A Necessary Evil(10)
“Y-yes. I mean, no.” The boy’s head hung low in apparent shame. “I-I’ve b-been trying to get her attention…trying to show her how much I love her. But I s-swear. I’d never hurt her. It w-wasn’t me.”
If it weren’t for Frankie’s instincts, he wouldn’t have gotten so far in life. He’d always prided himself on his ability to read people and situations with amazing accuracy. It was what made him so good at being so bad. So, when this shivering boy swore he hadn’t hurt Mollie, Frankie knew he was telling the truth. There was no way this scrawny limp dick had kidnapped his tenacious, strong-willed granddaughter. The knowledge was both comforting and frightening to Frankie. On one hand, he was glad to know this boy hadn’t hurt Mollie. On the other hand, it meant someone stronger, smarter, and stealthier had taken her.
“Let him go.” Frankie gestured at Rupert and Stanley.
“Boss?” Rupert said with a queer look on his square face.
“Just let him go.”
The bodyguards released their hold on the boy, and he dropped to the ground in a heap.
“Conner,” Frankie squatted and looked him in the eye, “do you know anything about who might have taken Mollie? Anything at all that could help me find her?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I th-think so.”
“You think so? What could you possibly know that could help me?”
“Th-the man…”
Frankie leaned closer since Conner was speaking so softly. “What did you say?”
“The man,” Conner repeated.
“What man?”
“The one who’s been watching her.”
Chapter 6
Kurt
“Relax, Whiskey,” Lonnie said as the two detectives climbed back into their unmarked Crown Victoria and slammed their doors against the cold night air. “We’ll find her.”
“Yeah,” Kurt huffed. He reached into his shirt pocket, withdrew a flimsy pack of Winstons, tapped out a single cigarette, lit the end, and drew in a long-overdue drag of nicotine. Kurt tilted his head back against the headrest and exhaled. When a thick, white cloud of smoke filled the air inside the cruiser, Lonnie rolled down his window, waved his hand in front of his face, and coughed dramatically.
“Come on, man.” He coughed again. “I thought you were giving up those cancer sticks.”
Kurt didn’t take the bait. There was no point. It was true, though. He had told Lonnie on numerous occasions of his intention to stop smoking once and for all. And he had done well, until now. The stress of the missing girls, combined with the reappearance of Frankie Cartwright in his life after thirty years of radio silence, was taking its toll. And Kurt had learned years ago the worst possible time to try to quit smoking was when he was under enormous stress. He needed the occasional cigarette to calm his nerves and give him five minutes to think.
“Whatever. Your funeral.” Lonnie shifted the cruiser into gear and pulled away from the curb in front of Macy’s.
“That was a complete waste of time,” Kurt said, thinking back on his conversation with the entertaining young man named Fabulous Greg at the Urban Decay counter. “We didn’t learn anything we hadn’t already learned from Frankie. Fabulous Greg didn’t even know about the kid who’s been bothering Mollie.”
“We need to call her best friend. What was her name? Lauren?”
“Laurel Bridges,” Kurt responded, taking in another deep breath of blessed nicotine and blowing it out the cracked window. “I left her a voicemail earlier, but I haven’t heard back from her yet.”
“Well, then,” Lonnie picked up the radio from its holder on the dashboard, “let’s just go right to the source.” He pushed the button on the side and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Dispatch, this is Bravo Five Three. I need a twenty for a Laurel Bridges. Female, not sure on the DOB, but probably around twenty years old. Lives in Lexington.”
“Copy, Detective,” the dispatcher responded. There were a few seconds of static feedback until the radio crackled with her reply. “Okay, Detective. I have a twenty on a Laurel Marie Bridges, date of birth 31 January of 96. Last known address is 3193 Raintree Drive, Apartment B34.”
“Copy that.” Lonnie placed the mic back in its holder. “See?” Lonnie grinned widely at Kurt. “Easy as pie. Now we have her address. What do you say we go see what young Laurel knows about this misguided Romeo?”
Kurt nodded, took one final draw from his Winston, and tossed it out the window. “Let’s do this.”
Lonnie made a U-turn at the intersection. The Raintree Apartments were only about fifteen minutes away, but on the northeast side of town. Lonnie flipped on the flashing lights each time he encountered a stoplight, so they didn’t have to wait like all the civilians. Kurt never did this himself, but Lonnie thought it was hilarious to see the miffed expressions on the other drivers’ faces when they were able to speed on through the red lights. He’d told Kurt before that it was one of the many perks of wearing a badge, so why not take full advantage whenever possible?
The complex consisted of six tall, orange-ish brick buildings with beige vinyl siding that encircled a smaller structure which served as the business office and clubhouse. While it wasn’t quite in the ghetto, it sat just on the outskirts of the nicer part of town, and Kurt had been called out to the apartments on more than one occasion. In fact, when his oldest nephew had been looking for his first apartment after graduating from college, Kurt had suggested he look elsewhere.