Web of Secrets (Agents Under Fire) (15 page)

“I was fostered as a child, and I wanted to give back.”

Becca nodded. “I had the same experience.”

An instant bond formed between them, and Becca could more readily identify with this woman. “So what happened when Allie ran away as a child?”

Mrs. Fields smile returned. “She got to the corner. She knew she wasn’t allowed to cross the street, so she came home. When she left this time, I knew she’d go farther . . . but I really thought she’d come back that same night. Or stay at a friend’s place. So I called around, but no one had seen her. Fred said to give it a few days. I waited two full days, then called the police and her caseworker. They kind of sided with Fred, saying she’d likely come home on her own. I thought she would, too. Especially for her medicine. Without it, she must have been in so much pain.”

Becca could hardly stand to see the woman’s grief. It reminded her of the days following Molly’s abduction, and made her consider how she would have reacted if she’d heard this news about Molly back then. Shoot, then? Even though Becca suspected Molly had died, she knew she’d still fall apart if her suspicions were confirmed.

“You mentioned Allie’s friends,” Connor said. “Could we get their contact information from you?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll get that for you.” She rose slowly, regaining her regal posture when she reached her full height.

After she’d stepped from the room, Becca looked at Connor. His compassion, combined with strength in this situation, made her see him in a new light. He worked with death on a regular basis, and yet, he had an easygoing approach to life. It took an amazing person to be able to balance that.

“I don’t know how you do this all the time.” A shudder claimed her body.

“Hey.” He took her hand. “First off, it’s not often that I’m dealing with a kid like this, which trust me, is harder. Second, our murder rate here in Portland is much lower than a lot of cities, so I have it better than most homicide detectives.”

“Still, I couldn’t do it.” She smiled at him. “I’ve gained new respect for you, Connor Warren. You’re quite a guy.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Mrs. Fields returned. He jerked his hand away, his professional demeanor back in place.

“I wrote them down for you.” She handed a piece of paper to Connor, but didn’t sit, indicating the visit was over.

“Would you mind if we took a look at Allie’s room?” Connor asked.

“Her room?” Mrs. Fields’s forehead furrowed. “What could you possibly want to see in there?”

“I know it seems like an invasion of your privacy, but we hope to find something to lead us to the person who killed Allie,” Becca said softly.

“Oh, right. Yes. I want this person caught.” She gestured at a hallway off the family room. “Her room’s down the hall. Third door on the right. I’ll just call Fred and then join you.”

Becca followed Connor down the hallway, dreading what she might see. It was another first for Becca and something she didn’t want to repeat. But she feared she’d have to do a lot of things she didn’t like before they arrested Van Gogh and put him behind bars.

Chapter Sixteen

BECCA MEANDERED down the sidewalk to the tree-filled park across the street from Elise’s house where homeless teens were known to hang out. She was hoping to find a few of the street kids who were willing to talk about Allie, or the credit card fraud.

A sharp wind picked up and cut through her jacket. She huddled into the coat’s downy warmth. She’d be a whole lot warmer if Connor was by her side, but he’d headed back to the station with a smile on his face. He was picking up a new portable fingerprint scanner that had arrived this afternoon. He was also meeting with Sam and Lieutenant Vance to update them on today’s events. She hadn’t been invited.

Maybe that was for the best. She was getting used to having Connor around, and she honestly missed him. It would be good for her to be away from him for a while.

Her phone buzzed and she looked at the screen to see Taylor’s name.

“What’s up, Taylor?” Becca answered.

“I just left Elise’s house. It looks like her foster daughter, Roxanne, is inadvertently responsible for the hack. She gave their network password to a homeless girl named Willow and with all the network logins listed on the logs, it’s clear she passed it on to others.”

“Why on earth would Roxanne do that?” Becca asked.

“Willow and Roxanne used to be in a foster home together, but Willow took off. Now she hangs out in the park across the street. Roxanne felt bad for Willow and wanted her to have access to free Wi-Fi.” Taylor paused. “I also reviewed the hospital security footage for the day of Frankie’s supposed visit for bronchitis. It was Willow who impersonated Frankie.”

Becca pondered the information. “I guess if she was the one to hack Elise’s network, that makes sense.”

“That’s not all,” Taylor continued. “She’s also the girl Danny recognized when I visited him in jail. So it’s looking like the credit card investigation is related to Frankie’s death.”

Though there was no concrete proof at this point, Becca had to agree. “I’m already at the park by Elise’s house following up on another lead. If you’ll text Willow’s picture to me, I’ll look for her, too.”

“You got it. Oh, and I also got Danny’s DNA report and ran it through CODIS. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn up any results.”

Becca sighed. “We’re back to square one, then.”

“On the DNA, yes.” Taylor paused and Becca’s curiosity grew. “But I got to thinking about other ways to ID Danny. I remembered that Oregon DMV has a facial recognition program.”

Oregon had started taking digital photos for drivers’ licenses in 2008, so when a driver applied for a new license, the computer ran a biometric comparison in their database to be sure the person was indeed who they claimed to be.

“Connor ran Danny’s mug shot through the DMV database the day we arrested him,” Becca replied. “It was a bust.”

“Yeah, I know. But I followed up with the DMV and they said the mug shot and their photos weren’t on similar platforms, causing the computer to reject that picture. I arranged to have a DMV camera taken over to the jail and took a new picture of Danny that fit their mapping. It worked, and we now know he’s Danny Gains, aged seventeen, and a foster kid who ran away six months ago.”

“Another foster kid,” Becca said, pondering the implication. “Does he have any priors?”

“Squeaky clean.”

Becca looked down the street at all the other homeless teens and wished she could do something to help all of them, or even to help Danny. But her first responsibility was to solve the crime.

“Can you head on over to the jail and let him know we have his identity? Tell him since he has no priors, we’ll try to help him out on the theft charges if he gives up the ringleader.”

“I’m on it.” The excitement in Taylor’s voice reminded Becca of her early days as a rookie, but she was far too cynical now to get excited over a simple lead like this one.

Unless, of course, it was related to Van Gogh.
That
she’d be all over.

Becca said goodbye and the text arrived with Willow’s picture. Becca glanced at it before she pulled up her hood against the cold wind and tried to act casual as she searched around for Willow. She didn’t find her, but spotted three girls and a guy sitting on sleeping bags down the street. She cautiously approached them. Their radar was up by the time she got there, but at least they didn’t bolt.

“Hey.” She kept her tone casual as she held out the picture of Willow. “I’m looking for this girl.”

They glanced at each other, and it didn’t take a trained agent to see they were planning on lying to her.

“What do you want with her?” the guy asked.

Becca could try to hide the fact that she was an agent, but if these kids had been on the street for any length of time, they’d know she was in law enforcement. Her jeans and hoodie only allowed her to get close enough for them to lie to her. That’s also why she showed Willow’s picture instead of giving them her name. If they knew she’d already learned Willow’s ID, they’d realize the girl was in trouble.

Becca pulled out her shield and displayed it.

“She’s involved in a case I’m working.” She changed the photo to Allie Field’s picture. “I’m also interested in information on this girl, too. Do you know either of them?”

The shorter girl rolled her eyes. “Like we’re going to get them arrested.”

Becca squatted to make herself less intimidating and decided to focus on Willow first by holding up her picture again. “See, here’s the thing. We’ve got her boyfriend Danny in lockup. We caught him with merchandise and stolen credit cards. But he’s determined to keep quiet and do time for his boss. Not a smart move. He may be under eighteen, but he could be tried as an adult and go away for a long time. If I can talk to his girlfriend, she could convince him to do the right thing and cut his sentence.”

They looked at each other and finally the boy shrugged. “She doesn’t hang down here anymore. Not since she hooked up with Danny.”

“So where does she hang?”

“Their guy rented an apartment for them.”

“Their guy?” Becca asked.

“The dude they work for.” He rattled off a location and apartment number in the suburbs. “Sweet place.”

“Hey, thanks.” Becca held up Allie’s picture. “What about my other girl, here? Do you know anything about her or any girls who’ve gone missing? Fifteen years old or so?”

The trio shared a look again.

The long, lanky girl sat up, her eyes filled with anger. “Don’t know that girl, but there was this one, Karen something or other. She got all caught up with a dude who hung near the Lloyd Center. I never saw her again. Her mean old foster mother would never look for her, so I tried to find her.”

Becca’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of another missing foster kid. “And did you?”

“Nah. No one knew where she was. I figured he dumped her and she moved on. You know? To fresh territory.”

“Nah,” the guy said. “She’d come back here first.”

She shot a fiery look at the boy. “Maybe she was embarrassed that she trusted a creep like him.”

“Shoot, ain’t nothin’ none of us haven’t had happen,” the short girl said.

“Ain’t that the truth,” lanky girl added.

Becca held out Allie’s picture again. “So you don’t know this girl?”

They all shook their heads.

Becca dug out her business card and gave them each one. “If you find yourself in any situation you can’t handle, call me first, okay? I’ve been where you are and can help.”

The lanky girl flicked the card onto the sleeping bag. “You, living on the street? No way.”

“Way.” Becca stood. “Between foster homes. And before I realized that a creepy old foster father crossing boundaries was way better than trying to make it on my own out here.”

She could see her comment resonated with the youngest girl. “Like I said. Call me. I’ll help.”

She headed down the street to talk to other teens. As she walked, she offered a prayer for these kids that they’d wise up and come in from the cold before they ended up like Allie—a murder victim left to rot like garbage at the landfill.

Chapter Seventeen

REBECCA. HER NAME was Rebecca. Rebecca Lange.

Reginald’s research showed that people close to her called her Becca. He would, too, because despite so many years passing since he’d seen her, they were closer than anyone else. Of that, he was sure.

With his favorite waltz playing in the background, he traced the outline of her face on his computer screen. She didn’t have a Facebook page. Most law enforcement officers didn’t. But there were plenty of teenagers who were glad to post pictures of her. Foster kids who’d been mistreated and she’d been their saving angel. He’d always known she was an angel. His angel. But apparently, she was an angel to others now, as well.

The pictures were amazing. She was as beautiful as he’d always imagined she’d be. He sent another picture to the printer, tore the teenager in the photo from the page, then tacked her image on his bulletin board. He ran his fingers over her face, kissing the lips that he remembered so well.

When would they be reunited again?

“How can you be so sure she’s your Lauren?” Billy interrupted. “Still going with the bump on the nose? If so, you’re the idiot I’ve always known you to be.”

“It’s Lauren. I know,” Reginald argued.

“Prove it. Have her DNA tested.”

“DNA.” Reginald let the thought roll around in his brain. “I do still have her shirt from when we were together. It has her blood on it.” He shot a look at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Mother. I know I was supposed to get rid of everything, but Lauren was different. She hadn’t been cleansed, so it didn’t matter.”

Mother didn’t speak, and he feared she’d take away his disciple status. But when a few moments passed in silence, he knew she wasn’t going to stop him.

“So,” he said. “I need to collect a current sample from Lauren. I can easily get that from her apartment.” The monitor dimmed, and he caught sight of his face on the screen. He ran his fingers over the lumpy skin. “I’ll have to find a way to hide my face.”

“Easy, you fool,” Billy said. “Tomorrow’s Halloween. Wear a mask. Not that you need one. That face of yours is enough to scare everyone.”

He ignored the snub. “Halloween, perfect. And my lock-picking skills will come in handy. Lauren will never guess I’ve broken into her apartment.”

A lab.
He would need a lab to process the samples. One where he could get lightning-fast results.

He searched the Internet. He’d stick with his plan to reveal Molly’s body in the morning, but if all went well in his search, he’d have the results he needed to prove Lauren’s new identity by the following day. Then, it was just a matter of figuring out how to take her without anyone noticing she was gone.

He located a small local lab online and called. They were happy to take the sample and rush the results. Of course they were, for an extra fee.

Now all he needed to do was figure out how to grab Becca and bring her back here. With her being in law enforcement, it would be more difficult than it had been with most of his girls. They wanted to believe his lies. Becca wouldn’t. A surprise smash and grab like he saw on TV shows with Mother should work. So how and where did he nab her?

He grabbed a pen and jotted down his choices.

1. In her home at night.

2. On the street.

3. In her car.

The first would be the best as far as not being seen, but he’d have to break into the apartment without waking her. As an agent, she probably slept with a gun by her bed.

“Okay, so that’s not a good idea.”

And grabbing her on the street was too public. Too much risk of being seen.

So that left her car. A carjacking, of sorts. It would have to happen at night in a deserted area. That was something he’d have to control. But how would he get her to stop where he wanted?

“Really, Reginald,” his mother said. “You participated in that online car-hacking seminar. Can’t you do your computer magic on her car?”

“Yes, of course, Mother. Good idea. I can do that. A little bit of research, some coding, and I can modify her onboard computer. Easy. And I can get a cell phone signal blocker. That way, when her car dies, she won’t be able to call for help.” He rubbed his hands together, then logged on to his computer. “Yes, Mother, as usual you have a plan. A very good plan.”

CONNOR HAD BEEN trying to get through to Becca for an hour, but his calls kept going to voicemail. He didn’t like not being able to reach her. Not one bit. He’d just have to keep trying her after he picked up a pizza at his favorite hole-in-the-wall joint. He found a parking spot just down the street, and his phone rang just as he started to get out. Becca’s ID popped up. He quickly accepted the call.

“Where are you?” he snapped before she could say anything.

She didn’t answer.

“Sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath to blow out the anxiety that had been building for the last two hours. “I guess that came out kind of demanding.”

“Kind of?”

“I tried calling you.” He got out of his car and headed down the street.

“I saw the five missed calls.”

“I was worried,” he said, and didn’t wait for her respond. “Why couldn’t you answer your phone?”

“I’ve been talking to street kids, hoping they knew Allie, but I came up empty-handed. I did get a lead on an apartment that the credit card ringleader leases for his crew.” She gave him the Portland suburban address. “It’s possible Allie was caught up with that business, too, so I’m staking the place out.”

Something in her voice made her sound lonely. Maybe she needed a stakeout partner or maybe he just wanted to see her.

“Did you have any dinner?” he asked, ignoring the little voice in his head warning him to stay away.

“No.”

“I’m just picking up a pizza. I could bring it by and hang out with you,” he offered casually. Part of him hoped she’d say yes, the other part no. He knew good and well sitting in a confined space with her for any amount of time was a bad idea.

“Okay,” she said less than enthusiastically.

Surprisingly, her attitude stung. “I could drop off the food and take off, if you’d like.”

“No, it’d be good to have a second set of eyes on the place.”

Okay, fine.
She wanted him there. But she wanted the cop, not the man. It was the story of his life with her. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes or so.”

“Connor,” she said.

“Yeah,” he answered, hoping she would tell him she was looking forward to seeing him.

“Could you bring me a bottle of water? I don’t need the extra calories from soda.”

“Sure.” He hung up.

She was something. A tough nut to crack. But it just made him want to crack it all the more.

When he stepped inside the hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, his mouth watered at the tangy aroma filling the air. His usual order of sausage, mushrooms, and extra cheese pizza was piping hot and ready. After grabbing a bottle of water for Becca and a can of Coke for himself, he arrived at the apartment in less than the thirty minutes he’d quoted her. He made sure his jacket covered his gun and checked to see if anyone was watching before he slipped into her car.

“That smells so good.” She smiled at him. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you say something this afternoon?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“I figured it wasn’t a good idea to sit down to a meal together. It might lead somewhere neither of us wants to go.”

He opened the box and offered her a slice. “And this is different how?’

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She grinned at him, and he had to laugh.

“Let me clarify, just so I get it right in the future,” he said, her smile disappearing on the word future. “You won’t share a meal with me unless you’re starving, so I shouldn’t bother to ask.”

“Exactly.” She chomped a bite of her pizza and groaned. “Is this as good as I think it is or am I just starving?”

“It’s that good.” He took a bite and chewed. “I discovered the best little pizza joint after a late-night stakeout with Sam. The place is kind of a dump, and I was leery at first, but they were the only place open. One bite, and I haven’t bought pizza anywhere else since.”

She gulped her water as if she’d just crossed a desert. “How long have you and Sam been partners?”

“Five long years.” He laughed. “Don’t tell him this, but he’s the perfect partner. I’ve learned a lot from him. Plus, he gives me space.”

“Like he’s doing with the Van Gogh investigation, you mean?”

Connor nodded. “He may have been first on scene, but I wanted to take lead so he backed off.”

“Why?” She peered at him. “Why’d you want to take lead?’

“Honestly?” he asked, mimicking her earlier question.

She nodded, but he could see she was wary.

“I wanted to keep an eye on you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. “Not in a personal ‘let’s go out’ kind of way, but . . .” He shrugged when the words wouldn’t come to him.

She simply sat staring at him, pizza in one hand, water in the other. Not moving. Not speaking.

Finally, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. He’d start over. “Something about you makes me want to protect you, okay? I know it’s an old-fashioned idea. And I know it’s not necessary. You’re in law enforcement and you can easily protect yourself. I get that. It’s just . . .” He shrugged again. “It’s not something I can really explain. I hope I’m not offending you.”

She continued to silently stare at him. He’d expected worse.

“I don’t mind,” she finally said. “Since we’re being so honest and all, I kind of like it. Not the ‘he-man protecting the little woman’ thing. It’s just . . . I’ve never really had anyone else looking out for me. I mean, I’ve got people like Becca and Nina, and to some extent Elise and Buck, but otherwise . . .” It was her turn to shrug.

Interesting.
“I thought that was the way you liked it.”

“Yeah, it is . . . it was. I’m not sure anymore.” She turned her attention to her pizza, and he did the same.

They ate in companionable silence, and he didn’t push. He was thrilled they’d already gone this far. Shoot, they’d actually had a real breakthrough. She’d confided. Not as much as he’d like, but as much as she’d felt comfortable sharing. He’d like to hear more, but no biggie. His job gave him the ability to read people well, and he didn’t think she was purposefully keeping something from him.

Right, you didn’t think Gillian was, either.
Not until her little bombshell of infidelity fell into your lap.

Becca was different. She wasn’t hiding anything. She just wasn’t big on sharing.

She finished her slice, dabbed a napkin over her mouth, then turned to him. “Did you and Sam make any progress on the list of missing foster girls I gave you?”

Okay, so they were back to business. “We ruled out two of the girls based on height. Sam’s talking to one of the girls’ foster parents right now. He thinks she’s a match for Jane Doe Four. You should also know, she’s been arrested for credit card fraud in the past.”

“So she could be one of the kids in my investigation.” Becca shook her head. “It’s so hard to wrap my mind around the fact that she could also be one of Van Gogh’s victims.”

“Both investigations involve foster kids, so it’s not too farfetched, I suppose.”

Becca peered at him, her eyes creased in sadness. “Those poor parents. They opened their home and took in this girl. Now she’s been murdered.” She paused and looked like she was trying to gain control of her emotions. “I hate it, you know. But on the bright side, it’s about time we catch a break on this case.”

REGINALD’S HEART BEAT a mile a minute as he tapped 911 on the prepaid cell phone and waited for the operator to answer. He’d gotten a good night’s sleep, and he could think of no better way to start the day, other than actually sitting across the small breakfast table from Lauren.

“911. What’s your emergency?” The operator’s pleasant voice came over the phone and the reality of his task hit him full on.

He was suddenly glad Mother had talked him into calling 911 instead of the detectives. It was safer, she’d said. Less intimidating. He held the voice scrambler over the phone.

“I want to report the location of another girl just like the ones they found in the park,” he said, almost giggling at how he was enticing the police to act. “You know . . . the ones that were buried.”

“You want to report a buried girl?” She sounded confused.

Of course. She was just an operator and wouldn’t be in the loop about the girls, yet.

“Yes.” He loved the sound of his altered voice reverberating through the room. “Call PPB detectives or better yet, Agent Rebecca Lange with the FBI. They’ll want the information.”

“Your name?”

“Ah yes. My name. Van Gogh, of course. Vincent van Gogh. And you’ll need my address.” He spoke slowly and carefully as he gave her the address for the fabrication plant. He made her repeat it back to him so he was sure she hadn’t made a mistake in entering it into her computer. “I look forward to seeing the detectives and Agent Lange.” He disconnected.