Forgive Me(65)

I used the knife and cut a slit in the mattress and stashed the phone and knife in there. The guy was shaking. Please don’t call my wife, he kept saying. Please don’t tell anyone I was here. He said he’d lose his job. I said not to worry. I won’t tell anyone if he won’t. I told him he had to go now, but that I needed a little distraction because I had a phone call to make. He asked what kind of distraction. I sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at him. Then I screamed RABBIT RABBIT loud as I could.





CHAPTER 33



Three days on stakeout and still no word from Nadine. This was not going as Angie hoped, and she was done waiting for something to happen. Angie sent text messages in an effort to coax Nadine out, but never got a response. She was careful not to use Nadine’s name, in case the woman at the bar turned the phone over to her pimp. Angie called a number of times as well, but those calls went straight to voice-mail.

Once it became obvious the stakeout would drag on, Mike got his ex to look after his kids so he could stay with Angie a while longer. He had a rental gig that weekend, but Bao coordinated the job, which meant time away from code breaking.

Angie kept in regular contact with Bao, and masked her frustration at his slow progress. He was also having a difficult time (Flip 5-0 Grind difficult, according to Bao) identifying the owner of the apartment building where they believed Nadine might be found. The property was part of the L & E Trust, whatever that was. Getting more information would involve the courts, something Angie didn’t have the time or inclination for.

In the course of their conversation, Angie told Bao about the check registers. He thought the discovery was interesting, but wasn’t sure what to make of it, either.

Twice the phone rang while Angie was talking to Bao. Each time, she was disappointed that the caller was another job, and not Nadine. As before, Angie farmed the jobs out to different PIs for a cut of the action. Anything that wasn’t Nadine-related had to take a back seat, and this included focus on a mysterious photograph taken some thirty years ago.

“See if you can link Markovich to the building,” Angie directed Bao.

To stay fresh and alert, Angie and Mike took turns sleeping in their respective vehicles. The removable window tint kept pedestrians from gawking at them while they slept or sat waiting for something to happen. When their legs got achy they took turns walking the neighborhood in disguise, though Angie never went as Big Red again. They stocked plenty of water and snacks, and kept their recording devices fully charged—standard practice during a lengthy stakeout.

Mostly what they did was wait for a break. Angie documented girls coming and going from the apartment building. Sometimes Casper and Buggy came and went through the front entrance; sometimes they took the alleyway, often while accompanying eager looking men. What Angie never saw was any sign of Nadine or the girl who’d received the phone from Mike.

Regrettably, Angie couldn’t count on the police for much of anything. She made a call to Major Chris Nuccio, who was in charge of the whole eastern district. Just getting him on the phone was an ordeal.

“I’ve already spoken with your officers when I went to the station to file a report,” Angie said. “So now I’m telling you. I think the building is being used as brothel and that a girl reported missing from Potomac, Maryland is being trafficked for sex at that address.”

“Have you seen the girl?” Nuccio asked.

“No,” Angie said.

“Any contact with her?”

“No,” Angie said again. She explained the burner phone and how she and Mike had followed Ivan Markovich, the last person to see Nadine, to a building in Baltimore.

“How do you know Markovich is the last person to see her?” Nuccio asked.

“We have video of him leaving Union Station with her.”

“But did you see her get into his car?”

“No.”

“Have you turned the video evidence over to us?”

“I believe the security team from Union Station did so, yes. You need to watch it. In the video it looks like Nadine went with Markovich into the parking garage. Obviously, he was taking her to his car. She doesn’t even have her license. Why else would she go there? We need to go at this guy.”

“Where does he live?”

“DC.”

“Then it’s a matter for the DC police, not us. Call them.”

“But I think he may own this building.”

“You have proof of that?”

“No. All we know is that the building is owned by a trust.”

“Then your boy is still DC’s jurisdiction, not ours. Okay?”

“Not okay,” Angie said. “My partner and I are here now, outside the apartment building, documenting a lot of guys going down an alley with grouchy looks on their faces and coming back all smiles.”

“Fine. We’ll send a cruiser over to have a look.”

“You already did that. How about you get inside?” Angie said.

“How about I need a cause for a warrant.”

“I just gave you one.”

“You gave me an ass chewing from a judge. I need better.”

“Okay, how about you get some people down here to help us stake out the place?”

“When East Baltimore decides to take a break from being a war zone, maybe I could spare a crew to run that kind of operation. Until then, feel free to send us what you have.”