Progeny (19 page)

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” he said.

“Come on. The scene is back here.” I waved for him to follow.

“Let me just grab my kit.” Rick walked to the trunk of his car, popped the lid, and removed his box of supplies. He slammed the trunk closed with his free hand and headed over to me.

We rounded the building to the back.

“The attack happened at the back door there,” I said. “It looked like an elbow to the face, followed by a kick, and then the victim’s face was slammed into the back wall there. We have it on video inside, so you can take a look if you’d like.”

“I’ll check it out after,” Rick said. “What do you think is going to be the best thing for me to get on that could maybe point us in the right direction?”

“The phone. It looked like our attacker used it as a prop,” I began walking.

Rick followed, staring down. “Blood drips and drag marks,” he said.

“Yeah, she was pulled this way and placed in a trunk.”

I continued walking. “The cell phone is there. I didn’t notice any gloves in our video, so we should be able to get prints from it.”

Rick knelt and opened his kit. He gloved his hands and pulled out an evidence bag. “Anything else that may have belonged to our attacker?”

“The phone seemed to be it.”

Rick picked the phone up, placed it inside the bag, and sealed it up. He stood. “It will probably only take me a little bit here. Maybe an hour or so. I’ll get some photos and check out that video. After that, I’ll get back to the lab, get some prints off of this thing, and see if it has anything valuable inside.”

“Sounds good, Rick.”

“Are you sticking around?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Call me on my cell as soon as you know something. I need to get back to the station and then out to Clearwater.”

“Are you working all night?”

“As long as I have to. If I keep getting more things to go on, I’ll keep going until I can’t anymore. I want Maria Flores found before she ends up like the others, and Angel White in custody before she can hurt anyone else.”

Rick nodded.

“Get us a copy of the security video inside if you can.”

“I will, Kane. I’ll give you a call in a bit.”

“Appreciate it.” I headed toward my car.

I pulled into the station’s parking structure and walked inside. The lights inside Captain Bostok’s office were off —he wasn’t in yet. I headed to the lunch room to make multiple cups of coffee for myself. The fluorescent lights of the lunchroom buzzed overhead. I’d never noticed the sound before. I made two cups of coffee and grabbed a few Danishes from the vending machine. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything. I walked to my office, balancing my coffees and Danishes in one hand, and unlocked the door. I set everything on my desk and took a seat in one of my guest chairs.

I shook my head as I unwrapped the first pastry. Maria Flores’s stubbornness bothered me. I should have been sterner with her. Hearing a tap on my open door, I glanced to my left to see Hank walk into my office, his eyes puffy from recently being woken.

“Sorry, Hank,” I said. “It was the captain’s call to get everyone back in.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “Karen had me sleeping on the couch anyway.”

“Couch treatment for being late?” I asked.

“She’s emotional. Taking hormones.” He pointed at one of the coffees. “One of those mine?”

I slid one of the coffees and one of the Danishes over to him. “Hormones?” I asked.

“We decided to try to have a baby.”

“Really? You didn’t mention anything about that. I thought the puppy was enough.”

“Yeah, so did I. I don’t know. Sure, Karen and I have talked about having kids, but it went from talk to a decision in about two seconds. Now she’s dead set on it. Biological clock, I guess. She went and saw a doctor a few weeks back, and they said she may encounter some problems. They have her taking a bunch of stuff to better our odds.”

“Well, I wish you guys luck. I’m still a little bit in a fog about it myself.”

“You know, if Karen and I have a son and you guys have a daughter—”

I held up my hand, stopping him. “Nope.”

“What?” He smiled and sipped his coffee. “Bostok isn’t here yet?” he asked.

“He’s probably getting our warrants.”

“You’ve been working this entire time?”

“Yeah. I came back here and traced Angel White’s phone out to Riverview. I called the HSCD and let them know that Maria Flores and Angel White were at the same location. By the time the deputy got inside the gas station Maria Flores worked at, she’d been taken. It was a window of minutes that it happened in.”

“We’re positive it’s Angel White?”

“We have her on video, attacking Maria Flores at the gas station and taking her away in the trunk of her car. Tags match. It was her.”

“So what’s the game plan here?”

“We’re headed to her house to serve the warrant. If she’s there, she’s under arrest. If she’s not, we’re searching the house in hopes of finding something to point us in the right direction,” I said.

“Okay. Who else is coming in?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know who the captain called. Rick was out at the gas station in Riverview when I left.”

Hank opened his pastry, took a bite, and washed it down with some more coffee. “If we get nothing at her place in Clearwater?”

I yawned. “I don’t know. Keep looking.”

“You’re going to have to sleep sometime,” Hank said.

“She’s got Maria Flores, doing who knows what to her. I’ll keep following leads until there are no more to follow.”

Someone walked past the front windows of my office. I glanced over to see Detective Jones as he walked in.

“Lieutenant, Sergeant,” he said. Jones collapsed onto the couch in the back of my office. My couch creaked and cracked in protest to his bulk.

“Jones,” I said. “Sorry you got dragged back in tonight.”

He shook his head. “I’m used to the graveyard shift. This is normal for me. Donner will be here in a couple minutes. I just talked to him. What are we doing here?”

“Waiting on the captain and heading out to Clearwater.”

“Okay. If we have a couple minutes, I’m grabbing a coffee. It takes one an hour to keep me running. Do you guys want one?”

I swished the last remaining sip of coffee around the bottom of my cup. “I’ll take another, Jones.”

“Just cream?” he asked.

I nodded.

Jones looked at Hank.

“I’m good for now,” Hank said.

Jones left my office. I stood, rounded my desk, and thumbed through the file we had on the case.

“What are you looking for?” Hank asked.

“Anything we missed.”

Hank motioned for me to hand him a few sheets to look over, so I did. We sat in silence, reading. My eyes began to burn, and I yawned again.

Jones walked back through my door, set my coffee down in front of me, and took a seat next to Hank.

“I saw Donner in the lunchroom. He just talked to Bostok. I guess he should be here within fifteen minutes.”

“Good,” I said.

Donner walked in a minute later. “Morning, guys… kind of,” he said, sitting on my couch.

“You spoke with the captain?” I asked.

“Yeah, he had someone from the DA’s office draw up the warrants and e-mail them over to him. He took them to Judge Cesaro’s. I guess he lives out by the captain. He was just leaving when we spoke.” Donner looked at his watch. “He should be here pretty soon. What are we looking at?”

“Just going over the files, seeing if we overlooked anything.”

Donner stood and came to the edge of my desk to lend a hand. The four of us studied the paperwork, but nothing stood out.

My desk phone rang. I scooped it up.

“Kane.”

“It’s Bostok. Let’s go. I’m in the parking structure.”

“Okay.”

I set the phone back on the receiver and stood. “We’re ready. The captain is waiting in the structure.”

We filed out of my office and outside.

Bostok sat in his car, idling behind the cruisers. “We ready?” he asked.

“Set,” I said.

“Okay. Clearwater PD is already on the condo. No signs of her, though.”

“All right. I guess we’ll see what we find inside,” I said.

Hank and I grabbed keys for an unmarked Charger. Jones and Donner did the same. I flipped on the red-and-blues in the rear window and grille and left the station. I led our convoy toward Clearwater. Normally half an hour, the drive took us just a bit over twenty minutes at my rushed pace. We entered Angel White’s neighborhood a couple minutes after two thirty in the morning. Two Clearwater PD cruisers were already on the scene, parked in opposite directions so they could sit in their cars and talk as they waited for us. After I pulled to the curb, Jones did the same behind my car, and the captain followed suit behind him. One of the Clearwater cruisers looped around and parked on the other side of the street. I glanced over at the condo. The SUV that I’d assumed belonged to Angel’s adoptive parents was gone from the driveway. Hank and I got out and walked to the closest Clearwater patrol car. The officer exited his car and came toward us.

“Lieutenant Carl Kane,” I said.

He reached out for a handshake, and I took it.

He seemed to be in his forties, with a bald head and no mustache or beard. “Ross Welsh. I got Officer Tim Kieth with me here. No signs of the woman in question.”

“This is Sergeant Rawlings.”

He shook Hank’s hand.

“I’ll let the other guys handle the introductions when they get over here. What do we know? Is she in the house?” I asked.

“I’ve been here for a good hour. No signs of her.”

“Did you go to the door?” Hank asked.

“No answer or sounds coming from inside,” he said.

I saw the other Clearwater officer speaking with the captain, Jones, and Donner at their car.

“All right,” I said. “We got the warrants. Let’s get in there.”

We gathered the rest of our group and went to the front door. Bostok handed me the warrants. I pulled my service weapon from my shoulder holster, and the other officers did the same. Holding the warrant in my left hand, I banged on the door. “Police! Search warrant!” My firearm hung against my right hip.

No one came. I made the announcement again—again, no response.

I twisted the doorknob, but it was locked. “Do you want the honor, Jones?” I asked.

He holstered his weapon and motioned us to the sides. We moved.

Jones took two lunging steps and delivered a boot to the door next to the handle. It flew open, wood splinters flying inside and sliding across the foyer floor. I motioned for everyone to enter. The men filed up the steps. I checked and cleared the garage—no car. Then I followed the guys upstairs.

“Police! Search warrant!” Hank called.

I heard nothing. We flipped on the lights as we spread through the main floor of the condo. The living room and kitchen were cleared. Hank, Jones, and I headed up to the third floor. We checked each of the three bedrooms—empty. She wasn’t there. We went back to the guys on the main level.

“Okay let’s get digging,” the captain said. “Anything that could lead us to where she may be or could go. Kane, Rawlings, take the top story. Jones, Donner, and I will get started here. We’ll move down to the garage after.”

Hank and I climbed the stairs to the third floor.

“I’ll take the master,” I said.

“Sure.” Hank jerked his head at the bedroom to his right. “I’ll start in here.”

Angel’s right eyelid spread open, and the left one followed a second or two later. She saw blurry streetlights with her left eye, blades of grass being lit by the same streetlights with her right.

“Ugh,” she moaned.

She raised her head from the lawn and pushed herself to a seated position. Her head pounded. She brought her hand to the side of her face above her right eye. Her hand slipped over an egg-sized lump. She looked at her fingertips—they were covered in blood from the wound.

“That bitch,” she mumbled.

Angel looked down the street. She didn’t see Maria. She didn’t know how long she’d been out. She put her right hand down and got her knees under herself. She stood and stumbled across the grass to the street. Her head throbbed with each footstep. She headed down the street to where she’d last seen Maria running.

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” Angel said.

She neared the cross street and looked left to right. The brightness of the streetlights overhead was causing the pain in her head to worsen. Her vision blurred. Angel looked down and closed her eyes, holding them tight until the pain began to subside. Then she opened her eyes, and her vision came back. She stared down at the street, where something caught her eye.

Angel knelt and jammed her index finger into what she saw. She pulled her finger back and rubbed its tip against her thumb. Red spread across her fingertips.

“Blood,” Angel said.

She looked up the street. More drips came into view. Angel followed them down the block. The drops of blood veered from the center of the street toward the sidewalk. Angel continued following the drips until she reached the grass. She knelt. More blood. The grass looked folded over.

Angel stood. She looked directly across at Robles Park, the same location she’d dumped Henry Pullman. Angel’s head went left and right, looking up and down North Avon Street. Maria was nowhere in sight. Angel searched the sidewalk, the street, and the grass. She found no more blood anywhere.

“Shit,” Angel said.

She wondered if someone had picked Maria up.

“Damn.”

Angel turned and headed back toward the house. She could only assume the woman had gotten help, and if she had, the police would be on their way. Angel needed to be ready when they arrived.

I covered just about every inch of the master bedroom. I found nothing in the nightstand drawers or dressers. The closet appeared to be empty, minus some clothes hanging and shoes strewn on the floor. I searched underneath the bed and between the mattress and box spring. I went through each drawer and cupboard in the master bathroom. Either she had done an extremely good job of covering her tracks, or there was nothing there for me to find. I walked out and headed toward Hank in one of the spare bedrooms to see if he was having better luck. I heard him rummaging around in the bedroom at the end of the hall. I walked in.