Stealth Moves (7 page)

“She’s a brat,” D. Vogel said. “In any case, I bet we find her in the café. Let’s go.”

Sure enough, Liv was where Officer Vogel predicted.

Now in the street before the Smallwood house, Holly asked, “Were you shadowing us?”

Vogel gave an abashed smile. “I’m assigned to watch her. She’s the only lead BPD has on this kidnapper. Frankly, we’re stumped. It doesn’t help that there’s a turf war going on. The FBI showed up to muscle us locals aside. Word’s come down that the Chief wants the department to prove we do more in Boston than bake beans. And so, I’m taking you to dinner.”

Holly couldn’t follow the disconnect. “What? Are you
asking me out
?”

“Nope. This is strictly business, or so my expense report will say. Call it an interview or call it liaising. Point is you have access to Olivia Smallwood every day. If she remembers anything, even the smallest detail, I want you to come to me. Best place to hammer out the details is Lugh’s—casual, good food, great drinks, and excellent Irish music. About seven?”

“I don’t even know your first name.”

“It’s Dan—Dan Vogel.”

Holly dressed with care for her date-not-a-date. She chose her best jeans, a shell of mixed blues and greens, and her new jagged-hem sweater. Her grandmother’s dainty charm bracelet would remind her to be ‘a lady’. That wasn’t easy for Holly: She knew she laughed too loud, talked when she chewed, and interrupted when she should listen. When she slow danced, she led.

She wouldn’t be dancing tonight. This wasn’t a date. Still, Dan Vogel was easy on the eyes, clever, and he held her dream job. Imagine working for a big city police force! Just hearing his stories would be exciting.

Holly found Liv’s uncle on the terrace. Cleaned up, Myron Smallwood looked different. The greasy, dark-blond hair was gone, replaced by a lighter shade, and he had arresting green eyes. Of course, he’d been glaring at her last night—not the best way to see eye color.

He surveyed her from head to toe. “Date?”

“More of a meeting.”

His expression gave no clue to his attitude. They hadn’t spoken since last night’s incident. “I’m really sorry I tackled you, Myron,” Holly ventured.

“I’m over it.” He took a seat in a wicker chair. “And call me Mike. What kind of meeting?”

“It’s about Liv, about the kidnappings. I’m having dinner with a police officer. His name’s Dan Vogel.”

Mike sat forward. “
Dan Vogel
? I went to school with him. Dan used to favor the wrong side of the law. He’s a cop?”

“He is,” Holly confirmed. She had fifteen minutes to wait. Why not talk with Mike about Dan? Sitting in the empty chair beside him, she asked, “What do you mean ‘wrong side of the law’?”

“Oh, it was kid stuff—climbing, mostly. In case you don’t know, climbing Beacon Hill houses is a major form of adolescent entertainment around here.”

Holly looked sideways at him. “Why would anyone want to climb houses?”

“For excitement. To swim in a rooftop infinity pool. To hold an impromptu party on someone’s balcony or roof and their parents none the wiser. Now, buildings like these…” He waved his hand toward the top floor of the Smallwood house. “…aren’t free-climbing challenges, but scaling the citadels on Beacon is sport.”

“Especially after a night of partying,” Holly guessed.

Mike smiled. “Anyway, if they gave out varsity letters for illicit climbing, Dan would have one, and now, he’s a cop.”

“And you’re…what? What do you do for a living?”

“Attorney.” He paused to shake his head. “Dan’s a cop; I’m an attorney. We grew up to be law-abiding citizens. Huh.”

Holly looked at Mike. They both smiled at the irony.

He said, “Well, a decade out of high school, life’s not so simple. This thing Liv’s involved with—this effort they’re making to free the kidnap victims—you think it will work?”

“No idea. I’m not even sure what they’re planning except videos and a concert.”

“Not a party?” Mike asked. “I thought Liv’s birthday party was on the agenda.”

“I didn’t hear about a party.”

“Her sixteenth birthday is on Halloween. She’s talked about a big bash. Maybe the idea is to make friends by inviting people; Liv didn’t have many friends last year. My mother’s threatened to cancel because—and I quote: ‘Coming home in a police car is
not
The Smallwood Way.’”

“Oh, no!” Holly moaned. “I didn’t want to get Liv into
that
much trouble. Poor kid. If I talked to Catherine, would she change her mind?”

“I doubt it. She fell asleep twice over dinner, which means she’s really upset. And when she starts citing ‘The Smallwood Way’, she’s pretty much made up her mind. My mother can be the queen of stubborn.”

Holly leaned on her hand, trying to think of how to fix the situation. She didn’t want Liv despondent. The girl had been through a lot already. “But, really, running off today wasn’t so bad. She thought she was helping her friend. I need to be smarter about her motives, learn to read her better. It didn’t occur to me she’d have a plan and allies. Yesterday, it was spontaneous.”

“Yesterday?” Mike asked. “What happened yesterday?”

Oh, God,
now I’ve done it.
“She was, uh, a little reluctant to leave school. It took some fancy footwork and bargaining on my part.”

“Such as…?”

“I promised my brother would star in her video. It’s all right,” Holly said quickly. “He’s agreed to take part. I just thought Liv would keep her deal.”

“She learned deceit from her mother,” Mike muttered, looking away.

“About Liv’s mother,” Holly began, but then her phone buzzed.

It was Dan. “Sorry. We’ll have to reschedule dinner. There’s been a development in the kidnapping case.”

“You’ve found them? Oh, please say you’ve found them alive.”

“No.” Dan’s voice went flat. “We’ve found something else.”

Day 6—Thursday

Holly clutched her phone. She told Dan, “You can’t just say you found ‘something’ and leave it at that!”

“It’s police business.”

“Not good enough. You want me to tell
you
if Liv remembers anything about Ariel Kelly’s kidnapping, don’t you?”

Silence. Then, “Do you have a police-band scanner?”

“No.”

“Well, if you did, you’d hear something’s going on at the Fens.”

“Fens?” Holly asked. “Where’s that?”

“In the Back Bay. Off Agassiz.” Dan added, “Look, I hate to stand you up for dinner. Another time?”

“Sure.”

Dan clicked off, and Holly turned to Mike. “You heard what he said?”

“Hard not to when you’re sitting a foot away. So?”

“So you have a car outside.” Holly plucked at Mike’s sleeve. “You can drive us there.”

“No way!” He shook off her grip. “I’ll lose my parking spot. What’s wrong with your motorcycle?”

Holly pretended to consider that option. “After you help me move an eight-hundred pound bike from the corridor up the steps to the street, I’ll be on my way.”

“Ah. Hadn’t thought of that. Still, why go? It isn’t our business.”

“Yes, it is.” Holly crossed her arms. “If they found—God forbid—a body, then Liv will be affected. It could be one of her friends. She shouldn’t get the news from the Internet. She should be told gently, by someone she trusts. She’s mad at me, so it has to be you or her grandmother. Either way, we need to know what’s up.”

Mike sighed. “All right. I’ll get my coat.”

Holly climbed into his black BMW. She guessed it was one of the more upscale models because the instrument panel looked like a starship. Mike used the video monitor to squeeze out of the tight parking space while Holly enjoyed the leathery-good smell and the subtle luxury of gleaming wood on doors, console and dash. She saw no personal items, not even Kleenex or mints. Holly marveled at Mike’s neatness; both her brothers were slobs, and she couldn’t claim to be better. Her car was a rolling purse.

Apparently feeling chatty, Mike gave Holly a history lesson while he drove. The Fens, he said, were the remnants of wetlands that once occupied the entire Back Bay. “After The Hill filled up, people wanted space to expand. They cleared most of the land for building but left some open for drainage. The Fens are parks and gardens surrounding the Muddy River.”

They reached a boulevard with trees on one side, townhouses and public buildings on the other. Too busy for a crime scene, Holly decided, until Mike turned left onto Agassiz, a one-lane street bordered by woods. Police cruiser lights flashed from an area on the left. Cars ahead crept along, some drivers pausing to talk to the officer who signaled with his flashlight to move on.

“No ambulance,” Holly noted, “so no body. That’s good, but oh! We can’t park here.” Holly pointed to the Tow-Away-Zone sign.

“Of course not. This is
Boston
,” Mike said wearily.

“Well, I’ll hop out the next time traffic stops. You circle around or kill time somewhere for a half hour or so and then come back to pick me up.”

“Very good, madam. Will there be anything else?”

Holly swiveled her head toward Mike. Was he angry? No. He was grinning. “Thanks for doing this,” she said.

“You owe me.”

“Fair enough.” When the car stopped, Holly scrambled out, heading toward a group of pedestrian gawkers. She asked around, but no one knew anything, so she turned her attention to a reporter being filmed by her cameraman. Trying to move in close enough to hear what the reporter was saying, Holly found her way blocked by a stony-faced cop.

Frustrated, and thinking about hiking into the woods to sneak back to the spot from another direction, Holly heard a familiar voice call her name. She turned to see Dan Vogel approaching.

Wearing a soft brown-leather jacket and jeans, he looked different—more relaxed and a lot sexier. “So you made it,” he said when he reached her.

“You give good hints.”

“Not always. Most of the time, I’m the tight-lipped type.” He touched her elbow. “Come over here where we can talk.” Dan led her away from the crowd. “You’re by yourself?”

“Mike Smallwood drove. He’s off somewhere, but he’ll be back.”

“Nice of him,” Dan said, but he didn’t say it nicely. “Mike’s always been a player. You should watch out for his charm.”

Were they talking about the same man? Mike Smallwood didn’t strike Holly as a player or a charmer, and the idea of him hitting on her was absurd. “Not a problem. Mike’s just curious. We both are. What did you find?”

Eyeing the reporter, Dan said, “It’ll be public knowledge soon, so you might as well know. We found Kyle Blake’s backpack in the weeds. The dogs are out now. Tomorrow, there’ll be divers.”

“Just the backpack?” Holly imagined other grim items a knapsack could hold. “Nothing…uh, nothing else?”

Dan shook his head. “Ordinary stuff: school books, notepads, class ring.”

Holly frowned. “Why would his ring be in the backpack? Don’t people usually wear those things? I never bought a class ring—couldn’t afford it.”

“I say Kyle Blake wanted to make a statement. Cut the school emblem out of your jacket, and leave the rest where it’s certain to be found. Heave your school bag into the muck—but not too far in. Make sure it’s near a path and that a ring with your initials is inside. Could there be a clearer way to say ‘Screw you!’? Blake may be a runaway.”

“That’s crazy. Why would a senior at a fancy school—a kid with big prospects for a golden future—give it all up? It’s more likely the kidnapper just wanted to ditch evidence.”

“
Here
? A dumpster would be easier and safer. It doesn’t add up. Instead of abductions, we may have an epidemic of kids on the run.”

“Not Ariel Kelly. Liv saw her taken.”

“She didn’t see the girl pulled into the van. Kelly could have been acting out a plan. I mean what kind of kidnapper would choose daylight on one of the busiest streets in Boston to snatch a victim? If anything’s crazy, that idea is.”

Holly rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m confused.”

“You’re not the only one. In fact—”

“Vogel!” An officer shouted from across the street. “If you’re done chatting up the girls, you think you could help out here?”

Dan gave Holly an apologetic smile. “Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He loped toward the other cops.

With food for thought but none in her belly, Holly was more than ready to leave. Most of the gawkers drifted away when the wind picked up. Clutching at her thin sweater as the first, fat drops of rain fell, she felt for her phone—and then realized she wasn’t carrying her shoulder bag. She left it in Mike’s car.

Holly dashed for the shelter of a tree that still had some leaves. She felt wretched, starved and alone. Shivering, Holly paced, watching the news team, bystanders and police leave—and still, she waited.

By the time she spotted the black Beemer slinking toward her, Holly was ready to hurl a few choice words at Mike. But when he called through the window, “There’s a blanket in the trunk,” and she saw the trunk lid go up, Holly focused on getting the tartan throw around her.

“Didn’t you realize it was raining?” She flounced down on her seat. “What took you so long?”

“I’m on time.” Mike pointed to the clock. “Ran a red light to make it. Streets around here are one way, and no one in Boston can drive when it rains. You’re soaked,” he added.

“I know.”

“What did you find out?”

“I’ll tell you once my teeth stop chattering.” Let
him
wait!

Mike broke the silence when they reached the Smallwood house. “Aw, crap,” he complained. “I suppose it was too much to hope my parking spot was still open. Here, get out and go inside. I’ll park at the garage, and then foot it home.”

“What garage?”

“Brimmer Street. We own two spots there.”

Holly squinted at him. “You
own
parking spaces in a garage?”

“It’s a parking condo. Couldn’t afford the spaces now—they cost more than this car—but Dad bought in early. Brimmer Street is a ways from here. I’ll be drenched when I get home. Have a hot toddy ready, okay?”

“A what?”

“Strong tea, honey, lemon.”

“Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“You owe me,” Mike reminded her. Rolling her eyes, Holly let herself into the house’s downstairs entrance and went to her terrace room, where she dumped her clothes in the shower, pulled on her thickest sweat suit, and wrapped her head with a towel. Feeling almost human, she went to the kitchen to make tea and finally get something to eat.