“Then why hasn’t he contacted law enforcement already?” Kate counters, not about to back down.
She doesn’t really look the part, but this woman is a force to be reckoned with.
“There’s a reason he’s been asking questions,” she continues. “We just don’t know what it is. Hell, at this point assumptions are all we have, which is exactly why we should be more cautious in our approach.”
I watch as my teammates study her while contemplating her point. Again, it’s a valid one, proving once again the woman they officially know as Opal is much more than she appears. Something I’m already well aware of.
“Fair enough,” Matt concedes. “We’ll do it your way. This address you have, is it an office or a home address?”
“Home address. He doesn’t have an office to our knowledge. No permanent affiliation with any publication.”
“Makes sense,” I volunteer. “Being freelance, I imagine he’d likely work from home. Here,” I address Kate. “Sit down and pull it up on the screen. We can check satellite and street view to get an idea of the layout.”
She takes my place at the table and types in an address I recognize as Joyland, an area in Lexington just north of I-75 which once housed a well-known amusement park by the same name. It’s a similar neighborhood to the one I ended up in Richmond, with mostly one-story houses, but they were built a lot longer ago, after the park was torn down in 1965. I actually checked out a place there when I was looking, but being much older, it needed a bit too much work. From what I recall, the lots are fairly big, and parts of the neighborhood have a rural feel because of the proximity of farm fields to the north and east.
“Not an easy surveillance,” Adam, who joined us behind Kate, points out.
He’s right. It isn’t. The house Kate zoomed in on is a typical neighborhood bungalow, with attached garage, set back from the street, with a decent-sized front and back yard bordering a farm field in the rear.
“Won’t have a lot of coverage,” I note.
“Works in our favor too,” Kate pipes up. “No way anyone could take off without being seen.”
“So what’s the plan?” I ask her.
“Simple. We wait until your team has eyes on the rear, then drive by, and if we see his vehicle in his driveway I walk up to the door and knock.”
“You?”
She twists her head around and glances up at me, her eyes sparkling.
“Fine…we, but at least let me lead the way. I’m less threatening.”
“You think I’m threatening?”
She smirks. “Have you seen that scowl you wear?”
I don’t scowl. I look serious, we’re in a serious line of work.
“She’s got you there, buddy.”
Joe, who’s been quiet this whole time, chooses now to speak up. I send a glare his way.
“See? There it is,” he confirms, pointing at my face.
Matt decides to get this conversation back on track.
“We’ll take two vehicles. Opal and Mitch in one, Adam and Joe, you’re with me.”
Everyone jumps into action. The guys head downstairs to pull some surveillance gear together. Kate is out of her chair and disappears into the bedroom, presumably to grab her coat. Mine is hanging on the back of the chair she just vacated and I shrug it on.
“I never had a chance to say anything earlier,” Matt starts, a smirk on his face which has me brace for what’s coming. “But I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called this morning.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I refuse to look at him and concentrate on zipping up my coat. His chuckle grates on my nerves.
“This is me you’re talking to,” he says. “I recognized that loose-limbed gait of a man well-fucked.”
“Bite me, Driver,” I grumble.
“Nah, I’ll leave that to someone more qualified.”
“I’m good to go,” Kate announces as she reappears.
That bastard is still chuckling when we take the elevator down.
Opal
We’re parked around the corner from Remington’s address.
We noted his black Toyota Highlander parked in the driveway so drove out of sight to give the rest of the team a chance to get in position.
I’m edgy, I badly want my hunch to be true, that Melissa sought out the reporter for help, but doubt is starting to set in. These agents decided to indulge me, but if it turns out I was wrong, I would’ve taken away valuable time they should’ve spent looking for these kids.
“Stop fidgeting,” Mitch grumbles beside me. “Even if the girl isn’t there, we can still gain a lot from talking to Remington.”
His hand goes to his earpiece, pressing on it with his middle finger.
“Ten-four.”
Then he puts the car in drive and turns his eyes on me.
“Time to roll.”
Too late for second thoughts now. I force my nerves into submission and by the time Mitch pulls his vehicle in behind the Toyota—effectively blocking him in—I feel confidence return.
We don’t speak as we walk up to the front door, but I see Mitch notice the blinds moving in one of the smaller front windows. The door opens before we have a chance to knock, revealing the man I recognize from his picture.
“Lee Remington? My name is Opal Berry. I’m—”
“Feds,” he interrupts, glancing at Mitch.
“Actually, I’m not a federal agent, Mr. Remington,” I correct him. “Agent Kenny is, he works for CARD, which I’m sure you’re familiar with. I, however, work for GEM, an organization—”
“I know about GEM,” he interrupts again.
It’s starting to annoy me and, if not for the sudden pressure of Mitch’s hand in the small of my back, I would’ve let him know that in no uncertain words.
I’m here for a purpose.
“Exactly. I’m hoping you might be able to help us.”
He folds his arms over his chest and looks down his nose at me.
“And how is that?”
“We are investigating the disappearance of a number of children who frequently attended The Youth Center. You wrote an interesting article on the center last year.”
He doesn’t give an inch, simply standing there like an unmoving object, an impassive expression on his face.
“In your article you talk about who we believe to be one of the missing children, Melissa Romero.”
There is no reaction to the name whatsoever, which makes him even more suspect.
“Do you remember her, Mr. Remington?” I ask him directly.
“Vaguely.”
He shrugs as he lies through his teeth, but his head snaps around when he appears to hear something behind him.
“Is she here?”
“Why the hell would she be here?”
His reaction is immediate and betrays an emotion he’s been doing his best to hide, as he whips back to me, his eyes blazing.
He’d be a striking man if he wasn’t so unpleasant.
“Because, Mr. Remington, I spoke with a friend of hers at the center, who indicated Melissa might have been in trouble and was turning to someone who could help.”