Chapter 32
Renz and I were off. My theory of Torrie being taken could be wrong, and Renz’s could be right. Hopefully, she was either sick or had left day working behind and moved on to greener pastures. For her sake, that would be the safest and smartest thing to do.
“What’s your take, Renz?”
He cocked his head as if giving my question more thought. “Honestly, I don’t know. Candy could be worrying about nothing, and we could be too.”
“Any day or night worker in that field needs to worry. They’re living on borrowed time. A crazed client could injure or kill the girls, or their piece-of-crap boss might do the same if provoked.”
Renz agreed. “Or he’d get them addicted so they can’t walk away.”
“But what if Torrie was taken by James Smith?”
“Jade, don’t jump to conclusions. How on earth would we know that unless she has cameras around her house.”
“I pray that she does.”
We finally reached Torrie’s home, and Renz parked along the curb.
So far, at least from the outside, everything appeared normal.
We walked to the front door and rang the bell.
I noticed that the porch light was off, and there weren’t any cameras along the front of the house.
Renz pressed the bell again, and I tipped my head to listen for footsteps but heard nothing.
“Let’s walk around to the back.”
I followed Renz into the small backyard and looked around. Nothing was amiss, and there weren’t any cameras there either. Renz gave the slider handle a yank, but it was locked. Pressing my face against the glass, I peered in, but again, everything looked fine. I knocked but didn’t get a response.
Renz shrugged. “Looks like she isn’t home.”
“But what if she is and can’t get to the door, or what if she’s dead inside?”
“Killing someone in their home and leaving them there isn’t James Smith’s MO, Jade. Come on. She isn’t here.”
Reluctantly, I followed Renz toward the front of the house. As we passed the side garage door, I gave the knob a turn—locked.
I groaned. We showed up but learned nothing.
We returned to the driveway, and I glanced at the overhead. “Hey, give me a boost. Those windows are too high to see inside from the ground.”
Renz interlocked his fingers, and I stepped onto his hand. I braced myself against the garage door until I was steady then looked through the dust-coated glass.
“Renz, her car is inside!”
“Can you tell what make, model, and color it is so we can confirm with Candy that it’s Torrie’s car?”
“Yeah, hang on. Just don’t drop me.” I wiped the dust off the windowpane then squinted to get a better read on the make and model. I did my best to read the plate number too. “Okay, let me down.”
Renz held onto my arm and lowered me until I could freely jump to the ground.
“What did you see?”
“She has a Maxima, probably from the early 2000s. It’s a dark color, but the garage is also dark. I’d feel safe to say it’s black. Either way, we can enter what I saw of her plate number and get the facts.”
“There isn’t a computer in the fleet car. Do you have a notepad with you?”
“Nope, but it looked like the plate number ends in LR2. That should be good enough. The first numbers and letters were in the shadows. So, should we make entry?”
“Hang on. Call Candy back first to confirm.”
I nodded. We had to play it by the books before we broke into Torrie’s house. I pressed the number from Candy’s earlier call, and she answered.
“Candy, it’s Agent Monroe. We’re at Torrie’s house, but she doesn’t answer the door. Do you know what kind of car she drives?”
I listened as Candy rattled off what I dreaded hearing. It was Torrie’s car in the garage. I thanked her, said we would update her when we knew more, and hung up.
“That’s Torrie’s car, Renz. How about we try the side entry before we destroy her front door?”
“Yeah, good idea.”
We returned to the side yard, and Renz sized up the door. He grumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s a steel door. Not easy to kick in like a wooden door would be.”
“Get out your lock-picking tools.”
Renz snickered. “Yeah, like I carry them around on a daily basis.”
“I thought the fleet cars came equipped with every necessity man could think of.”
“No, that would be SWAT, not an FBI fleet car.”
“Toss me the keys. I’ll check the glove box, console, and trunk.”
Renz shook his head. “Let’s both search the car. It’ll go faster.”
We returned to the car, and I took the interior compartments while Renz rifled through the trunk.
“How about this?” I walked to the rear of the car with a long screwdriver in hand.
“Why in the hell was that in the car?”
I shrugged. “Who knows, but maybe we can unscrew the doorknob and get in.”
“Or use this with the screwdriver.” Renz pulled out the lug wrench. “We can line up the screwdriver with the hinges and knock out the pins with the wrench.”
“Yeah, that might work, but let’s try the doorknob first. Seems like it might be easier.”
We took the tools to the side door and began. Unscrewing the knob was easy, but we had to push the inside knob off. With a good amount of force, Renz pushed the interior knob, but it only dangled on the other side.
“Damn it. Why isn’t it falling off?”
“It’s still attached to the strike plate. Apparently, getting the knob off isn’t as easy as we thought. Let’s try the hinges.”
We regrouped and got to work. I held the screwdriver while Renz hammered away at the pin using the wrench. The bottom pin came out, but I wasn’t sure how we would manage the top pin.
“Hang on, Renz. I’m sure I saw a couple of patio chairs in the back. As long as they’re sturdy, they should work.”
I ran to the backyard, grabbed both chairs, and dragged them to the door. They looked like they would easily hold each of us.
“These will do.”
Standing on the chairs, we pushed the pin upward by hitting it with the wrench. It began to move.
“It’s working, Renz.”
Seconds later, both pins were out, and we disconnected that side of the door from the hinges. I was able to squeeze through, turn the lock from the inside, and push the door out of our way.
“Finally!”
Renz and I entered the garage and looked around for things that could be suspicious. We checked the interior of the car and trunk for Torrie before anything else, but she wasn’t there.
“I hope to God that door going inside the house isn’t locked.”
Renz groaned. “At least it’s a wooden door if it is. I can knock that one in.”
We reached the door, and I gave the knob a turn—it didn’t budge.
“Damn it!”
“Stand back, Jade.”
I moved to the side, and Renz gave the door a hard shoulder blow. It crashed inward to the floor of the kitchen.
I gave him a “good job” nod, and we entered the house. I called out again, although I knew it was futile. Torrie was either dead or not there.
The house was small, and clearing it would take only a few minutes. That was first on our agenda, to make sure she wasn’t injured or dead. Torrie was nowhere to be found.
We slowed down and did a more thorough walk-through and checked for disturbances, blood, or items that seemed out of place.
The house was clean and orderly. I noticed a couple of unopened letters on the table, and my curiosity drew me closer.
I wanted to see the name on the envelope since we’d never asked Candy for Torrie’s last name.
Maybe she didn’t know, but now I did. Torrie Knowles was typed across the envelope.
I looked at Renz. “Now what? Her car is here, but there’s no sign of a purse or phone. Her charger is in the bedroom on the nightstand, but it’s the only one I saw.”
“Same here,” Renz said.
We stood in the kitchen and tried to think things through.
“If Torrie left on her own, she’d drive away, right?”
“Common sense says yeah, Jade.”
“Candy told me that Torrie walks to and from the gas station. If the car is usually left in the garage, then that means she encountered someone during her walk home yesterday.”
“Or—”
“Or what?”
“She could have stopped somewhere before she went home, met somebody, then left with that person.”
“Wouldn’t they have taken her to her house?” I thought about that for a second, but the short walking distance wouldn’t warrant someone driving her there. “Nah, she would have walked. She went with them to their place, but why?”
Renz added his take. “She knew them.”
“Maybe. Let’s fix that outer door then walk toward the gas station. We’ll see what’s between here and there.”
Securing the door again took a half hour, and that time, we left it unlocked in case we had to return.
It felt like time wasted, but we’d had no choice but to go in and check for Torrie.
She was what mattered. The fact that she, her phone, and her purse were gone didn’t sit well with me unless she’d had an innocent connection with someone and went home with them.
Why she didn’t return home or show up for work that morning was another thing altogether.
Renz and I set out on foot. Torrie lived a block off a well-traveled street that held several bars and retail spaces. I thought she might have stopped in one of the bars for a cold one before going home.
We turned the corner and entered All Hours Tavern and looked around. The place was nearly empty, and that would work in our favor. We cozied up to the bar on a couple of cracked vinyl barstools and ordered two Cokes. Our timing was perfect for asking questions.
Renz thanked the bartender for the drinks and told him who we were. He asked the bartender what his name was, and he replied that it was Cliff. Renz also asked if he knew Torrie.
“Torrie Knowles?”
I smiled. “So you do know her.”
“Sure, she’s a regular. Comes in maybe three times a week. She stays for an hour, has a beer or two, shoots the shit with me or the other bartenders, then heads home.” His forehead wrinkled. “Is Torrie in some kind of trouble?”
That was a loaded question and one I didn’t have an answer for.
Renz ignored Cliff’s question and asked one of his own. “When was Torrie here last?”
Cliff shrugged. “I have the weekend shift—Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I haven’t worked since Tuesday. If you want to come back later, Joe might be able to tell you. He worked this week from five p.m. until one a.m. each night.”
That would fit with Torrie’s work schedule and the time she would have been walking home.
We finished our drinks and thanked Cliff.
Renz left a couple of his cards on the bar for the other bartenders in case they remembered anything about the last time Torrie had been there. Renz and I continued down the street.
We passed a pawnshop and an automotive repair business, and at the next corner, we saw another bar.
“We truly are in Wisconsin,” I said. “There’s a bar on every corner.”
That one was Ed’s Corner Tap, an obvious name for a bar that stood on the corner of two busy streets.
We walked in and, once again, sat down at the bar. The barkeep gave us a once-over, likely trying to decide what branch of law enforcement we were in or what Silicon Valley tech company we represented at the conference going on in Milwaukee.
Without knowing how to address us, he gave us a nod.
“What can I get you?”
“Information,” Renz said.
The man smiled. “So you’re detectives?”
I smiled back. “Not quite. We’re FBI agents.”
“Nice. How can I help you? First, a beverage? I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Yes, that’s perfect. Thanks. Your name?” I asked.
“Mike.” He extended his hand, shook ours, then poured us coffee. “So, what kind of information do you need?” He laughed. “I could write a five-hundred-page novel.”
“Just what we wanted to hear. How about telling us first if you know Torrie Knowles.”
“Torrie? Sure. We flirt around a lot, but it’s just in fun.”
“When was she here last?”
Mike wiped the bar top with a wet cloth. “She came in last night.”
I gave Renz a quick glance then turned to Mike. “Was she alone?”
“Yeah, she was. We hung out while she had her usual beer. The bar wasn’t overly busy yet.”
“Then what?”
“Well, some stranger walked in a few minutes later. He came all the way to the end of the bar where she was sitting and took the empty seat next to her. Obviously trying to interrupt our conversation.”
“Were there other empty seats he could have taken?” Renz asked.
“Sure, at least three before he got to where Torrie was sitting.”
“So, did he strike up a conversation with her?”
“He did by saying he wanted what she was drinking. He acted like he didn’t know what an old-fashioned sweet was.” Mike shook his head. “Come on. I’m not buying that.”
I leaned forward and sipped my coffee. “What else?”
“Well, I didn’t want to be a third wheel, so I wandered off, but I did hear him say he wasn’t local.” Mike rubbed his forehead. “Where did he say he was from? Oh yeah, Michigan.”
“He must have introduced himself to Torrie by name, right?”
“Yeah. He said his name was Aaron.”
I pulled back. “Aaron from Michigan? That doesn’t ring a bell. What did he look like?”
Mike scratched his chin. “Hard to say. He wore glasses and a ball cap, but I didn’t pay attention to his hair color. It’s dark in here.”
I groaned. “That’s too bad.”
“He was clean-shaven, though.”
“Any chance you saw his eye color?” Renz asked.
Mike swatted the air. “Like I said, bars are dark. No chance of that.”
“So they had a conversation, and for how long?” I asked.
“They did and for a good while too. They left together after the guy bought a bottle of Merlot.”
“No shit? Did he pay with a credit card?”
“Nope, cash.”
“Damn it.” My adrenaline was increasing, and I felt that we were making progress. Maybe enough progress for Taft to keep us on the case. “Did they say where they were going? I mean, the guy must have driven here.”
“That’s what was weird. I’ve never seen that guy before in my life. It isn’t like West Allis has a big tourism draw, but he walked in and went directly to Torrie.” Mike shook his head. “In hindsight, I’d venture to say he followed her here.”
That was it. Beth’s killer had obviously seen the news broadcast where the white Camry was mentioned.
He knew it was caught on the gas station cameras.
He wasn’t going to make that mistake again, so he waited out of sight for Torrie then followed her to the bar.
It had to be James Smith, and he’d just abducted woman number three.
There could have been more before Della, but that, we didn’t know.
Yet there was one thing we knew for sure—they all worked the same street corner.
We thanked Mike for the coffee, and I pulled a twenty out of my pocket. He waved his hands.
“It’s my pleasure to help any branch of law enforcement. The coffee is on the house, but I do have a question.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Is Torrie okay?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “That much, we don’t know, Mike, but I sure as hell hope so.” I placed a couple of cards on the bar. “Call me if anything else comes to mind.”