Progeny (17 page)

He glanced up from his computer. “Kane. What are you doing here so late?”

“Hey, Mueller. I’m just burning the midnight oil on this case. I need a couple things if you have a minute.”

He folded his hands on the top of his desk. “What’s up? You look like you’re ready for bed, by the way.”

I rubbed my eyes. “‘Long day’ doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“What do you need?”

“A statewide BOLO on an Angel White.”

“Do you have an address and tag number?” he asked.

“Um, the address is in Clearwater. The car is a newer silver Ford.”

“Hold on. I’ll look her up.” He typed away at his keyboard. “Oyster Bayou Way?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Silver 2012 Ford Fusion. Florida tag number nine one eight
Z U K
.”

I pulled my notepad and wrote down the tag number in case I needed it later.

Mueller waited for me to finish. “What do we want her for?” he asked.

“Questioning regarding homicides.”

“Statewide, you said?”

“Correct.”

“And you want to be contacted right away, I’m guessing?” he asked.

“Yup.”

He clicked a few more keys and finished with an emphatic click of what I assumed was the Enter button. “Done deal. It’s out. Anything else?”

I shook my head. “That’s it for now. Appreciate it.”

“No sweat.”

I headed to the lunch room to get a coffee. Mueller’s mention of me looking tired must have triggered my brain to the fact that I actually was. My eyes felt heavy. I gave them a hard rub and ran my hand over my head—my fingers bounced over the scars on the side. I figured I had a minimum of another hour that I needed to be alert for—who knew how much longer if I actually found any more leads.

Coffee in hand, I headed down to the tech department on the first floor. The lights were off—no one was inside. I dialed Terry Murphy, and he answered right away.

“Are you there?” he asked.

“I’m standing outside the door.”

“Okay. Four sevens, then a one, then a five.”

I punched the code into the door’s keypad, and the lock clicked. “I’m in.” I pushed the door open and flipped on the lights.

“Head to the back computer, straight ahead.”

I did, pulled out the chair, and wiggled the mouse to wake up the computer. “Ready,” I said.

He guided me through the prompts to get to the cell-phone tracking program. I punched in Angel’s cell-phone number and clicked Search.

“How long does this normally take?” I asked.

“It should give you a result in a couple of minutes. Oh hey, before I forget,” Terry said, “the cell-phone thing must have triggered the thought. So you know how we couldn’t get anything from how those guys up north were tracking your phone?”

“Yeah, you said you couldn’t find anything installed.”

“Well, I was reading a magazine article that had been floating around the office the other day. It was talking about the NSA and how they can spy on your phone calls and that whole topic. Anyway, that part isn’t important, but it got me looking into untraceable software for spying. I found a new company that I want to look into. This actually could be the one, and if it is, it could be troubling.”

“How is that?” I asked.

“All the person needed to do is call you, and you answer. From there, the program runs constantly in the background. It never actually downloads anything, though.”

“How is that troubling?” I asked.

“Well, that depends. How often do you answer phone calls from strange numbers?”

I thought about it. “Rarely,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s the troubling part. It may have come from someone you know. Anyway, like I said, I’m going to look into it further.”

“Sure. Let me know.”

“What’s the progress on your search there?”

I glanced at the screen. “It looks like about halfway,” I said.

“Okay, I need to call that bar manager back quick. Call me back when it kicks you out the results.”

“Will do.” I clicked off and continued staring at the progress bar, moving left to right on the bottom of the computer monitor.

A few minutes passed before a map of the greater Tampa area popped up on the screen. The progress bar was still creeping to the right. I waited. My cell phone rang, and I clicked Talk.

“Hey, it’s Terry. I just had to let the guy know I was finished so he could change his user name and passwords. We have the video. How’s the tracking going? Is it done yet?”

“Still going. I’m watching the progress bar.”

“Good. That means her phone is on. It will narrow it down to a street address. Give it another second.”

The screen moved before my eyes. It zoomed in on the city of Riverview and then a graphic of a thumbtack showed up on the corner of Highway 301 and Big Bend Road.

“Shit! Riverview!” I said.

“What’s so alarming about Riverview?” Terry asked.

“I have a juror that’s out there. I need to call the HCSD.”

“Hold on. Click the satellite view in the lower-right corner of the screen and zoom in. I’m guessing that’s a business if it’s in that area. You should be able to see what it is.”

I clicked the button for the satellite image and then only had to click the zoom once. “McDouglas Fuel Stop. How accurate is this?” I asked.

“Within fifty feet,” Terry said.

“I mean time frame–wise. How old is this information I’m looking at?”

“Oh, it’s real time.”

“Thanks for the help, Terry.” I hung up and immediately dialed the HCSD. The dispatcher picked up.

“Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Department. How may I direct your call?” a man with a deep voice asked.

“Lieutenant Kane from the Tampa Police. I need to be put in contact with the deputy that’s monitoring Maria Flores in Riverview.”

“Um,” he said. “I’d have to put a call out and see. One moment.”

I could hear him calling over the radio. I heard a response but couldn’t make out the words. The dispatcher came back on.

“Deputy Selzer is who you’re looking for. Need his number?”

“Yes.”

The dispatcher gave it to me.

“I also have a BOLO suspect and vehicle in the Riverview area. “The vehicle is a silver 2012 Ford Fusion, tag number nine one eight
Z U K
. Suspect name is Angel White. I’ve been tracking her cell phone. I have her and the vehicle at the McDouglas gas station on the corner of Highway 301 and Big Bend Road.”

“Deputy Selzer just called back from that location.”

The situation hit me like a flood.

“Get word to that deputy! The woman the BOLO is for may be going after the person being monitored!”

“Right away.”

I heard him make the call over the radio.

I yanked myself to the desk the computer sat on. I searched the monitor to make sure Angel White was still at the location. The thumbtack graphic on the area of the gas station was gone. I zoomed out, but it was nowhere. I punched in the phone number from my notepad and had the computer search again. Nothing.

“I need to call you back,” I said and hung up. I dialed Terry, who answered right away.

“Yeah, Kane,” he said.

“The location just disappeared from the screen. What do I do?”

“Did you try to search again? Sometimes it times out.”

“Yeah.”

“What does it say in the bottom-left corner?”

My eyes darted to the bottom of the screen. “No signal.”

“Ugh,” Terry said. “The phone is disabled.”

“Mother—” I bit my lip and held in the endless slew of profanities about to escape my mouth. I gripped my chair’s left arm hard enough that I probably left indentations in the plastic. I let out a quick breath. “I have a possible suspect and possible victim at the same location. Anything we can do, Terry, to get a pinpoint back on this phone?” I asked.

“Keep watching it and see if it comes back on. That’s it, unfortunately.”

“Son of a bitch!” I grumbled and clicked off.

The thought of making the half-hour drive out to Riverview crossed my mind. However, that wouldn’t do any good. Our best chances to catch up with her were with the sheriffs on the scene and me watching the computer screen in front of me for her cell phone to come back on. I dialed the HSCD back, and the dispatcher picked up.

“Hillsborough Count—”

I cut him off. “Lieutenant Kane calling back.”

“Let me see if I can get Deputy Selzer on the radio. One minute, Lieutenant.”

I held. I could hear them calling back and forth over the radio but again couldn’t make out exactly what was being said.

The dispatcher came back on. “Um. You need to call Deputy Selzer on the scene.”

I hung up and dialed the number he’d given me for the deputy.

“Deputy Selzer,” a man answered.

“Lieutenant Carl Kane, TPD Homicide. What’s going on there?”

“I’m driving around the area looking for the vehicle. I have more cars coming. The woman I was monitoring is currently unaccounted for.”

“Unaccounted for!”

I set my phone on the desk and buried my head in my hands. I dug my palms into my eyes and scratched my scalp. I could vaguely hear the deputy talking through the speaker of my phone. I brought it back to my ear and cut him off midsentence. “I’ll be at that gas station in a half hour. Meet me there.” I hung up and went in search of a patrol officer that I could stick on watching the monitor.

I didn’t call Callie on the drive, or Hank, or the captain. I was too tired and angry to have a normal conversation with anyone. Mueller had lent me one of his rookies to watch the screen and let me know if we got a hit on Angel White’s phone.

I exited the freeway on Big Bend Road and drove the mile east to the gas station. I stopped at the intersection the gas station was located on. The sign reading McDouglas Fuel Stop was lit up across and to the right. I saw three HSCD sheriff’s cruisers backed into the lot.

When the light flashed green, I pulled through, entered the lot, and took a parking spot next to the squad cars. The clock on the Cadillac’s dash told me the time was a few minutes after midnight. I stepped out. A deputy was sitting in the cruiser nearest me. Past him, two other cars were empty. I rapped my knuckles on his window, and he lowered it.

I showed him my badge. “Lieutenant Kane, Tampa Homicide. I’m looking for Selzer.”

The deputy raised his window and stepped out of the car. He was a few inches shorter than me, and I had him by fifty pounds. His head was balding on the top though he didn’t look to be much out of his thirties. “I’m Selzer,” he said. “You’re who I spoke to?”

“Correct. Tell me what happened here,” I said.

“I got put on monitoring for my shift—reported here at eleven and swapped out with another deputy. Everything was fine. I walked in and spoke with the woman. She was fine, working behind the counter. I hung around inside for a few minutes before going back out to the cruiser. I was only here for twenty minutes before I got the call that the woman may be in danger from a BOLO suspect. I go back inside to check on her, and she’s gone. I ask the employees. They say she went out back for a smoke a few minutes prior. I check, she’s nowhere to be seen. That’s when I started patrolling, looking for her and the BOLO car. That’s when you called.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I mean, she wasn’t even out of my sight for ten minutes. Less than that. Seven minutes,” he said.

I could tell it was eating at him that the woman disappeared under his watch, so I figured I wouldn’t add to it.

“Do we have anything?” I asked.

“The other two deputies are searching around back now. I was just radioing back to the station, and then I was going to go give them a hand. The employees called in a manager so we could get into the office and get a look at their security footage.”

“Come on.” I motioned for him to follow me. I walked around the side of the gas station with the deputy in tow. At the back, I spotted the other two sheriffs searching the ground with flashlights. Selzer and I walked over to them.

They both aimed the beams of their flashlights at Selzer and me as we approached. I shielded the light from my eyes.

“Lieutenant Kane, Tampa Homicide,” I said as I walked up to the pair.

“I’m Deputy Hirst,” the larger of the two said. He pointed at the other sheriff. “This is Deputy Weaver.” The one named Weaver gave me a nod.

“Did you guys find anything back here?” I asked.

“Well, you’re the detective. You may have a better idea than we do as far as what exactly happened here,” Deputy Hirst said. He stretched his back.

I nodded. “Show me what you found.”

“We can start at the back of the gas station there.” He pointed and headed over.

I followed.

“We got a half-smoked cigarette there, next to what looks like blood.” He shone his flashlight on the area.

I knelt. There was blood, but not a lot.

The beam from his flashlight moved off the area and stopped on the back wall of the gas station near the door.

“We have some more blood there,” he said.

My eyes went to the wall. That bloodstain was about two feet up off the ground.

“The blood drips head in this direction.” He started walking.

I stood and followed, staring at the ground as we walked. I noticed small rocks and white stripes behind them. “Hold on,” I said. “Let me see that flashlight.”

He handed it to me, and I aimed the beam down. The rocks and pebbles had been pulled across the blacktop, causing scratches. I noticed a few more drips of blood. I looked up at the deputies. “She was dragged away. How far does this blood go?” I asked.

“Stops in the parking lot over there.” Hirst jerked his chin toward the area. “There’s a small puddle and then nothing,” he said.

“We found a cell phone in the lot a little ways away from where the blood stops,” Weaver said. “Maybe the woman was trying to call for help.”

Selzer shook his head. “Her cell phone is inside the gas station.”

I stood. “Where’s the phone?” I asked.

“We left it where it lay. I didn’t want to move anything until I got the go-ahead to do so. The phone looks like it’s all busted up, though,” Hirst said.

“Do you guys have anyone from forensics working nights?” I asked.