Chapter Twenty #2
“I’ll drink to that,” Terry said.
Nick, who knew better than to question Graham when he was on a roll, smiled and raised his glass to them.
Sam finally convinced Gonzo to leave the morgue, but not until the funeral home came to collect Arnold’s body.
Everything at HQ came to a stop and every officer went outside to see off their fallen brother, who would be escorted home to Maryland by two officers on motorcycles leading the procession, as well as four cruisers—two in front of the hearse and two behind.
Detective Tyrone was riding in the hearse and would remain with his friend until he was buried.
After the procession left HQ, Sam brought Gonzo into her office and deposited him into one of her visitor chairs. She would’ve sent him home, but he was in no condition to drive. “How about I ask Patrol to give you a lift home?”
He shook his head. “I’d rather be here.”
“No one would rather be here.”
“I’m not leaving. I’ll go crazy at home wondering what’s happening here.”
Sam didn’t bother to argue with him because she’d feel the same way in his position. “How about some food? When was the last time you ate?”
“I can’t.”
Freddie came into the office, saw Gonzo sitting with his head in his hands and glanced at Sam, asking without words if their friend was okay.
She shrugged and shook her head.
“We’ve got a report from a group here for the inauguration that two members of their party, both female, didn’t return to the hotel last night,” Freddie said. “Dispatch asked us to take it since everyone else is tied up with the inauguration stuff.”
“Let me come with you guys,” Gonzo said. “I need to do something.”
“All right.” Sam grabbed her coat and handheld radio. “Where’re we going, Cruz?”
“The JW Marriott on Pennsylvania and 14th.”
“Let’s go out through the morgue. We’re overrun with press outside the main doors.” Every heartbreaking second of Arnold’s final departure from HQ had been caught on film by the news channels that had set up shop in the parking lot.
Sam led Gonzo and Freddie to the BMW.
“New ride?” Gonzo asked, and Sam was relieved to see him showing a spark of interest in something.
“Yep. Nick had it tricked out for me.” As they got in and buckled up, Sam gave him a rundown of all the safety features.
“It’s like a traveling fortress,” Gonzo said. “So cool.”
“And the best part,” Sam said, turning on the radio, “is all Bon Jovi all the time.” She cranked up the volume on “You Give Love a Bad Name.”
Freddie groaned. “I’m filing a protest with the union. I shouldn’t have to be force-fed Bon Jovi on the job.”
“Go ahead and complain.”
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Gonzo staring vacantly out the window.
“We ought to be out looking for the guy who killed him,” Gonzo said. “That’s what we should be doing.”
“We have people fanned out all over the city looking for him,” Sam said. “The Marshals and the FBI are tracking down leads and following up on tips. We’re doing everything we can.”
“Yeah, but we’re not working the case. Why aren’t we working the case?”
“Because it’s too close to us, Gonzo,” Freddie said. “They’re going to want an unimpeachable case against this guy. If we’re involved, it could be seen as a conflict of interest because Arnold was one of ours.”
“But our Patrol people can be involved? How is that fair?”
“He wasn’t in their chain of command,” Sam said.
“It’s better for us to take a step back on this.
We want to be able to nail Androzzi. And besides, we’re helping by taking another look at missing persons over the last couple of years.
The whole squad is working on that. If we can tie some of them to his trafficking business, that’ll help the U.S. Attorney to prosecute him.”
“We’ve got about ten to look more closely at,” Freddie said. “Everyone has divided up the names and we’re going back today to speak to families and reviewing the files, the phone records and social media in light of this new information about Androzzi. Stuff is being done, Gonzo.”
“Doesn’t seem like we’re doing enough.”
“We’re doing what we can,” Sam said. “This guy is good. He’s slipped through the FBI’s net several times before. He knows how to disappear.”
“What if we never find him?”
“We will. He’ll screw up eventually, and we’ll get him.” Not getting him wasn’t a possibility she was willing to entertain. “Look how arrogant he’s already been. He’s obviously invested in moving his organization here. He’s not going to abandon that now. I have a feeling he’s very close by.”
The District was being transformed before their eyes in preparation for the inauguration. Flags and stars and stripes banners were hung from nearly every building on Pennsylvania Avenue. The metal barricades were in place and crews were working with frantic precision along the parade route.
“Hard to believe you’ll be walking this street tomorrow as the second lady,” Freddie said.
“Walking? No one said anything about walking.”
“The president and vice president and their spouses always get out of the cars for part of the trip from the Capitol to the reviewing stand.”
“Nothing like giving the crazies an easy shot,” she said, shuddering at the thought of how vulnerable Nick would be.
“The crazies won’t get let in. Don’t worry.”
“Right. Don’t worry. What do I have to be worried about?” Her stomach churned with nerves at the thought of the endless minutes when they’d be out in the open, too far from the security of the car and separated by feet from the detail that protected Nick.
She began to pray for rain. If it rained, they wouldn’t let them out of the car, would they? Rain-soaked VIPs didn’t make for good TV.
Sam drove up to the JW Marriott and flashed her badge to the bellman who greeted them.
“Hey!” he said when she got out of the car. “You’re the vice president’s wife!”
“Am I? I hadn’t heard that. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Haha. Nice ride. I’ll keep a close eye on it for you.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Hotel security was waiting for them inside the door. “I’m Jim Rollins, head of security.”
“Lieutenant Holland, Sergeant Gonzales, Detective Cruz,” Sam said. “What’ve you got?” He did a double take when he recognized her, but fortunately he didn’t tell her she was the vice president’s wife. The guy outside had taken care of that.
“Right this way.” Rollins led them to a bank of elevators.
“A college group from Northern Connecticut University reported this morning that two members of their party failed to return to the hotel last night.” The elevator took them to the tenth floor where a somber group was gathered in the hallway.
Sam, Gonzo and Freddie followed Rollins through a scrum of college kids to a room where several adults were on cell phones. Calls were swiftly ended.
“These are detectives from the DC Metro PD,” Rollins said.
“Lieutenant Holland, Sergeant Gonzales and Detective Cruz,” Sam said again as they all showed their badges. “We understand two members of your party failed to return to the hotel last night?”
“That’s right,” a nervous-looking washed-out blonde woman said. She was heavyset and overwrought. “Mindy Cahill and Jennifer Torlino.”
Sam wrote the names in the notebook she pulled from her back pocket. “We’ll need photos of both of them and cell phone numbers. Cruz, give them your email for the photos.”
One of the other adults scurried from the room to get the requested information.
“Do we know where they were last seen?”
“At a bar in Georgetown,” the blonde said.
“What’s your name?”
“Debbie McLane. I’m one of the faculty chaperones.”
“Are the students of legal drinking age?” Sam asked.
“No, they’re both nineteen. We’re not sure what they were doing in a bar.”
“You’re really not sure what they were doing?” Sam asked with thinly veiled skepticism.
“They weren’t supposed to be there.”
“Were any of the other students there with them?” Sam asked.
“Several of them,” Debbie said, seeming chagrined to admit that. Some chaperone she’d been. Her underage charges had been out drinking on her watch.
“I’d like to speak to everyone who was with them. Get them in here.”
Freddie’s phone dinged with an email. He showed Sam and Gonzo photos of two gorgeous young blonde women.
One of the other chaperones returned to the room with two boys and a girl who looked like she’d been crying for hours.
“Your names?” Sam said.
“Brian Watkins.”
“Tyler Johnston.”
“Wednesday Alexander.”
“Your real name is Wednesday?” Sam asked, her brow raised.
“Yes, I was born on a Wednesday, and my mom liked the name. I go by Wendy.” Wednesday had dark hair and eyes and the palest skin Sam had ever seen.
“You were with Mindy and Jennifer at a bar in Georgetown last night?”
The three young people exchanged nervous glances.
“Let me make this simple for you,” Sam said. “Tell us what we want to know here, or we’ll take you into custody and escort you downtown where we won’t be anywhere near as friendly as we’re being right now. That’s a lot of headaches and paperwork we’d prefer to avoid.”
“We were with them,” Brian said. “At a place called McDuffy’s in Georgetown. We heard online that’s the place to go if you’re not quite legal and want to get served.” He ventured a glance at Sam. “Are my parents going to hear about this?”
Sam gave him a “what do you think” look.
“How many drinks would you say Mindy and Jennifer consumed while you were with them?” Freddie asked.
“I don’t know,” Wednesday said, “maybe six? Or seven?”
“What were they drinking?”
“Jennifer likes cosmos, and Mindy prefers vodka on ice,” Wednesday said.
“Was it just the five of you?”
“From our group, yes,” Wednesday said. “Other people joined us during the night. A couple of guys started hitting on them, and they were dancing with them. When we were ready to leave, they told us to go ahead and they’d catch up.
I woke up this morning, and saw that they never came back, and when I tried to call their cell phones, the calls went right to voicemail.
Their phones are never off. Never. That’s when I started to get scared.
I let Mrs. McLane know that they hadn’t come back, and she notified hotel security. ”
“Can you describe the guys?” Sam asked, liking this less by the minute. Who leaves their friends alone with strange guys in a strange city?
“One of them had dark hair and eyes. The other one had lighter hair and blue eyes.”
“Call up the photo of Androzzi,” Sam said to Freddie, playing a hunch.
He produced the photo on his phone and handed it to her. “Was this one of them?”
“Yes!” Wednesday cried, her eyes widening. “Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately, we do.”
“Unfortunately?” Mrs. McLane asked. “What does that mean?”
“He’s a known human trafficker and is wanted in connection with the murder of our detective earlier this week.”
Sam watched as the older woman’s eyes rolled back in her head and moved quickly to catch her before she landed on the floor. She eased her onto the bed. Debbie came to, sobbing hysterically.
“We have to find them!” She struggled against one of the other women who tried to comfort her.
The third chaperone handed Sam a page with the missing girls’ cell numbers. “Write down their Twitter and Instagram info, too.”
While Brian held a sobbing Wednesday in his arms, Tyler pulled out his phone and looked up their accounts and added their profile info to the page.
“Is there anything else we need to know before we go looking for them?” Sam asked. “This is no time to keep secrets. Your friends’ lives may depend on you being forthcoming.”
Wednesday began to cry harder. “They… They… Tell them, Brian.”
The proverbial deer in the headlights, Brian could only stammer. “Uh… Um…”
“They run a YouTube channel,” Tyler said.
“What does that mean?” Sam asked.
“It’s like a webcam inside their dorm room where they give… performances… and stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Tyler blushed to the roots of his blond hair. “Sex stuff.”
“Fucking Christ,” Gonzo muttered under his breath. “They were targeted.”
Mrs. McLane only wailed louder. “We’re going to lose our jobs over this.”
“Be quiet, Debbie,” one of the other chaperones said, echoing Sam’s thoughts. “What can we do to help find them?”
“Get me the address of this YouTube channel.”
Tyler again took to his phone, his fingers flying over the screen. When he’d located what he was looking for, he handed the phone to Gonzo, who took down the URL.
Sam handed her card to the more rational chaperone. “You’re going to want to let their parents know what’s happened. Have them call me as soon as possible.”
Debbie’s wailing escalated to epic levels, which led to the rational one slapping her square across the face.
“Shut up right now. I mean it.”
Stunned into silence, Debbie whimpered pathetically.
“Well done,” Sam said to the slapper. To the rest of them, she said, “Call me if anyone hears from them in any format—tweet, Facebook post, Instagram, SnapChat, YouTube, whatever. Any contact from them is to be reported immediately. Got me?”
They nodded and mumbled their assurances.
“For their safety, we’re asking that you keep the information we shared with you about their abductor in this room. I will take care of informing their parents about his involvement when they call me. Do you understand?”
More murmurs and nods.
“If I see anything about this case anywhere online, we’ll start making arrests.” She left them with that and headed for the door, Gonzo and Cruz following her.
“Are they going to be okay?” a tearful coed asked.
“Let’s hope so,” Sam said.
The second they exited the hotel Sam, pulled out her phone to call Malone. When he took her call on the first ring, she said, “Our big problem just got a whole lot bigger.”