“We’re following a lead on the young man pictured in the photo with Chloe on her phone. We think he might know her from the Y. Do you recall Chloe talking with anyone while you were there?”
“She’s chatted with a few kids from time to time, I suppose. Nothing that stood out as unusual or improper. I mean, they’re all just kids.”
Dorie and Ellery exchanged a look. They’d both stood over a four-year-old boy shot in the head during a drive-by. The shooter turned out to be just sixteen years old. “Thank you, Mrs. Brimwood,” Dorie said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Ellery parked her SUV in the first available space by the YMCA and Dorie dropped a couple of quarters in the meter. “You think they’re ticketing this early?”
“City needs the money more than I do.”
They located the manager, a brown-skinned woman with kinky hair and lots of freckles who introduced herself as Freida Maxwell. Her T-shirt had Electric Mayhem, the band from the Muppet show, pictured on the front and she had a smile as big as Dr. Teeth himself. “How can I help you, Detectives?” she asked from behind the high counter.
“We’re trying to locate this boy,” Ellery replied as she showed off the picture she had of Chloe and the mystery kid on her phone. “He may go by the name Ty.”
Ms. Maxwell enlarged the photo with her fingers and studied it. “Oh, sure. Tyreek Cantrell. He’s one of our junior basketball coaches. Sweet kid.” Her brown eyes grew concerned as she handed the phone back to Ellery. “I hope he’s not in any trouble.”
“We’re definitely not out to make trouble for him,” Ellery said as a non-reply. “We just want to talk to him as a possible witness.”
She sighed. “That no-good cousin of his got himself mixed up in something again?”
“I can’t really get into it. Do you know where we can find Tyreek?”
“From two to five this afternoon, you should be able to find him here in the gym. Before that, he lives with his grandma over on Sycamore Street. She’s a nurse up at the medical center, so Ty’s on his own a lot.”
“Has he been in trouble before?” Dorie asked.
“Here and there. Nothing too serious, I don’t think, but he came to us originally as part of mandated community service about two years ago now. It’s his cousin Darius who’s the wild one. I always tell Ty he needs to think for himself and not just follow along with whatever his buddies are doing, but…” She shrugged. “Teenagers just want to belong.”
Dorie smiled. “As do we all.” She rapped the counter gently with her knuckles. “Thanks for your help.”
Back in the car, Ellery called in and requested a background check on Tyreek Cantrell. “Let’s see what ‘nothing too serious’ actually amounts to,” she said to Dorie.
“See what you can find out about the cousin while you’re at it. Darius?”
Ellery relayed the information that they had and then waited for a reply. She spotted a man in a suit wolfing down a breakfast sandwich and wished she’d grabbed more than a donut when she had picked up Dorie’s coffee. “I don’t know what this kid’s story is, but he didn’t seem from his exchange with Ashley like he knew where Chloe was. He was surprised to see her character turn up in the game.”
“Maybe because he has her stashed in a basement somewhere and wondered how the hell she got access to a computer.”
“If he does have her, he’s got to be sweating bullets by now.”
“Him and me both.” She unbuttoned her collar and squinted out the window at the hazy summer sky. “It’s supposed to be over ninety today. At least that’s something, huh? We don’t have to worry about Chloe out somewhere freezing to death.”
Ellery hummed an acknowledgment and turned her face away. It had been hot as the devil’s breath the night she was abducted, heat radiating back off the concrete even after dark. Coben had given her just enough water to survive and she’d had to beg him for every drop, her mouth open like a desperate baby bird’s while he’d laughed as it sloshed all over her face. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Let’s not wait for background. Let’s just head over there.”
Dorie gave her a long look as Ellery started the engine. “You okay?”
“It’s just the damn heat.” She wiped her forehead and then fiddled with the vents to point the air at her face.
Dorie settled back with a snort. “I hate to tell you this, Hathaway, but it only gets hotter from here.”
They drove a surprisingly long ten blocks to Sycamore Street. Records had already revealed Tyreek Cantrell’s address, which turned out to be a double-decker apartment that had several shingles missing on the left side. The tiny yard was well trimmed, but the walkway had cracked and become noticeably uneven. A cheery wreath with purple and white flowers hung on the left-side door. Before they could exit the car, a call came through for Ellery with the results of the background check on Tyreek.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “I see. He pled out?… What about the cousin?… Okay, great. If you could send me copies of those files, I’d appreciate it.”
“Well?” Dorie asked when she hung up.
Ellery cast another look at the house, which appeared quiet. “Tyreek was arrested two years ago on charges of aggravated rape of a female minor. He pled down to lewd behavior. The cousin, Darius, got three to five years.”
“Let me guess—he’s already out.”
“Released two months ago. Current address is in Hyde Park.”
“Well, let’s start rattling cages here,” Dorie said. “We can progress as necessary.”
They knocked sharply on the door of the lower unit, and when that did not produce a response, Ellery switched to pounding with the side of her fist. Eventually, the door cracked and a pair of hooded dark eyes peered out at them. “What do y’all want? It’s early.”
Ellery showed off her shield. “Detectives Hathaway and Bennett, Boston PD. Are you Tyreek Cantrell?”
He widened the door and Ellery saw his attire—boxers, bare feet, and a gray T-shirt. At least the kid wasn’t packing. “This is about Chloe, isn’t it?”
“We need to talk to you for a minute. Okay to come inside?”
“Yeah, all right,” he replied grudgingly. He scrubbed his considerable amount of hair with both hands. “I got to warn you, though—I don’t know nothing about where she’s at.”
Ellery stepped into the house, which was already warm. Drawn shades held back the worst of the heat in the living room, but the air felt like a wet blanket. Beads of sweat formed on the back of her neck as she surveyed the property. She did not see anything amiss, but the décor was an odd mix of old and new. The dated sofa showed worn patches on the arms, its pillows dented in each center. The coffee table had a slim paperback novel under it to hold it in place, and its wood veneer had a sizable chip on one side. Meanwhile, the 60-inch projection screen television practically gleamed. Ellery noted the gaming system similar to Chloe’s, complete with expensive headphones. In the corner, she saw a pair of black Nike running shoes that she knew retailed for more than a hundred dollars. “When was the last time you saw Chloe?” she asked him.