More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) (30 page)

When I finished looking at all of the pictures, I picked three that were outstanding and started my story on them. With photos like these, the story wrote itself. This would be a great water cooler story. The perfect dovetail into my homeless people series.

There are those people who care deeply for other people, and then there are those people who care even more deeply for pets. In a country that spends over four billion per year on their animal companions, this story would make them sit up and take notice.

After sending Jeff an e-mail telling him how brilliant his photos were, I called Danica and left a message that I was going to Oakland and not to worry. Then I left one for the boys: I had a little puzzle for them I would be e-mailing over. In the meantime, I would finish my story, and then see if Finn would put a call into OPD for me. My to-do list never seemed to dwindle.

My story finished writing itself, and I e-mailed it to Wes Bentley. He and I had exchanged e-mails regarding my story as well as the backseat piece on Mayor Lee Carter was trying to write. Apparently, he refused to believe the photos had been doctored. He wanted more proof. I just shook my head and wished Wes luck with that piece. Then I picked up the phone and called Finn with the intention of leaving another message. I was surprised when she picked up.

“Good morning to you,” she said. “Isn’t caller ID a great thing? I wasn’t going to answer.”

“Good morning. I’m so glad I made the cut. How are you?”

“I’m wearing a big goose egg over my left eye, but other than that I’m good. And you?”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Someone clocked me with a rock. Hurt like hell. The goose egg is the reason I’m awake. It’s throbbing like a son-of-a-bitch. It’s telling me I need to take some Advil or something. And as much as I would love to think this is a personal call... something tells me otherwise. What’s up?” There was a slight tinge of resentment in her voice.

“A rock?” I said, softly. “Did you need stitches? Are you sure you don’t need some TLC? I can come over and administer CPR or something.”

She chuckled. “CPR sounds great. I could use a little TLC.”

“Seriously, though, are you okay? What happened?”

 “I was breaking up a bar fight and someone chucked a rock toward us. My face got in the way. Twelve stitches. No biggie. What’s up?”

“I’ve got names for nine of the homeless guys. I was hoping—”

“That I could shake some trees and see what falls out? I can give it a try, Echo. Let’s face it. We have no proof any crime was committed. And even though I believe you, and I believe in your story and your instincts, I’m just a bottom feeder. If you really want action, you need to go to the top.”

“And by that you mean—”

“Mayor Lee would be able to put some heat on the chief. We have a saying in law enforcement—shit runs downhill. If you can get the mayor’s interest, he might lean on the chief. The chief would turn around and lean on the captains until finally, someone would be assigned. Off the record, of course.”

“The police department won’t look good if I do it that way.”

“What else is new? We all know the score, Echo. We are short-staffed, overworked, underpaid and have more rules to follow than a dozen jobs added together. It’s an uphill battle for supplies, for money, for backing of any sort. You do what you need to do to get action. The department may initially take a hit when it becomes clear that we didn’t do anything to investigate, but don’t worry. We cover well.”

“Then you wouldn’t be mad? I hate the thought this might come between us.”

“Something can come between us if we only let it. Hell no. I’m on your side. I wish there was more I could do for you. All I ask is that you have a real dinner with me once this is all over. A real date. I’d like to get to know you better. I’m your biggest fan, Echo. You can trust me.”

Once I hung up, I realized for the first time since Tip, I actually trusted another woman, and it felt really, really good.

When I handed Shirley the photographs, I included my story with them. Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she slowly and deliberately looked at each picture.

“Oh my...my babies have never looked so good. These are simply…” She shook her head and wiped her tears. “Please convey my appreciation to String Bean. He did a wonderful job. These are simply wonderful.”

“I thought so as well. I wanted you to see the story first, along with the photos. I’m putting faces to the homeless that haven’t quite been captured like this.”

Shirley stared at them for a very long time before looking up. “What a wonderful gift. Thank you so much.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I really appreciate all the help with my story. As a matter of fact, I was wondering—”

Shirley looked up from the photos. “You’ve got something?” she held her hand out. I had no doubt she had probably been
watching
me from afar, using her sight to see if I was anywhere close. I hadn’t had many encounters with clairvoyeurs, so I wasn’t quite sure how they operated. Most people would be freaked out knowing someone could close their eyes and get a vision of where they were and what they were doing, but I’m a supernatural. It takes a lot to freak me out.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out Smiley’s note. “I found this on Smiley’s bike, but you probably already knew that, huh?”

Shirley waited, palm open. “Can’t blame an old woman for caring. You’ve been so kind to me and my critters. Yes I knew, and yes, I knew you would bring it to me.” She kept her hand out and I put the slip of paper with the numbers carefully in her palm.

“So this is what I saw Smiley doing with the bike?”

I nodded. “Apparently.”

She closed her eyes and sat very still for a long time. When she opened them, she shook her head. “All I can tell you is that he saw something...something that frightened him so much he felt the need to write it down…but he is…different,
n’est-ce pas
?

“Oh yes. A savant of some sort. No one knows precisely what kind.”

“But these are just numbers.”

Shirley handed the paper back to me. “Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. This Smiley was a special man...special abilities. He saw the world so much differently than the rest of us and his communication style was not at all like yours and mine.” Shirley sighed. “One of his people might know how he communicates. Now, can a batty old woman give you a piece of unsolicited advice?”

“Absolutely.”

“Don’t let this job be ivy in your life.”

“Ivy?”

“Ivy looks pretty enough, but left unchecked it will kill all of the surrounding plants in an area until it is the only thing alive. From where I sit, and granted it’s no palace on high, I see a beautiful young girl working and working and working. Hamster on a treadmill. Ivy.” She reached for my hand and held it. “A yard is much prettier when it has a variety of plants. Your yard is... well... rife with ivy. That may seem fine now, but it can be a very lonely place after a while. Don’t become so involved in your stories that you forget to live your own.”

Smiling, I nodded. “Good advice. I just wish I knew how to take it.”

“Give yourself some time. Balance, Echo. Keep your life in balance.”

It was odd the way I could hear Melika’s voice, and a small part of me wondered if Melika hadn’t contacted her. “You sound like my mentor.”

I thought about our conversation as I drove to Oakland. I
did
feel driven. I just never felt good enough. It was the typical stigma of a foster care kid. I wanted to be better than good enough...I wanted to be the best. I wanted to prove to Wes and Carter, and yeah, myself, that I had the chops to do this job really well.

When I finally found Dante, he was reading another one of his namesake’s books. Looking up, he frowned. “Is this good news or bad news?”

I shrugged, sitting down next to him. “I can tell you this much: I don’t believe he is dead.”

“Why not?”

“No bodies. No evidence of violence. Nothing to suggest they were hurt. What’s important is finding out what the hell this means.” I handed him a copy of the paper with the numbers. “I found this taped to his bike. I was hoping you might know what it means.”

Dante looked at the piece of paper and rubbed his face. “He wrote these down? That’s odd. Smiley never writes.”

“Then maybe they’re really important.”

Dante looked at them again and squinted before looking back up. “No maybe about it. Smiley never writes. Wasn’t even sure the kid knew how.”

I bowed my head. I had been so sure the piece of paper was written by Smiley.

“You know, Echo, a bunch of us were talking the other day and the one thing we kept coming back to was the fact that these kidnappings seemed so organized.”

I cocked my head at him. “Gangs?”

He shook his head. “To swipe a grown man off the street without anyone saying or hearing anything would take an organized group with the proper vehicle for a quick in and out. Gangs are sloppy. Gangs don’t drag dead bodies with ’em. There is an organization that requires leadership and equipment.”

“Like a van?” Leroy had mentioned a van.

He nodded. “It’s probably a large cargo or something with double doors because they’ve got to be able to get a struggling man into it quickly.”

I nodded again. “You’re saying there’s more than one guy, right?”

“Way more than one. We were thinking along the lines of three or four. To do a snatch and grab without being seen or heard would require at least three grown men: a driver and two, maybe three others.” Dante looked down at the numbers. “This is a fairly covert operation, my friend. They know who they’re looking for and what they want. My guess is this is not a snatch and grab. They have targeted certain guys.”

“Wait. If that’s true, then they’re doing their homework.” I paced across the alley. “And that would mean—” Stopping I looked up at Dante. “Oh my God.”

Sighing, he ran his hand over his bald head. “Someone is giving them up. Someone is leading them to the guys they’ve been scouting. That’s what we’ve come up with.”

“So, you don’t think these are random kidnappings at all?”

He looked at me a long time before answering. “Echo,
we
are everywhere. We’re smoke on the water. For someone to take as many of us from two cities as you say, this is a very organized endeavor that has inside intel. Someone is giving them that intel, and when we find out who it is...” He made a throat-slitting motion. “Ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“Very good. I’ll keep working my side. Do those numbers mean anything at all to you?”

He shook his head and then proceeded to write them down on the inside cover of
Paradise Lost.
“No, but let me ruminate on them for a spell. I don’t know if anyone told you much about my nephew, but he’s never been right in the head. Some people call him an idiot. I prefer to call him a savant.”

“So you said. Autism?”

He chuckled. “Something like that. We never got the whole diagnosis. Anyway, if he wrote it down it meant something to him. I mean…” He shook his head. “He must have been trying real hard to get something out in his own way.”

“Well, if you can think of anything, let me know. Please don’t—” I made the same throat-slitting motion he had, “before I have a chance to talk to whoever it is.”

“I can’t promise that, Echo. Vets down here tend to act first and talk later. If someone has been giving us up, there’s gonna be blood. It’s become a search-and-destroy mission.”

That, in a nutshell, was the way of the street. As I left the old man alone on the stoop, my mind was racing. Who would want to kidnap homeless people, and why? What did they have to offer? Was it their anonymity? The fact that no one really cared?

Getting into Ladybug, I dialed Finn’s number and invited her to a quick dinner.

By the time our meal came, we had discussed the various paths to our careers, what we did in high school, and some of our favorite favorites. I found her to be a wonderful dinner companion and an excellent conversationalist. The more I was around her the more I liked her. She was a great listener, asked good questions (as befitting a cop), and was well-read; something that had always been important to me. She told me some of the most hilarious police stories I had ever heard, and we laughed right on through to dessert.

While I was laughing, Finn leaned forward and laid her hand on top of mine. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you laugh so hard. It’s nice.” She studied me a moment before squeezing my hand under hers. “As much as I would like to believe you asked me to dinner for a date, I can see the many question marks in your gorgeous eyes. What business do you need to attend to?”

Ivy, ivy, everywhere. Damn that Shirley. Damn my eyes. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

Her smile was perfect. “And maybe that’s only part of the truth. You know, for a truth seeker, you sure sidestep it a lot.”

I stared at her. “Truth seeker? Where did you get that?”

She studied me a minute. “It’s written all over your face. It’s in your eyes. You live for the truth. It’s the bread and butter of your diet.” She shrugged. “It’s one of the things I like most about you: your integrity.”