Determinant (13 page)

“Hey Mel, what’s up?”

“Carl, you should talk to Samantha.”

“And you shouldn’t talk to her about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just wonder why you feel it necessary to talk to my ex-wife about my current girlfriend.”

“She wanted to know about her. I didn’t say anything bad. I just said she was younger.”

“Whatever, Mel. Is there something I can help you with? I’m at work.”

“Just listen to me for a second, Carl.”

I let out a deep breath. My ex-wife getting my sister to plead for her annoyed me to say the least.

“She loves you.”

“I loved her when she decided to cheat on me.”

“People make mistakes.”

“Forgetting to put on deodorant is a mistake. Committing adultery is not. I don’t want to talk about it. How is Tommy?”

“He’s fine. He’d like it better if his aunt and uncle were back together.”

“She’s not his aunt.” Hank walked into my office and took a seat on the couch. I gave him the signal that I’d just be a second. “Look Mel, I have to go.”

“Call me back.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m serious, call me back.”

“Fine, I will.”

I hung up and shook my head.

Hank pointed to the phone. “Let me guess. Sister?”

“Correct.”

He leaned back. “You had a busy night, hey? What the hell time did you go home?”

“I left the scene around nine.”

“Are both Robinson boys in lockup?”

“Yeah.”

“I tried calling you last night around ten. It went straight to voicemail.”

“I turned my phone off. The station has my house number if they needed to reach me.”

“Why did you turn your phone off?”

“Samantha.”

“What did she want?”

I rubbed at my eyes. Unless I told Hank what she wanted he wouldn’t leave it alone. “She told me she was getting a divorce and wanted to get back together.”

He flipped his leg onto his knee. “And you said?”

“Not a chance. After that she wanted to try to argue with me about it. I didn’t have any interest in arguing with her so I turned off my phone. She doesn’t know my house number.”

“Whoa. So you had your new girlfriend tell you she loved you, followed by the fact that she was pregnant. And after all that, your ex-wife tells you she’s getting a divorce and wants to get back together?”

“That is correct. With a few homicides sprinkled in.”

“Sounds fun. You listen to my message.”

“No. I’m sure it’s sandwiched in between the ones from Sam.”

“You need to listen to it. I slipped a few good zingers in there. So what did you want to run past me?”

“Check this out.” I grabbed the photos from the restaurant.

Hank got up, walked over and sat across from me.

“What am I looking at? Oh, this is from the restaurant?”

I pointed out the tattoos. “That might be the same guy we’re looking for on the other case.”

Hank scrunched his face. “You think that’s the same guy?”

“Well, we either need to find one or two guys that match the same description.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, we know where he was on two dates at two locations. If we could get video and put the same vehicle at both spots, we’d have what he was driving. If we got a plate, it would lead us to a name and address.”

“That’s going to require some manpower. Where do you want to start?”

“The last place where Jenny Cartwright was seen—Frank’s. We’ll start there and try to find anything we can from neighboring businesses.”

Hank nodded. “We already looked for video around there though.”

“We’ll go further in each direction. Cap says whatever it takes. After Frank’s, we’ll start with everything around Tamboro’s. I’ll deal with getting the guys. You want to go take these photos and drop them by Sam? Have him get something together to distribute these images to the press. I’m going to call over to Timmons and see if he can lend us some unis to give us a hand. Meet me back here and we’ll head out.”

“Alright.” Hank picked up the photos and left.

I dialed Timmons. He gave me four officers until their shifts ended at 3:00 p.m. It would be enough time to get the ball rolling. I sat behind my desk and waited for Hank to come back. I figured I’d weed through Samantha’s messages. My cell phone in hand, I clicked the button to go to my voicemail. The first message played. Sam yelled about me hanging up on her. I hit delete. The next message was her apologizing for yelling. I hit delete. I listened to bits and pieces of the next few. They were her begging to talk. They all got deleted. The next message started. I heard a high pitched voice asking if I could change their diaper. It was Hank. He went on for a few minutes. I shook my head, smiled and deleted it. More messages from Sam followed. They were all erased. I got to the last message and was about to hit delete. I stopped with my finger on the button. It wasn’t Sam. It was a woman whispering. I looked at my phone. The message came from Callie at 4:41 a.m. I turned the volume as high as it would go.

Callie screamed.

“Drop it,”
A man’s voice said. He had an accent.

“Don’t hurt me I’m pregnant.”
It was Callie.

“Where’s the case?”
the man asked.

“I don’t have it.”

“Don’t lie to me. Where is it?”

There was a muffling of the phone.

“Viktor Azarov! Viktor Azarov!”
Callie shouted.

I heard a noise. The message ended.

I hung up and called her phone. It went straight to her voicemail. She didn’t have a home phone. I replayed the message to catch the whispering at the beginning. The message started.

“Carl, there’s someone in my house. I’m hiding in the bathroom. They’re just outside my bedroom. I’m going to hang up and call 9-1-1.”

The rest of the message played. I wrote down the name she shouted and tried calling her again. It went to voicemail. I grabbed my keys from my desk and headed for the door.

Hank stopped me in the hall. “Where’s the fire?”

“Someone was in Callie’s house last night. She tried calling me. I can’t get a hold of her. She yelled a name, Viktor Azarov.”

“Never heard of him. You going to her house?”

“Yeah.” I went past him down the hall.

“You want me to go with?”

I walked backward and spoke. “Get going on what we were talking about. Timmons is giving us four guys. Check with him. I’ll call you.”

I turned and pushed open the doors that led out to the parking structure. The key fob in my pocket unlocked the Corvette’s doors. I got in my car and fired the motor. I called District Two.

“Tampa Police Department non-emergency line. How can I help you?”

“This is Lieutenant Kane from District Three. Did you get a 9-1-1 call around quarter to five this morning?”

“Let me check.” The sound of her typing came through the ear piece. “Nothing reported or dispatched, Lieutenant. Last 9-1-1 call was a commercial break in at 3:36 a.m. We haven’t had one since.”

“Can you dispatch a car to 1186 Landcastle Drive? I believe there was a home invasion there last night. I’m on my way there now.”

“Family?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll get a car out now. I’ll let them know you’ll be arriving.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up and put my foot into the gas. I didn’t have lights installed on my Corvette yet. If a sheriff came after me down the freeway I’d have to call into their station and hope they relayed the message. I’d take my chances. I wove through cars out of Tampa on I-4 until I hit I-75 North. There was minimal traffic. I took the Corvette well over a hundred miles per hour. I exited the freeway. After speeding down a few surface streets, I got to the entrance of Callie’s subdivision.

I pulled to the box and thumbed in the entry code. The gates creaked and rattled as they allowed me through. I sped two blocks down and made a right. I pulled to the curb in front of Callie’s and slid to a stop. A police cruiser from District Two sat across the street. The officer wasn’t inside. I jogged to the front door and kicked the welcome mat to the side. The key was still there. I pulled my service weapon and unlocked the house.

The officer walked from around the side of the house. “Excuse me, Sir?” he asked.

I looked to him. He appeared fresh out of the academy. He saw my weapon and drew his. “Drop the weapon!”

“I’m Lieutenant Kane from District Three. Get your ass up here and back me up.”

My badge hung from my neck. He must have caught a glimpse of it and came behind me at the front door.

“Is this your house?” he asked.

“Girlfriend’s.” I put my index finger over my mouth to get him to zip it. I pushed the front door open and pointed inside. “Let’s go.”

I looked at his nameplate. His last name was Brander.

I stood at the shattered doorway of the master bathroom. Splinters of the door sill lay scattered on the floor. The door’s interior knob was embedded into the wall. We cleared the house. Officer Brander and I were alone inside. The sinking feeling in my gut grew stronger with each passing minute. I failed Callie. My phone should have been on. She should have been with me.

“Call this in. Get some guys out here,” I said.

Officer Brander made the call.

I spent twenty minutes searching the house for anything resembling a clue as to what happened. Aside from the damaged bathroom, there was nothing. I searched the house for anything that would tell me where she’d been taken—again nothing. As soon as the other officers arrived I headed back to the station. I left the crew at her house with strict orders to call me if they uncovered anything.

I listened to Callie’s message again. The name, Viktor Azarov, was committed to memory. I dialed Timmons in Patrol to see what he could find on him.

“Sergeant Timmons.”

“Timmons, it’s Kane. I need you to pull a sheet.”

“Name?”

“Viktor Azarov.”

“Spelling?”

“Don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll try a couple different ways. That last name sounds Russian. One second.”

I could hear typing.

“Got him. He’s flagged. Says here to call Lieutenant Harrington at Miami Dade PD. Want me to make the call?”

“I’ll do it. I’m only a few minutes out. Send the sheet over to my email.”

I pulled my car into the structure and headed inside to my office. I clicked at my computer to get the sheet from my email. There was a photo and a short bio. He had a few questionable priors. The rap sheet was thin. I called the lieutenant in Miami. He wasn’t in the building. Their dispatch put me through to his cell phone.

“Lieutenant Harrington.”

“This is Lieutenant Kane from TPD Homicide. What can you tell me about a Viktor Azarov? I need to find him.”

“Azarov? What’s going on?”

I told him what happened.

“Well, I’m out at a scene right now. Let me put the word out and see if we can pick him up. I’ve been trying to get this guy for the last couple of years. I just can’t get anything to stick.”

“What can you tell me?”

“He’s a Russian business man with questionable dealings. The guy has even more questionable associates. Rival business owners disappearing—lots of money coming in and out. The guy reeks of organized crime.”

“Are you guys keeping eyes on him?”

“We can’t. His lawyers threatened to sue our department for harassment. We can never get anything concrete. Any time we think we have a witness, they’ll either stop cooperating or vanish.”

“Does this guy have associates Tampa?”

“I’m sure he does. I’ll get someone back at the station send you over everything on him right away. Let me get the email to send it to.”

I gave him my email address.

“Got it. This number good to get back in touch with you if we get him picked up?”

“This number is fine. If I’m not at my desk, my office voicemail has my mobile number.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the help.” I was about to hang up.

“Lieutenant?” he asked.

I pulled the phone back to my ear. “Still here.”

“Find her as soon as you can. When people disappear around this guy, they’re not found.”

His warning didn’t do anything to help my state of mind. “I’ll find her.” I hung up.

My fingers tapped the surface of my desk waiting for the file. I hit refresh. I knew it wouldn’t hit my inbox for another ten minutes at the earliest. Someone had my girlfriend. Someone had my pregnant girlfriend. I ground my teeth and hit refresh again. Nothing. I wouldn’t let myself think of an outcome where I didn’t find her. I clenched my fists and brought them down into the armrests of my desk chair.

The captain knocked and my door and walked in.

“Hank said something happened with Callie. What’s going on?”

I took a minute to calm myself before answering. “Someone took her from her house early this morning.”

“Took her? What? Abducted her? What do we know?”

“All I know is she called me in the middle of the night and said someone was in her house. She said a name, Viktor Azarov. I went there. The upstairs bathroom door had been kicked in, and she’s nowhere to be found.”

“Viktor Azarov?”

“That’s the name she said.”

“Who is he? What did you find?”

“Russian organized crime from Miami. Lieutenant at Miami Dade is sending me the file.”

“How is she connected?”

“I’m not sure. She’s from Miami. The guy on the phone asked her where some case was?”

“Guy on the phone?”

“Here.”

I pulled up the message from my voicemail and played it for the captain.

He listened. He wrinkled his face and scratched at his mustache. “You probably don’t want to hear this but I have to say it.”

“I’m listening.”

“She is or was involved with this Azarov somehow.”

“I got that, Cap.”

“Did you ever pull her sheet?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should do that while you wait for that file to come. I’m going to run this by the major and see how he wants to proceed.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an abduction. We have proof of it. She’s missing. Protocol on that says we contact the Feds.”