Before She Disappeared(101)

Charlie takes a bite of his burger, chews thoughtfully. “Why a fake college?”

“That’s the question. From forged IDs to a fake college. I’m lost.”

More chewing, swallowing. I spy a customer trying to grab my attention. I get back to work. Charlie is finishing off his burger by the time I return. I pour him more water.

“There was this thing,” he starts. “Five, six years ago. Guy invented a company. Used it to issue work visas.”

“You mean his company manufactured forged visas?”

“Nah, his fake company produced paperwork that real people could use to apply for real visas. Guy got greedy, though. Soon enough, the powers that be got wise to a small firm needing hundreds of engineers. Especially when none of the foreigners applying for work had an engineering degree. Good while it lasted, though.”

I lean closer. “So, not forged visas, which is nearly impossible, but creating supporting documents from a nonexistent entity to apply for real visas.” I remember what Emmanuel had said about his sister, her drive to take additional courses online so that she could graduate from high school early and get into college as soon as possible. Which would earn her a student visa and secure her place in this country.

“Charlie, what about student visas? A fake college, to issue fake student visas?”

“Could be.”

“Wouldn’t someone notice? Aren’t there checks and balances for that kind of thing?”

Charlie shrugs. “Fake company eventually got shut down, but not before earning millions. System’s only as good as the time and energy the bureaucrats have to police it. If a cursory check shows that company or that college exists, who really has time to dig deeper? Not to mention, I hear rumors of kids entering with genuine J-1s from genuine schools. Once they’re in the country, however, who pays attention to where they go and what they do?”

“But their visas expire.”

“Which is an issue if they leave and reenter the country. But what if they stick around—say, with a new driver’s license?”

I get goose bumps then. What would be worth more money than fake IDs? What would be worth kidnapping two enterprising teen girls and holding them hostage? How about setting up a system to generate real student visas? I can even see Angelique’s personal interest in taking on such a project, given her immigration status, and her brother’s. Maybe that had made it sound like a good idea . . . before it wasn’t.

Had Livia involved Deke on her own, or had he approached her? I’m not sure it mattered. Deke, with his criminal partnerships, must’ve taken over the enterprise and run with it. Forcing his half sister and Angelique to work for them. Given the girls’ aptitudes in computer programming and design, this little enterprise could’ve gone on and on, growing in scope and size. From a fake college for student visas to a fake corporation for work visas, such as Charlie described. That revenue potential would be through the roof. Definitely worth the risk of holding two girls captive.

Except Livia was now dead.

Because having produced the templates, she wasn’t needed anymore? Or the stress of the situation had made her too unreliable? And what did her death mean for Angelique? Poor, problem-solving Angelique, desperately leaving us breadcrumbs, doing everything in her power to lead us to them.

Then late last night, climbing into a van to help dispose of her friend’s body.

Knowing none of her plans had been good enough.

Knowing she would be next.

“Thank you, Charlie.” I glance at my watch. Eight p.m. Way too early to be cutting out of work. But I don’t have a choice. There’s no way I can stand here, slinging drinks. Not with so much at stake. I need to move. I need to do. I hope Stoney will understand.

I untie the apron from around my waist. Charlie stands up at the bar.

“Where are you headed?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Maybe the BPD field office to have it out with Lotham. Or . . . “I’m going to head to the rec center.”

“This time of night?”

“It all started there. And all roads keep leading back there. I can’t put my finger on it, but that’s the place to be.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

I don’t argue. A hulking bodyguard is not a bad idea at all. Which leaves me one last task. I bolt back to Stoney’s office, where he’s pecking away at his ancient computer.

“Bye,” he says, without looking up.

“I have a lead.”

“Bye.”

“I’ll be back, I’m so sorry.”

Stoney finally glances at me. “Go,” he says.

So I do, Charlie in tow. We’ve barely stepped outside the bar when my phone rings. It’s Emmanuel and the boy sounds hysterical.





CHAPTER 35




LiLi,” Emmanuel is gasping. “She just called. I heard screaming. She was screaming. ‘No, no, no.’ Then, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ But not to me, like she was talking to someone else. I think she had the phone tucked away, where they couldn’t see it. But then there was this huge boom. I didn’t understand. I started yelling her name. She came back, speaking right to me. She said, ‘I love you.’ Then the phone went dead. What is happening? Frankie, what is happening?”