Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

“Travis could be in the basement,” Gabe whispered, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. Seeing the cell phone in the center of the table had rattled him. Badly.

His half brother must have been here. Maybe still was.

“I’ll call for backup,” Cassidy whispered back.

“No time.” He tightened his hand on her arm. “The phone provides reasonable suspicion and exigent circumstances.”

“That’s stretching the rule,” she said with a frown. He released her arm, fully intending to break in through the back door himself, when she quickly added, “Okay, fine. I’ll find a way to make it work. Just stay behind me.”

He was grateful she’d agreed to enter the building. She turned and made her way around to what was likely the kitchen entrance. The door was locked, but Cassidy kicked at the doorjamb—once, then twice, then a third time. There was plenty of power behind her kicks, and he had a brief image of her working out in gym clothes when the damaged frame gave way. She pulled it open and peered inside. She took the lead because she was armed and had the flashlight. He stayed behind her as ordered, glad he was tall enough to see over her head.

The interior was dark, and the heavy scent of grease hung in the air. The interior was warmer than the outside temperatures, but not by a lot. Probably enough to keep the pipes from freezing , he thought. As they made their way through the kitchen, there were obvious signs that someone had been there.

Recently.

Empty food packages were strewn about, and dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. No signs of bug infestation from what he could see, which was why he felt certain the items had been left in the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine the bad guys hanging out here with Travis, hopefully sharing their food with the teen.

Cassidy held her flashlight along the top of her weapon, sweeping the muzzle from side to side as they walked through the kitchen and into the main restaurant bar area.

He was impressed with her thoroughness as Cass made quick work of ensuring the main level was empty. The phone on the table mocked him, but he didn’t reach for it. First, they needed to find Travis if he was still there. Cassidy checked both bathrooms, but they were empty. Glancing at him, she headed back into the kitchen toward the door on the far side of the room that likely led to the basement. Upon opening the door, he saw a steep staircase shrouded in darkness.

He almost called out to his brother, but Cassidy’s stealthy movements gave him pause. What if someone was down there waiting for them? Maybe even holding Travis at gunpoint?

He silently descended the staircase behind her, doing his best to follow her lead, stepping where she did to minimize the noise. The beam of her flashlight played along the wall until it ended. The pizza churned in his stomach, even though the darkness was a balm for his headache.

By the time they reached the uneven concrete floor, it was clear no one was down there. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or upset that Travis hadn’t been left behind, bound and gagged. The good news was that they hadn’t stumbled across his half brother’s dead body.

Cassidy played her light over the floor and the walls. “No sign of a disturbance, no blood or bindings to indicate anyone was held down here.” She glanced back at him. “Could be we’re on the wrong track in assuming Travis was here.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure he was. Let me examine the phone. If the number matches the one that called my office, we’ll have our connection to Travis.”

“We suspect the caller was Travis, but he never identified himself, so it could have been someone else,” Cassidy said in an annoyingly reasonable tone as they headed back up to the kitchen. “A friend Travis trusted enough to provide the necessary information to make the call.”

He understood she was being pragmatic, making judgments based on evidence, not his gut feelings. Sure, anything was possible, but the most likely scenario was that Travis had made the call.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, he strode straight to the main dining and bar area. He would have scooped up the phone without thought, but Cass stopped him.

“Don’t touch it,” she warned. “The phone is evidence that needs to be examined for fingerprints.”

“I just need to see the number,” he protested.

She pulled a small plastic bag out of her pocket and used it like a glove to pick up the phone. She gingerly turned the device so that he could just barely read the serial number on the back.

It took him a minute to visualize the phone number and serial number of the phone that had called his office. The actual phone number wasn’t on the device, but the serial numbers were a match. “This is the phone used to call my office,” he said with certainty. “The caller definitely was here when he reached out to me.”

She nodded. “Which is why the phone was left on the table in plain sight. Whoever is involved wanted us to know that they discovered the distress call was made and that they’ve left the hideout to prevent us from finding them.”

Hearing her state the obvious hit hard. It wasn’t good that they’d taken off, leaving the phone behind. He didn’t want to imagine the worst, but these guys hadn’t balked at shooting at him and Cassidy. He knew they could take their anger and frustration out on Travis by physically beating him. Were they angry enough to kill him?

What if they found these guys too late to save his brother?

“Don’t, Gabe,” Cassidy said, reading his thoughts. “If they had killed Travis, I’m sure they’d have left him here. They didn’t, which leads me to believe they’re kept him alive for a reason. Because they need his skills, or they need him to draw you out. I suppose it’s possible they’re waiting to get to you before taking any further action. Hard to say for sure since we don’t have a clue what this is about.”

“No, we don’t.” And he desperately wished they did. “They must want the code that was tucked away in my freezer. I need to understand what it’s for and soon. Before things spiral any further out of control.”

She offered a reassuring smile, then stepped back to call the local police. He listened as she identified herself as an MPD officer who needed assistance to investigate a potential crime scene. As she explained what she needed, he glanced around the messy kitchen, knowing better than to touch anything, but searching for clues just the same.

“We’ll get the crime scene techs out to search for prints,” Cassidy said when she’d finished making the call. “I highly doubt these guys wore gloves the entire time. There’s bound to be a partial print somewhere.” She frowned. “Although connecting prints to the bad guys and not the previous bar owner’s employees may add a layer of complexity.”

“These wrappers look recent,” he said, bending over to sniff at the grease that clung to the paper bag. “French fries and burgers likely.” He didn’t remember enough about Travis to identify his favorite foods and wished for the hundredth time that his memory would return. “We don’t know how many people are involved, so it’s hard to say if they spent a handful of hours here or had been using this as a hideout since yesterday.”

Pursing her lips, Cassidy surveyed the area. “Yeah, I agree. We should focus our efforts on the empty wrappers, along with the dirty dishes in the sink. I highly doubt the previous owner and his or her employees would have left them behind.”

“Probably not if they were hoping to sell.” A wave of hope lifted his spirits. “How soon can we get those prints run through the system?”

“I’m sure Rhy will expedite the evidence processing,” she assured him.

He nodded, then frowned when he saw the corner of a napkin peeking out from beneath an empty bag. “Cass, is there writing on this napkin?”

“Let me see.” She drew on a pair of gloves and moved the bag aside. “No writing, just a scribble as if someone was trying to make a pen work. Maybe the intent was to write a note, but there wasn’t time.”

“What about identifying the place where they bought the food?” he asked. The idea of Travis wanting to leave him a note but being unable to made him feel guilty for taking so long to get here. If they could have moved faster...

“There’s a receipt in the bag, looks like it came from a place not far from here.” She shrugged. “We can head over in the morning and ask if they remember anyone matching your brother’s description being there recently.” She shrugged. “Maybe something about your brother or the other guys was memorable.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t sure why any fast-food worker would remember a routine sale of food items.

“Hey, don’t give up hope.” Seeing his expression, she reached out to pat his arm. “Let’s stay positive. This was their first mistake. They realized Travis or his friend made the call to you and bolted out of here. We have them on the run, which means they’re likely to get sloppy again somewhere along the way.”

He appreciated her attempt to keep him from spiraling into despair, but the fact remained that Travis was gone, and their only lead was the phone he’d used to call into the station was now a dead end.

Travis and the guys he was with could be anywhere. Driving one or more unknown vehicles.

They’d been so close to finding Travis, and now it seemed as if they were further behind than ever.

He closed his eyes and prayed.

Please, Lord Jesus, guide us to the truth. Help my mind heal and grant me the strength and knowledge I need to find Travis! Amen.

Cassidy drew Gabe outside when the local cops and crime scene techs arrived. She felt bad that they hadn’t found Travis, but she was hopeful the crime scene techs would find fingerprints.

The hour was twenty minutes past three in the morning by the time she and Gabe were free to go. “I think we should head back to the precinct.” She glanced at him. “There’s time for you to get more sleep.”

“I’ve been off screen for several hours now,” Gabe said firmly. “I’d rather get back to work. I can’t help but think Travis is in more danger now than ever. We can’t afford to waste any more time.”

“Rest isn’t wasting time when you can’t even see the screen clearly,” she protested. “Come on, Gabe. You’ve been doing everything humanly possible to find Travis.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he said with a sigh.

She knew his mother’s guilt trip was weighing on him. And yes, if Gabe had his memory, they’d be much further along in understanding what in the world was going on. But they could only work with what they had.

Which wasn’t much. A phone, some fast-food wrappers, and dirty dishes.

The local cops and crime scene techs had agreed to fast track the evidence when they learned a missing teenager was suspected to have been held there as an unwilling captive. She was glad she hadn’t needed to wake Rhy to sway their decision.

She only hoped that these guys weren’t smart enough to force Travis to make the purchase, divvy up the food, and stack the dishes.

“There’s something about that code that makes me think the answer is staring me right in the face,” Gabe muttered. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “What am I missing?”

She had no answer. Concentrating on driving, she frowned when a pair of headlights flashed on behind her. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she increased her speed, putting more distance between them.

Within three seconds, the car behind her did the same.

Had the bad guys left someone behind to watch the restaurant? Fearful of a trap, she pushed the SUV faster. At the upcoming intersection, she abruptly turned left.

“What’s going on?” Gabe asked, his eyes opening in alarm.

“We picked up a tail.” She wished she’d considered the possibility of someone keeping an eye on the restaurant before now and quickly reviewed her options.

There were only two. Implement evasive maneuvers to lose the tail or head back to the restaurant where the officers were likely still hanging out.

Based on the lack of traffic and being in a more rural area, she settled on option two. Better to be safe than sorry.

With an abrupt move, she hit the brake and cranked the wheel. The tires squealed in protest as she sharply turned and drove out into the empty field to the west. The SUV bumped over the hard and uneven terrain, but she continued turning the wheel to make a circle around the car that had been following them.

Her maneuver must have caught the driver off guard because the car slowed without trying to follow. She hit the gas, sending their SUV surging forward. Less than a minute later, they were back on the road heading in the opposite direction, back toward the restaurant.

In the rearview mirror, she watched the car continue down the street away from them. “Alice, Henry, King, 4,” she said. “Alice, Henry, King, 4.”

“What?” Gabe looked at her in surprise.

“I only caught the first few letters and number on the license plate.” She tried to remember what the vehicle had looked like. “I think it was a black SUV, like the one who tailed us before. But color can be deceiving in the darkness; it could have been gray, dark green, or dark blue. And I wasn’t quick enough to get the make or model.”

“A partial plate will narrow down the possibilities,” Gabe said with excitement. “Especially if you know it’s an SUV. I’m sure we can identify who the car belongs to. I’ll run it through the system when we get back.”

“Good. I hope we get a hit.” Even as she said the words, a sliver of doubt moved in. Had she overreacted to the possible tail? If that guy behind them was one of the bad guys, he gave up the chase rather quickly. Was that because he knew they weren’t far from having police backup? Maybe.

Yet if the driver of the SUV had been watching the restaurant for them to arrive, why not ambush them while they were inside? Unless the driver hadn’t seen them right away, and by the time they’d been noticed, the local cops had shown up.

Thinking back, she estimated they hadn’t been in the building for longer than fifteen minutes before the cops arrived. She had kicked the door in, though, so that should have attracted their attention. Unless they were too far away to have heard the noise?

She was driving herself crazy with theories. No point in second-guessing her actions. It wasn’t like they had a lot of other clues to follow up on. And running the partial plate wouldn’t take that long. Well worth the effort to get a lead. She could go through the list of vehicles while Gabe went back to his mystery code.

She pulled up beside one of the squads at the restaurant, then lowered her driver’s side window. “Hey, any chance you’d be willing to escort us back to the Seventh Precinct of Milwaukee? I just shook a tail off and don’t want to run into another problem.”

“Okay,” the cop agreed, after a subtle glance at his watch. His partner shrugged, too, as if to say, Why not? “I’ll let the other officers know we’ll be off scene for a while.”

“Thanks.” Cass had pegged them for a couple of rookies who were often assigned to the graveyard shift. It was nice of them to offer to drive well outside their jurisdiction to shadow them back to Milwaukee.

She executed a three-point turn. The officer of the squad pulled out behind her. This time the trip to the precinct was uneventful. So much so that she felt a little guilty for taking the officers so far out of their way.

“Thanks,” she said, waving them off. The driver acknowledged her with a return wave, before hitting the gas and heading back the way they’d come.

“At least they weren’t territorial,” Gabe said as she killed the engine. Reaching beneath the seat, he pulled out the laptop. “After our last encounter, I was expecting the worst.”

“They were decent,” she agreed. “Generally, cities that have smaller departments are less concerned about jurisdiction than larger ones. They tend to accept their limitations and are more often grateful for additional assistance.”

“That’s the way it should always be,” Gabe said as they headed to the side entrance of the precinct.

She shrugged. “Keep in mind, we wouldn’t be so anxious to hand off a case to another precinct either. Especially one that involved one of our team members. Which is mostly when we end up operating outside of the city.”

He grimaced and nodded. “I see your point.”

At his desk, they shrugged out of their coats and removed their protective gear. She was glad they hadn’t been in a position to need it but decided not to put everything back in the equipment room. She wanted the vests handy if they had to head back out again.

“I’ll start with the partial plate,” Gabe said as he logged into the computer. “I’ll run a list.”

“Send it to me,” she suggested. “I can comb through that while you focus on cracking that code.”

“Okay.” His fingers danced along the keyboard, making quick work of the task. A moment later, he’d sent the file to her email.

“Thanks.” She pulled the file up on her phone, grabbed the closest chair, and settled down to review it.

She took each vehicle one at a time, instantly bypassing any pickup truck, minivan, or light-colored vehicle. For sure those were not the vehicles she’d passed. Once she’d eliminated those possibilities, four names were left to investigate in more detail.

Grabbing the laptop Gabe had brought in, she started checking the DMV registrations for each of the four vehicles. The first belonged to an elderly man, the second to a middle-aged woman. Since their children could have used the vehicle without their knowledge, she couldn’t cross them off completely.

But the third car was a black SUV belonging to a twenty-eight-year-old by the name of Miles Wayland. Without being judgmental, she took note of Miles’s long, stringy dirty-blond hair, a scowl on his features, and hard eyes.

Miles moved up the suspect list, but that didn’t stop her from investigating the fourth vehicle too. That was a blue Honda SUV that was registered to a sixteen-year-old girl by the name of Patrice Curtis. Based on the DL photo, the girl looked as if she could be a high school cheerleader. Pretty face despite the extensive makeup, hair stylishly curled, and a broad smile. Maybe Cass was being sexist, but she struggled to imagine this girl shooting at them.

Yet her age being so close to Travis’s nagged at her. What if this girl was involved? She could have loaned her car to someone. Or she could be the driver while someone else fired the weapon.

Maybe she needed to keep Patrice on the list. Miles first, then Patrice.

“What did you find?” Gabe asked, sensing her dilemma.

“Do any of these four names sound familiar?” She recited them one by one. When he shook his head, she sighed. “Miles looks sketchy, but that doesn’t mean he’s guilty. And Patrice is close to Travis’s age. Could be she lured him in somehow.”

“Yes, but you can’t ignore the other two,” Gabe said. “We need to eliminate them completely before dropping them. They could have criminal backgrounds or family members with a criminal history.”

“I understand. But I still want to start with the most likely prospect.” She entered Miles Wayland into the system first. After a few minutes, she decided that if they were going to keep working until sunrise, they needed coffee.

She stood and headed to the break room. She watched Gabe work from the doorway as the coffee dripped. He’d run his fingers through his hair again, making it stand out on end. For his sake, she hoped Travis wasn’t hurt. And that he wasn’t involved in the criminal side of this thing.

Whatever it was.

She filled two cups with coffee, doctored them the way she and Gabe liked it, and carried them out to the desk. Gabe offered an absent smile as he took the cup and sipped.

Rather than ask if he’d learned anything new, she turned her attention to her task. Miles Wayland did not have a criminal record, which was disappointing.

Neither did any of the other three vehicle registrants.

Since that didn’t work, she went back to the elderly man, Oliver Haydon. She ran a report of his known associates, which were mostly family members.

None of them had criminal records either.

She went through the same process with the middle-aged woman, Debra Flacko. She had even more known associates, but the only name that popped with a criminal record was a teenager who’d been caught selling marijuana.

Doubtful that selling marijuana would lead to firing shots at them, so she went back to Miles and Patrice.

Time to dig into their social media sites. She started with Patrice, mostly because in her experience girls were more likely to post online than boys.

Patrice was no exception. She had been right about the girl being a cheerleader; there were several posts featuring her alongside her fellow cheerleaders. She checked to see if Travis was a friend of hers, but he wasn’t.

There was a post about her new (albeit used) car that was a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday.

Again, she couldn’t see this girl being involved. Which left her first choice of a suspect, Miles Wayland.

Miles didn’t have much of a social media presence. She found him on one site, but it was clear he hadn’t posted anything in over two years. The other sites had even less activity.

There was one post that caught her eye. “Gabe, what is Dorian?”

“Huh?” Gabe turned to look at her. “Dorian?”

“Yes. This Miles guy has a post that says something about being on Dorian. That was two years ago, and he hasn’t posted anything since.”

“Dorian is a social media site for gamers.” Gabe’s eyes widened, and he abruptly turned to stare at his screen. “That’s it. Gamers. This software is for a game!”

She wanted to be happy about the breakthrough, but she didn’t understand it. “Like what kind of game?”

“A computer game. That’s what those levels were about.” He smacked his hand on the desk. “I should have known right away that this was related to a computer game.”

“Okay, but why would a computer game cause you to be in danger?” A horrible thought hit. “You didn’t steal proprietary software, did you?”

“Steal it? No.” Gabe frowned, then said, “Although I did copy it here on the USB drive for a reason.”

His comment was like a pin popping a balloon. Just knowing this was somehow related to a game wasn’t enough.

They needed to understand why anyone involved with a computer game would want to kill Gabe.

Before they could strike out at him again.