It’s been a fucked-up week. I’ve seen and talked to more unfit parents this week than I cared to and have gotten exactly nowhere.
Because of Opal Berry’s presence at the center, I decided to avoid going back there, not wanting to risk either of us giving away her involvement in this investigation. We’ve kept close tabs on Kramer, especially after discovering his real name and history, but that turned up nothing either. Then yesterday, he somehow managed to slip past our surveillance.
Gone for the entire day without his car, until he finally came walking down the street at nine thirty at night, letting himself into the front door to his tidy bungalow without a care in the world.
He may as well have flipped us off.
So I am clean out of patience today.
“Where are you?” Opal snaps right back.
She makes it clear again she’s not a woman to be messed with, despite her appearance of an almost nondescript, middle-aged housewife. The woman is hiding a steel core under that soft body, which makes me even more curious about her.
I’ve conferred with Jacob Branch a few times this week but every time I tried to find out more about his operative, he’s shut me down. The only lead I have to her real identity is her suspected connection to Transition House, a privately funded group home for teenagers which burned down under questionable circumstances nineteen years ago. Three people supposedly died in that fire, of which, Josh Kendrick, aka Mason Kramer was one.
Any and all records burned right along with the group home, which made that another fruitless pursuit for me this week.
“Heading out to grab some dinner. Why?”
“Because I may have something and I could use a second pair of eyes.”
Well, shit.
Wouldn’t that just take the cake, if this woman turns up something while we’ve been spinning our damn wheels all week.
“Gimme thirty minutes and you’d better be okay with Indian food.”
I don’t give her a chance to answer and end the call.
Matt volunteered to be part of the surveillance team on Kramer tonight, but I promised to drop him off dinner. We were able to gain access to a house for sale across the road, only two doors down from the director’s place. It has a good view of the front of the bungalow, but clearly, we needed to upgrade our surveillance after yesterday’s fiasco. Matt is in a van parked on a side street with a view of the rear of Kramer’s property, supported by the local law enforcement team until more FBI agents arrive tomorrow.
We’re throwing a lot of manpower at this case at the behest of the Lanark Police Department, but as it turns out, Georgia Braxton is related to Chief of Police Dennis Furmont. Her mother is his niece. The chief apparently has friends in high places.
My order is ready by the time I get to Tandoor and I’m glad I ordered plenty, it smells amazing, taunting me on the way to meet up with Matt.
“Everything quiet?” I ask when I hand him his order.
We’re standing behind the van so Matt can stretch his legs for a few minutes while still keeping an eye on the house.
“He got home twenty minutes ago and haven’t seen a move since.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t slip past us again.”
Matt turns to me with a grin.
“Oh ye of little faith,” he mocks before turning serious. “We’ve got a good setup here. I was able to mount a couple of motion sensor mini cams, covering the front and back of the house, I can monitor from the van. Anything moves, I’ll know. I just hope we’re not wasting our time with this guy.”
Even though Matt Driver is our team leader, because of my previous run-in with Opal Berry in Maryland he’s asked I be the forerunner in this case. The rest of the team—Joe Lampert, Phil Dresden, John Punani, and Adam Byron—are set to arrive tomorrow morning. Phil just came off family medical leave after the birth of his twin sons three months ago, and the other three just finished up a case in Delaware—the abduction of an infant from a hospital in Wilmington—which took a fuck of a long time to untangle.
His point is valid; pulling everyone in on this case may prove to be a waste of resources that could be of more value elsewhere, but somehow, I don’t think so. My gut says this case is bigger than one missing teenager.
Hope to hell my gut is right.
Matt opens the bag I handed him and takes a sniff while I gather my thoughts.
“Given the information Branch from GEM gave us, I don’t think so. According to him, while Kramer worked at Transition House, he was neck deep in the recruitment and grooming of kids in a sex exploitation ring. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think he might be involved in the disappearance of these girls.”
So far, we know of four girls who’ve disappeared without a trace, even though the only case we’re officially investigating is the missing Georgia Braxton. At this point, our best bet is to keep the fact we’re looking into the other girls under wraps. If we start asking too many questions, it might tip Kramer off and he could disappear, leaving us without any way to track the girls down.
“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” I offer.
“I know. It’s just frustrating, feels like we’re spinning our wheels.”
I don’t disagree, usually our CARD team is more actively searching for missing or abducted kids, but unfortunately in this case we’ve got nothing else to go on.
I also understand Matt’s reluctance to buy into Branch’s claims of an underage sex ring. Even though we found evidence of some rumors going around at the time of the fire—in particular an article in the local newspaper the week following—no reports were ever made or investigations ever launched. The story died right there.
Still, it was enough to give some credibility to Branch’s story. It also didn’t hurt GEM—and Jacob Branch in particular—came highly recommended by none other than the chief of FBI’s Violent Crimes Against Children program, Ian McCraig. He’d been able to tell me GEM was an acronym for Gather, Evaluate, Mobilize, and although the team is small—only three operatives from what I was able to gather—they’d apparently worked several cases with VCAC in the few years they’ve been in existence.
Maybe I’ll have a chance to pick Opal’s brain, see if she’ll be a bit more forthcoming. The woman is intriguing, to say the least. You’d never guess she’s an undercover operator and I’m more than curious to find out how she came to be one. I know next to nothing about her background, but I intend to find out more.
After all, I should at least know who I’m working with.
Or so I tell myself.
“I’m heading out.”
“Going back to the hotel?”
“After I check in with Opal, yes. She has something she wants me to look at.”
“I bet she does.”
I ignore his grin and start walking toward the rental, relieved when I hear the van door slide shut behind me.
Despite having been married for seven years with three kids right on top of each other—or perhaps because of it—Matt Driver can’t seem to shake his preoccupation with my love life since Becky and I got a divorce. Not that I’ve had much of one, nothing lasting anyway. I like sex as much as the next guy, but not enough to get drawn in by another set of long legs and a pretty smile.