harp’s voice became distant. “Logan’s here. Says for you to find some place to park and he’ll meet us.”
“Call me when you’ve found a spot and tell me where you are.”
Logan hung up and headed back to Washington, arriving just in time to see Barney’s Volvo make the same U-turn he had earlier. Only instead of parking on a side street, Barney pulled into the lot of a strip mall, and found a space there.
Logan weaved between the cars and crossed to the other side. Just as he was walking up to Barney’s car, his cell started to ring again.
His dad was in the front passenger seat, phone to his ear, so Logan tapped on his window. Harp turned in surprise, then smiled, and hung up.
“Hi, son,” he said as he opened his door.
Logan gave him a quick hug.
“Have you found her?” Tooney asked. He was stretched out on the backseat, a grimace on his face.
“Still looking,” Logan said, wishing he had a better answer.
“Scoot. Scoot,” Harp told his son, shooing Logan out of his way so he could get out.
Once his father closed the door behind him, Logan said, “Tooney shouldn’t be traveling. What were you guys thinking?”
“He was coming with or without us. Better with, don’t you think?”
“You couldn’t have done anything to stop him?”
“He was very insistent.”
On the other side of the car, Barney was helping Tooney get out. Harp used this as an excuse to end the conversation, and headed around the car to join them. Logan watched his dad for a moment, then followed.
Looking out at the traffic, Barney said, “This is why Glenda and I moved out of the city. Where are all these people going?”
“The road’s blocked up ahead,” Logan said.
“Accident?” Harp asked.
“Something like that.”
A ten year old Cadillac pulled into the lot, and stopped right next to them. The driver’s window rolled down, and Logan could see Jerry behind the wheel, and a few others inside.
“Jesus, I thought we’d lost you,” Jerry said.
Logan looked at his dad. “What? Did you bring everyone?”
“Just Barney and Jerry,” he said. “The rest of those guys are protection.”
“Just park right there,” Barney told Jerry, pointing at an empty spot two cars down.
“Protection?” Logan asked.
His father shrugged like it was no big deal.
Jerry and the three guys who’d been riding with him walked over a few moments later.
“Logan, this is Ken, Jack and Dev,” he said.
They were big guys, tough looking, like Hollywood’s idea of a biker gang, if the members of that gang were all over sixty. As Logan shook their hands, he said, “I think I’ve seen you guys around town.”
“Probably,” Dev said.
Harp leaned over and whispered, “They’re in the VFW. Marines in ’Nam. They know what they’re doing.”
“And what exactly are they supposed to be doing?” Logan asked, not lowering his voice.
“Later.”
Before Logan could push any further, Tooney said, “I want you to show me where this boyfriend lived. I want to see what you saw.”
“I’m not exactly sure he was her boyfriend.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s a little confusion between her friends about that.”
Tooney looked at Logan for a moment. “This boy, his house is near, though.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Show it to me.”
“That’s going to be a little difficult.”
“Why?”
“The reason the street up there is blocked off? The house he lived in burned down sometime in the night.”
“What?” Tooney, Jerry and Barney all said at once.
“But you were there late last night. That’s what you told me,” Logan’s dad said. “What time was that?”
“Around midnight. A lot of hours between then and morning for someone to light a match.”
They all fell silent, then Tooney said, “I still want to see it.”
Logan frowned, but nodded. What choice did he have?
He led them back to Pacific Avenue, glancing over his shoulder a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t walking too fast. They were keeping up just fine, his dad and Barney at the head of the group and Jerry at the rear. Tooney was in the middle, surrounded by the Cambria Marine Corp.
Some of the excitement on Pacific had dissipated by the time they reached the spot where Logan had been standing earlier. Two of the fire trucks had left, and it looked like the police were getting ready to open one of the traffic lanes.
“Don’t tell me that’s it,” Harp said. He was staring at the pile of burned wreckage across the street.
“I did say it burned down.”
“But you said you were inside it last night. That it was empty.”
“What part of this aren’t you understanding, Dad? Do you see the fire engine? Do you see the police? This only happened a few hours ago.”
“So you were able to get inside,” Barney said.
“Do you guys think I was lying?”
“No, of course not.”
“Definitely not,” Jerry added.
Logan looked at his father, waiting.
When Harp finally felt his gaze, he said, “What?”
Logan shook his head. “Nothing.”
Tooney hadn’t said a word since they got there, his full attention on what was left of the bungalow.
Logan squeezed by one of the marines, and stepped beside him. “You okay?”
“There was nothing inside?” Tooney asked.
“No. It was spotless.”
“Do you think this fire could have been an accident?”
“No way to know that for sure.”
Tooney turned to Logan, his eyes suddenly hard. “I did not ask what you know. I ask what you think.”
Looking back at the house, Logan said, “It seems kind of convenient to be an accident.” He could feel Tooney’s gaze a moment longer, then the older man turned away.
“What are you going to do now?”
Logan took a breath, and let his eyes drift along the perimeter the police had set up. It was like a big, half-circle jutting out from the properties neighboring the scene of the fire, and curving across the street to their side. It was marked off with yellow tape held in place by police cars strategically parked in the middle of the road.
“I got the names of two of your daughter’s friends. I’m going to see if either of them might know anything helpful.”
“Who are these friends?”
“A guy named Anthony, and a girl,” Logan said, then paused to recall her name. “Lara Mendonca.”
Tooney nodded.
“You know them?”
“I’ve heard Elyse mention them before.”
“Do you know Anthony’s last name?”
Tooney’s nod turned into a shake. “No. If she say, I don’t remember.”
That would have been helpful, but not the end of the world. “I was thinking I could get it from their—”
Logan fell silent as he caught a glimpse of a man in the crowd across the street, beyond the taped-off area on the far side.
“Tooney,” he said. “How’s your eyesight?”
“My eyesight? It’s okay.”
“Very casually, I want you to look at that group of people on the other side of the emergency crews. There’s a man near the wall, wearing a dark sports coat.” Logan waited until Tooney was facing the right direction. “Do you see him?”
There was no immediate response.
“Tooney,” Logan urged.
“I see him.”
By the tremble in his voice, Logan knew Tooney had also made the same connection he had.
“Get back to the cars,” Logan said loud enough for them all to hear.
“What’s going on?” Dev asked. He seemed to be the Marine in charge.
“Take them someplace where they can get some breakfast,” Logan whispered. “But make sure no one follows you.”
“Trouble?”
“Possibly.”
Dev nodded. “Let’s go guys.”
Harp looked at Logan. “Why? We just got here.”
“I don’t have time to get into it,” Logan told him. “Just do what Dev says.”
“What are you going to—”
“Dad, do it!”
His father’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Okay. Sure. If you think we should.”
As soon as they walked off, Logan glanced back at the man across the street. The same man who’d held a gun to Tooney’s head the previous morning.
11
