Abducted: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller Read online

  Abducted

  A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

  Book 3

  Glenn Rogers

  Copyright

  ©

  2014

  Glenn Rogers

  No Part of this material may be copied in any form without the express written permission of the author

  ISBN 978-0-9903940-3-7

  Published by

  Simpson and Brook, Publishers

  Estherville, IA

  Previously …

  (from book 2, Love and Lies)

  When it came time for Monica to leave Sunday night, she didn't really want to leave. I didn't really want her to go, either. But we had agreed that it was best to go slow. We kissed and I watched her walk out to her car. She’d be back at seven for our morning run. Then we'd each go to our own offices. I was ready to go back to work, and we did, after all, have businesses to run. She waved as she pulled away from the curb. It had been an amazing five weeks.

  Monday morning, I was ready to go at seven but Monica hadn’t shown up yet. She was almost never late. At seven fifteen, I called her cell. She didn't answer. When it rolled to voice mail, I left a message. She'd probably slept late and was in the shower. I sat down to read and wait. At eight fifteen, I called again. Still no answer. I left another message.

  I waited another hour before calling again. No answer. Left another message. Maybe there had been an accident. I spent some time calling hospitals near her home or those on the way to my place. Nothing. Thank God. Maybe she had car trouble. But in that case, she would have called. If she could have called, she would have. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she'd passed out or something. Or fallen and hit her head. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she realized what she was getting into and decided that I wasn't what she wanted. One weekend with me was all she could take. No. That didn't feel right. Even if she had changed her mind, Monica would not just walk away. She'd have been upfront with me. No, this wasn't about us. Something else had happened. But what? It didn't have to be anything terrible. She didn't have to be in danger or trouble or anything. Maybe she was helping someone with something. Still, in two hours she could have found a few seconds to make a call.

  I decided to go by her office. I put on my regular work clothes: Levis, light blue Oxford button down shirt, a pair of ankle-high hiking boots, and my tan corduroy sport coat. As I started for the door, I stopped and went back. I took off my jacket and shrugged into my shoulder holster. I got my .357 from the drawer next to my bed, checked the loads—it had an eight-shot cylinder, and slid it into the holster under my left arm. I slipped back into my jacket, and Wilson and I went out the door.

  It was a thirty-minute drive to Monica's office. I tried calling her again in route. No answer. When I got to the complex where Monica's office was, I looked around for her car. It was nowhere in sight. I went up to her office. The door was locked. I knocked. Nothing. I knocked harder and waited. Nothing. I went to the CPA firm across the hall and asked the receptionist if anyone there had seen Ms. Nolan. No one had seen or heard anything.

  I called her again as I went back out to my Jeep. No answer. Her apartment was about ten minutes away. I made it there in half that time. I kept telling myself that there was nothing to worry about. Monica was a capable person. I couldn't imagine too many situations that she couldn't handle. I began to think again that maybe the weekend had been too intense after all and that she needed to get away to have time to think. Maybe she caught a late flight last night or an early one this morning and went to Vegas. Vegas? She had family in Texas, somewhere near Dallas. Maybe she went there. Maybe her mother had a heart attack and Monica caught an early flight to DFW. She hadn't called because it was early and she didn't want to wake me. That's what she'd have thought. I was still recuperating from being shot in the chest and I needed my sleep. So, she wouldn't call. Then, once the plane took off, she couldn't call. When the plane lands, she'll call and explain what happened. Maybe. It was plausible. But again, it didn’t feel right.

  When I got to her apartment complex, I looked for her car. It was there. I went to her door and knocked. No answer. I went to the manager's office. No one there. I went back to Monica's door. It was mid-morning. People were around. Too bad. I needed to get into Monica's apartment. I took out my lock pick tools and went to work. In a few seconds the tumblers fell into place. Before opening the door, I pulled my gun. I'm not sure why I did. I hadn't consciously thought about any scenario that involved foul play, but something told me I needed to be ready.

  I opened the door slowly and looked in. Something was wrong. A chair was tipped over; a table had been knocked out of alignment. A lamp lay on the floor.

  “Monica,” I called.

  Nothing.

  Ready to shoot if I needed to, I moved cautiously through the front room. Monica’s purse sat on the counter that separated the kitchen from the small dining area. I went into the bedroom. The bed was unmade. Her cell phone lay on the table next to her bed. I put it in my pocket. There was a blouse on the floor. The closet door was open. Monica was a neat freak. She would not willingly leave her room looking like this.

  I went into the bathroom. A wet towel lay on the floor. Again, not neat freak Monica… at least, not if she’d had a choice. And then I saw it, blood on the floor. Not a lot. Just a couple of drops. But enough. And the items on the countertop had been knocked over or jostled out of place. Something happened here. Something bad. Something dangerous.

  I took out my cell and called Alex.

  “Jake,” he said, when he answered. “What's up?”

  “Monica's been taken.”

  Chapter 1

  Monday Morning

  “What do you mean, Monica's been taken?” Alex asked.

  “She's been abducted,” I said. “Taken from her apartment.”

  “Are you there now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I'm on my way.”

  “I'll call McGarry, too,” I said.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Alex said, and clicked off.

  Alex is one of my two best friends, Monica being the other one. Alex and I went through Quantico together and were assigned to the Organized Crime Unit of the Los Angeles Office of the FBI. I resigned from the agency after three years. Alex stayed on. He's now a Special Agent in Charge, a SAC, in the L.A. office.

  “McGarry,” Frank said, when he answered his cell.

  “Frank, Monica's been kidnapped. Taken from her apartment. I'm here now. Alex is on his way.”

  “Address,” he said.

  I gave it to him.

  “Twenty minutes,” he said, and clicked off.

  Frank is a captain on the LAPD, working homicide. We've been friends since we worked together on a joint FBI-LAPD task force nearly five years ago. I worked with his son-in-law as well. I was wounded getting him out of the line of fire. Frank was grateful, so he does what he can to help me now that I’m a private investigator and no longer have the advantage of a badge. He'll get a detective in missing persons to come with him and work with Alex and me on the case. Between the FBI, the LAPD, and me, we'll find Monica Nolan.

  While I waited for the police to arrive, I called Mildred, my office manager, and had her close the office and come get Wilson, my four-year-old Border Collie. The local police arrived and set up a crime scene. Mildred arrived a little while later. I explained what had happened, handed Wilson off to her, and told her I didn’t know when I’d be back at the office.

  Mildred looked me in the eye and said, “You’ll find her and she’ll be all right.”

  Once everyone arrived, the scene was chaotic. Frank had sent additional LAPD personnel. Alex had called in an FBI
forensics team. They were going over the apartment with a fine-toothed comb. Alex, Frank, Detective Kimberly Branch, and I stood together in the courtyard of the apartment complex. Neither Alex nor I had met Detective Branch before. I had already explained to her what I had found when I arrived.

  “So what do you need from me?” Branch asked Alex. She was in her mid thirties, around the same age as Alex and I.

  “Technically,” Alex said, “the FBI will be the lead agency. But we'd very much like this to be a joint effort.” Alex glanced briefly at me and then added, “And Jake, of course, should be considered as part of the investigative team. Extend to him the level of cooperation you would extend to me.”

  “With all due respect,” Branch said to Alex, “Mr. Badger is a civilian and he's emotionally involved with the victim. It's not appropriate for him to be part of the investigative team.”

  All three of us were looking at her. I could feel my temper rising.

  Frank said, “Detective, no one asked you for your opinion. Jake Badger is a former FBI agent and one of the best detectives you will ever meet. He is part of this investigative team. Is that understood?” Frank looked more like a corporate executive than a cop. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, red and blue-stripped tie, and black wingtips. But when he spoke there was an authority and a strength that few had the guts to question.

  “Yes, Captain,” Branch said. I almost felt sorry for her.

  Alex, wearing the same basic uniform as Frank, said, “I'd also like you to stay in the loop, Frank, even though this is not a homicide.”

  “That's why I'm here,” Frank said.

  Then to me, Alex said, “How do you want to begin?”

  I could see Branch's confusion. Alex was an FBI SAC. Why was he asking me how I wanted to handle things?

  “While your lab people are doing their thing,” I said, “we need to go over Monica's case files and see if we can find someone who's looking to even a score.”

  “You're convinced this is related to one of her cases?” Alex asked.

  “I'm not convinced of anything,” I said. “I just think it's the most logical place to begin. Given recent events, it could just as easily be someone in Esposito's organization.”

  “Want us to follow up on the Esposito angle?” Frank asked.

  “That would be helpful,” I said. “Work multiple tracks simultaneously.”

  Branch must have felt like she needed to contribute. “Time is of the essence,” she said. “The more time goes by, the less the likelihood there is of getting her back.”

  “Shut up, detective,” Frank barked, “or go wait in the car.”

  For a brief moment, Branch looked crushed, almost like a little girl. But she sucked it up. She folded her arms across her chest and nodded.

  “It's all right, Frank,” I said, trying to remain calm myself. “If this were a typical abduction, she'd be right.”

  “Why do you think it's not typical?” she asked.

  She had guts to ask the question given the way Frank had just bitten her head off.

  “Because this is not a kidnapping for ransom,” I said. “Whoever took her did it for revenge.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked.

  “What is it, detective,” Frank growled, “that you don't understand about shut up?”

  “I'm sorry, Sir,” she said. “But if I'm going to be part of this investigation, I need to be able to participate. And I need to understand the thinking of the lead investigator, which it appears is going to be Mr. Badger.”

  “It's okay, Frank,” I said, before he lowered the boom. “She's right.” Then to her, I said, “Please, call me Jake.”

  She didn't say anything.

  “She can't make a meaningful contribution,” I said, “if she doesn't understand what we're doing and why. Besides,” I added, “I like her. She's got spunk.”

  She glared at me impatiently, as if she thought I was patronizing her. Then she said, “You still didn't answer my question.”

  Frank was not happy with her, so I spoke up. “I don't think it's a kidnapping for ransom because there's no money to be had. Kidnappers don't just take people randomly. They select a target where there's the possibility of a substantial payday.” As I said that, though, I was thinking about the nine hundred thousand dollar fee Monica had just earned a few weeks earlier in the recovery of an Andy Warhol painting worth ninety million. But I decided to stay on the track I was on. “This isn't about a ransom. Given who Monica is, there's a greater likelihood that this is retaliation for something she did, a case she solved that involved a lot of money, or where someone went to jail, or died. In the last few weeks, she’s killed several people. Some of them were powerful people.”

  “I understand what you're saying. I just don't see any evidence that points in that direction.”

  Frank jumped in. “It's a logical deduction detective. A hunch, if you will. A lot of cases have been solved on the basis of a hunch.”

  Frank seemed to have calmed down a bit.

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Okay then,” Alex said. “Frank, you and Detective Branch will follow up on the Esposito angle while Jake and I go through Monica's case files.”

  Chapter 2

  Late Monday Morning

  Alex and I drove to Monica's office. Alex didn’t say much. He knew I was worried about Monica. Who could have taken her? Where’d they take her? Had they hurt her? Would they contact anyone? If their motive was revenge for something she had done, they wouldn’t contact anyone. They’d just do whatever they were going to do. We had to discover who had taken her and find them before they had time to carry out their plan.

  When we got to the business complex where Monica had her office, we went to the building manager’s office. Alex explained that there was an ongoing FBI investigation involving the disappearance of Monica Nolan. The manager, a young woman in her late twenties, was only too happy to cooperate. She opened Monica's office and provided us with a key so we could come and go if need be. She also volunteered that she was unaware of anything inappropriate occurring in or around Ms. Nolan’s office. We thanked her and she went away, leaving us to the task at hand.

  Alex went straight to the file cabinets. I took Monica's iPhone out of my pocket, and called her mother’s cell. I didn't want to make the call, but someone needed to. I didn't want it to be the FBI or LAPD. When I was an agent, I’d had to make some of those kinds of calls. I wanted this one to be more personal.

  “Hello.” The voice was friendly.

  “Hello. Mrs. Nolan?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Jake Badger. I’m a friend of Monica's.”

  “Oh, yes. Mr. Badger. Monica has told me about you. How are you doing? I hope you are recovering. You gave her quite a scare.”

  “Uh, yes, ma'am. I’m fine. Monica took good care of me. She’s probably the reason I'm still here.”

  “According to her, you're the reason she's still here. She says you took a bullet for her.”

  “She’d have done the same for me. We care about each other a great deal.”

  “That's good to hear, Mr. Badger. Very good to hear.”

  “Please, call me Jake.”

  “All right, Jake. And you should call me Patty.”

  “Okay.” I swallowed and then went on. “Um, I'm wondering if you've heard from Monica in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “No. Why? Is everything all right?”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, actually, no, it's not. It appears that Monica is missing.”

  “Oh, my Lord,” she said, the shock evident in her voice.

  “The FBI and the LAPD are working together to locate her,” I said.

  Fighting through the fear, she said, “What can I do to help?”

  “The most important thing you can do is call immediately if she calls you or if anyone else contacts you about her.”

  “What's your number?”

 
I gave it to her.

  “If I hear from her,” she said, “or from anyone else about her, I'll call.”

  “Thank you, Patty.”

  It was evident from the way her voice trembled that she was fighting back the tears. She asked, “Why would someone do this? We don't have any money.”

  “I don't think this is about money,” I said. “I think this may have to do with one of Monica's cases.”

  “Revenge?” Patty asked.

  Smart lady. She connected the dots quickly. “Maybe,” I said. “We're looking into it.”

  “Will you keep us informed?” she asked, her voice filled with fear.

  “Of course.”

  Losing the battle against the tears, she sobbed, “Please find my little girl.”

  “We'll find her,” I said. “I promise.” I don’t normally make promises like that, but these were not normal circumstances.

  After I disconnected, Alex asked, “That Monica's phone?”

  Alex rarely overlooked a detail. He had asked his forensic people if her cell phone was in her purse. It hadn't been.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “We gonna be able to go through it?” He was now at Monica's computer.

  “Yeah. Soon as I get her contacts list downloaded.”

  He nodded. He wasn’t going to harass me about having taken the phone.

  “Her paper files are well-organized,” he said, as he continued to type. “But I suspect she may have a lot of her files stored electronically. Which do you want to take, the file cabinet or the computer?”

  “You're the computer expert,” I said. “I'll take the file cabinet.”

  Eventually, we'd move the files and the computer to FBI offices. But we wanted to get started immediately, so we jumped right in.

  It only took Alex a few minutes to bypass Monica's security and access her files. He said he'd have to show her how to beef it up a bit. I went through the hard files, making notes as I went, looking for people who might hold a grudge. Alex began a similar list from her computer files. After an hour we had a combined list of two persons of interest. Not a lot to work with. Most of Monica’s cases had been background checks, investigating insurance claims, recovering stolen property and such. Not a lot of stuff that causes people to seek revenge against the investigator.