Chapter Twelve
“I’m sorry to hear that, Camden.” Rochelle couldn’t imagine growing up without her parents. Her time with them had been too short, for sure, but she was grateful for every minute spent together.
“It’s fine,” he said. “The tricky part is that we recently learned that she’s been talking to our grandfather.” He made a face.
“Does that blow your mind?”
“Well, yeah, wouldn’t it blow yours?” he asked. Before she could answer, he continued, “I haven’t heard from her since I was a kid. Too young to have much more than a couple of distant memories. But I grew up wondering what the hell I’d done wrong to make my own mother run off.”
Her heart ached for him when he put it like that. “That’s awful, Camden. There are no words.” She paused long enough to take another bite of food. “So she just left without warning, and you never heard from her again?”
“Yes,” he said.
Wow. Rochelle could scarcely fathom a parent abandoning their young child. Or what kind of circumstances would make someone to that to something so defenseless.
“And you have a brother and a sister, right?” she asked.
“That’s right,” he said, shaking his head.
“Did she ever say why she left?” Rochelle asked.
“Why would I ever speak to the woman?”
Rochelle realized she’d walked into defensive territory with Camden. “Believe me when I say there’s no excuse for turning your back on your children. But I think I’d always wonder about it if I didn’t give her the chance to explain herself.”
“Yeah? That’s where the two of us are different,” he said with a coldness in his voice she hadn’t heard before. He had every right to be upset.
“You aren’t the least bit curious about her?” she asked.
“I can’t deny that I’ve had the occasional fleeting question or two while I’m getting a physical and the nurse or doctor asks about family history,” he admitted.
“You never asked your grandparents?”
“Nah,” he said. “No real reason to and I didn’t want them to think they weren’t enough.”
“What if your mother had been calling to check on her children all these years?” she asked. “Would that change your impression of her?”
His full armor came up. “Why would I care?”
“Point taken,” she said. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Are you finished eating?” he asked. Not exactly a subtle hint, considering her food wrappers were empty.
“Sure,” she said softly. “We should head to the Laundromat.”
With a curt nod, he stood up and then stacked his tray on top of hers before taking both to the garbage. A sign above the trash read: Your Mother Doesn’t Live Here. Clean Your Own Table.
She followed after grabbing the empty drinks, and wondered what the tip jar at the cash register had been for.
They’d stood at a cash register to give their order much like every fast-food chain she’d ever patronized.
They’d picked up their order when their name had been called.
And they’d bussed their own table when they were finished eating.
Last she checked, tips were for service.
Maybe she should slide herself a couple of bucks instead.
The thought amused her, which was much needed after the serious conversation with Camden and the reality of diving back into the investigation.
Since the Laundromat was close and they would arrive within the office hours listed, she didn’t see the need to call ahead.
If the owner wasn’t there, she could get his number and they could drop by his or her home.
Surprise visits often revealed how much someone already knew.
When they expected you, they had information.
Or were guilty of something. Because most honest people reached out to law enforcement to offer information or help if their establishment was at the center of a criminal case.
The drive was as short as it was quiet.
Camden hopped out of the driver’s seat and came around the front of the truck to open her door at the same time she exited the truck. There wasn’t time for courtesies, no matter how much she appreciated the attempt at chivalry.
Kage was dangerous. If he was innocent, he could get in the way. If he was guilty, then he’d just evaded arrest.
However, nothing inside his apartment pointed toward guilt.
On the surface, at least, he appeared to be walking the line.
Jumping from a white-collar crime like mail fraud to kidnapping and murder was a stretch.
Plus, the ball-cap issue, a small detail that didn’t add up.
She would have like to go over the nightclub footage with Kage to get his reaction.
While deep in thought, Rochelle barely noticed they’d reached the glass doors of the Laundromat. Camden held one open for her. A bell chimed.
The place was kept tidy. Clean, white machines lined the walls.
Those were the dryers. Washers were in a row in the middle of the room, splitting it in half.
At the end of each row was a table for folding.
Metal laundry carts dotted the space. To the right was an office and what looked like a two-way mirror.
Several machines were in various stages of their wash cycles.
A set of chairs against the back wall were mostly empty, save for one person who stared at the phone in their hand, not bothering to do much more than glance at them as they entered the space.
A sign on the door boasted late-night hours.
The place was cleaner than Rochelle expected.
She had to give it to the owner. The person ran a tight ship. Was it always this well-kept?
Camden tapped on the door.
A few seconds later, an older Asian female emerged.
“My name is Camden Remington and I’m a US Marshal,” he began, offering a handshake.
She nodded before taking the offering. “Millie Wong.”
“This is my partner, Detective Rochelle Paddock,” he continued.
“How may I help you?” Millie asked. She was five-one with a head of mostly black hair. Gray crept in. She had a round face and a warm smile.
“Are you the owner?” Camden asked.
“Yes,” Millie said.
“Are you aware a female was reported missing after visiting your establishment?” he asked.
Millie’s gaze widened. “No. Can’t say that I am.”
“I noticed you have cameras,” he said, motioning toward the corner of the room.
Millie nodded and waved them into her office, padding in first. “Yes. Yes. Tell me the day and I will see what I can find.”
The small space was every bit as neat as the rest of the Laundromat. Several folding chairs were stacked in one corner. An oak desk was pushed up against the corner.
“Would you like to sit?” Millie asked, motioning toward the stack.
Camden nodded, retrieved two chairs, and then set them up to view the computer screen on Millie’s desk.
“I don’t have video because it would take too much memory,” she explained. “But the cameras take pictures for me every so often.” She threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know exactly how it works because my son set it up for me.”
“Pictures work,” Camden said.
“First, could I ask you to take a look at one of my pictures?” Rochelle asked, retrieving her cell from her handbag. Someone who ran a tight operation like this one might keep a good eye on her clientele. If Kage was a regular, she might recognize him.
“Yes, of course,” Millie said. The woman had an almost regal bearing.
After positively identifying herself to her phone, she thumbed through pictures until she found a good one of Kage’s face. She held out the screen. “Do you recognize this man?”
“Oh, yes,” Millie said as her face lit up. “He is a regular customer of mine.”
“Do you know his name?” Rochelle asked.
“No,” Millie admitted. “It never came up. He says hello and I respond. I ask how his day is going, and he tells me. We never got to a first-name basis.” Her expression dropped.
“Is he alright? Did something happen?” And then it dawned on her when realization played out across her features.
“Oh. Really? You think he might be connected to the lady who went missing?”
“That surprises you?” Camden asked.
“Yes,” Millie admitted. “It does. Very much. He is always so polite.” She shrugged after a thoughtful pause. “But I guess you don’t really know a person, do you?”
“I’m rarely surprised anymore,” Camden said. “Job hazard.”
Millie offered a thoughtful smile. Then, she turned to the keyboard. A moment later, the screen came to life. “When did this happen?”
They gave the date and then Millie’s fingers went to work.
“Let’s see,” she said as images clicked across the screen. She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, studying the time-stamped pictures. “Hold on. He usually comes in later.”
Day turned to evening as she fast-clicked. And then she stopped. Several photos ticked by. Then, bam.
“Here he is,” Millie said.
Kage was at the Laundromat on the night in question.