Without Trace Page 20

This hospital had a good record for following clean protocol – also known as not sharing infections from patient to patient.

  When Doctor Yolanda came out, she said, “The last piece of shrapnel nicked his spinal cord before we got him under. We got it out, but it did some damage, and he can’t feel his feet. We hope that aspect will clear up with a little time.”

  “His infection?” asked Captain Reese.

  “It’s responding to antibiotic, but he’s allergic to penicillin so we had to use something not so powerful.”

  “Did he know about the penicillin?”

  “Not ‘til we tried it. He got a rash of welts all over his chest.”

  **

  After the worry about Sidney, Willie looked around. “Where’s Violeta?”

  Arwain said, “I haven’t seen her this afternoon.”

  Willie had a sudden premonition. “We’d better find her. You look in Glyn’s room. I’ll take the hospital cafeteria and the waiting lounges. Call me when you find her.”

  **

  Violeta stood in the eighth-floor hallway at Holly Hill Retirement staring at her phone. Glyn had called.

  “We’re worried. Where are you?”

  “No worries,” she said. “I am working. Work is harder when you are not here to help, so get well.”

  “And how do I say that in Spanish?”

  “You say “Si, Senorita.”

  He laughed. “Oh, so that’s how it is, eh?”

  Minutes and sweet talk later, when she hung up the phone, she reached into her pocket and brought out the key to Willie’s apartment. She was allowed to clean rooms now that she’d become a permanent member of the staff. Willie’s apartment needed a lot of cleaning since she hadn’t stopped any of her magazines. Stuff was all over the large coffee table, and the book stacks had grown in Willie’s and Glyn’s rooms.

  While she cleaned, Violeta searched for reasons to hope.

  As she organized the magazines by title, she realized that Willie had probably applied for every Readers’ Digest contest possible and had kept copies of her applications in the magazines. Violeta began organizing the contest applications by date into a file folder. Many were long past their due date, but Violeta kept them so she could show Willie that those contests had ended without a win for the Stamps clan.

  Violeta wondered if anyone had won. There were many entry dates. She’d never heard an announcement about winners. Flipping through a couple of magazines, she found no advertisement announcing winners there either.

  Did anyone ever check to see if there were winners? Was anyone aware and following up to see if these contests were the real thing?

  She came across an especially lumpy Readers’ Digest, the most recent issue. In its middle, she found an envelope addressed to Wilhalmena Stamps. It was sealed. She could tell Willie must have brought it up from the mailbox recently but hadn’t realized it was inside the magazine.

  She started to set it on the desk in the slot labeled ‘to read’ mail.

  The envelope wouldn’t fit in the already stuffed slot. It fell out and down to the floor.

  In very small print on the back, she saw the return address was for Geneva Oppenheim.

  Violeta knew it was Geneva’s talk that had sent Willie and Glyn to the right warehouse.

  She opened the letter and read the first line. “This is to warn you . . .”

  So, she opened the note all the way. The handwriting seemed hurried and cramped.

  This is to warn you, Willie. Doctor Sartan brought me back to get some clothes and while there, I saw someone I recognize. He was at the front desk acting like he wanted to visit someone living now in Holly Hill Retirement. I don’t know his name, but he works with International Relocation Services, and with the ones who keep children in the tree farm chemical warehouse next to the train track. They know I know, and I think he really was there looking for me.

  You must stop them.

  Geneva

  p.s. I’m sorry to have suspected you. I know you are not the cook. She was fat and ugly. Not you at all.

  Violeta grabbed her cell phone, locked herself in Willie’s apartment and dialed the number for Captain Reese.

  **

  Captain Reese was on his feet as soon as he heard what Violeta had found. “Get out of her apartment,” he said. “Take the letter hidden in your cleaning supplies. Go to the kitchen and stay in the kitchen with other people. Talk to no one about this.”

  He rounded up his detectives and sent a crew off to International Relocation Services in the Convention Center and the Rose Quarter area near the east end of the Steel Bridge. They moved on south toward the Burnside Bridge and the skate park, and the Hiltown Moving and Storage. Two men went to Elmore’s Vet Service.

  They had warrants, supplied by Judge Jones who was not a relative. He’d supplied it soon after hearing Willie and Henry’s vet story from Captain Reese.

  And now, with Geneva’s letter, they had a chance to tie the kidnappings to the businesses.

  Reese himself took three detectives and a plain car to the back of Holly Hill, where he knocked on the kitchen door.

  Chef Judson answered. “She’s here.”

  “Good,” Reese said. When Violeta came out of the linen storage, Reese said, “You two must mention this to no one. Any word of this and you’ll both be in danger.”

  Judson nodded.

  Violeta asked, “Do you want the note?”

  He reached out for it. “We’re untangling this mess of shell companies, who is involved and why, so talk to no one about this. Someone is afraid of Miss Oppenheim because of this information.”

  “Yes, sir.” Violeta glanced at Judson. “We are the only ones who know.”

  “Yes. Are you willing to testify to how you found it?”

  “Yes. I hope it will help get my sister back and find out who threatens Missus Oppenheim.”

  **

  Merlyn drove into Chico, California, with Augusto Aguirre navigating. Camelia and Susan talked quietly in the back seat, tense, yet hopeful.

  Augusto said, “Get off the freeway and find Sixth and Main. Buses run from near there along Fifth. I remember planting near here and the buses all went out of those areas.”

  Merlyn wheeled his Ford Taurus off at the next exit. He found Main with little trouble.

  “Looks like we’re in a college town here.”

  “Yes,” Camelia said. “I wanted the girls to go to Chico State, but our jobs got moved to tree farms farther north.”

  Susan leaned over Merlyn’s shoulder. “There, see the bus pulling out?”

  “I do.”

  “Let’s pull over and get out to see what looks possible as a place to hide any Hiltown vans, and maybe any other transportation they might use to move the girls farther south.”

  Just before they opened the car doors, Camelia said, “We need to stay together as couples. You remember, Augusto, how many times you were stopped on the streets here when it was just you or you and another Piñero.”

  “Si, si, si,” Augusto said. “I need my Camelia to keep me out of the police radar system. They are always hunting up those who don’t belong.”

  Susan said, “I bet that happens in Portland, too.”

  “It does,” he said.

  Merlyn said, “Really? In Portland?”

  Camelia laughed and said, “Did you just beam down from Jupiter?”

  Merlyn chuckled. “Nope. Beamed out of my math books and my piano dream world.”

  Augusto glanced around, “Did you see that van come out of that parking structure? Same size as Hiltown’s vans, but not the same color.”

  “Painted?” Camelia asked.

  “Good paint job,” Augusto said. “Not a fast cover-up.”

  “Okay,” Susan said. “Let’s go into this coffee shop and watch for other similar traffic.”

  They discovered that the coffee shop actually was upstairs and seemed to be run by a tall red-headed man who made them welcome right away.

&
nbsp; Camelia asked him, “May we sit by the windows. We’d like to look out on the streets and take in the town.”

  “Sure,” he said and wiped off a table for them.

  The two wives scooted in close to the windows.

  The taller husbands could see over them to the slightly farther away streets.

  “Looking for anything in particular?” the host asked.

  “Places for lots of people to stay for a day or two,” Augusto said.

  “And transportation for groups of six or more to other cities,” Susan added.

  “Ah,” he said. “Let me introduce myself. I’m the Presbyterian chaplain at the local college. Name’s Jim.”

  “Mucho gusto de conocer lo, Jim,” Augusto said.

  “El gusto es mio,” he said. “And recently, I’ve had my eye on that parking garage across Fifth down there.”

  Camelia said, very carefully, “Thank you. We’ll take a look.”

  He took their lunch order and went back to the kitchen.

  “That was weird,” Merlyn said.

  Augusto said, “You mean a chaplain running a lunch and coffee place.”

  “That, and him mentioning that same garage.”

  The four of them watched it for a time. Nothing came out or went into it. Then their lunch came. Augusto asked the host, “Isn’t being a chaplain a full-time job?”

  Jim hung his kitchen towel in his belt and said, “It is, and this shop is my church. Meet people where they are. Don’t wait for them to come to an empty building.”

  “Good idea,” Susan said, “But what interests you about the garage down there?”

  “I’m thinking it would make a great apartment building for low-income housing,” Jim said.

  “But it’s a garage.”

  “Part of the building is for cars, part is offices.”

  “But,” Augusto said, “We’ve been here for half an hour and not one vehicle has entered that garage. Is business that bad in this town?”

  “Not until this last week,” Jim said.

  Susan scooted over in the booth and said, “Could you sit down with us? We have a story to tell you.”

  He pulled over a chair and folded his tall self near the table, saying, “I thought you might.”

  Chapter Forty

  Pastor Jim accompanied Augusto to the building they suspected. They walked all around it, noting that not one light was on inside the offices.

  “A weekday at one in the afternoon,” Augusto said. “How likely is that?”

  Jim called a realtor friend and put him on speaker phone.

  “Yeah,” the realtor said, “that dump is empty. I got lots of clients looking for office space, but they cleared that place out four days ago. Said they had dangerous heating situation and it was going to take three months to make it right.”

  “I’ve seen no gas hook up here. What’s the danger?” Jim asked.

  The realtor friend said, “Nobody explained. Businesses out on the street with no warning.”

  Off the phone, Augusto asked, “Four days ago?”

  Jim asked, “That about the time of the van roll over you mentioned?”

  “Yes,” Camelia said. “Time to call the sheriff.”

  “I agree.”

  **

  Back in Portland, when Reese was gone with Geneva’s letter, Violeta sat down, put her head in her arms and sobbed.

  Judson came over close, took his apron off and put a hand on her arm.

  “Gal,” he said, “You been through Armageddon, and it ain’t over yet. I been praying they find your Rosaria soon. Real soon.”

  At that moment, Leneld and the Ancient Nation crew came in the back door fresh from the hospital. She knew they’d been visiting Trace and Glynn. She glanced at them and whispered, “I didn’t... I didn’t want all these people hurt.”

  Leneld sat down next to her. “Glyn, he’s getting better. We came to tell you. Claudia is awake from the Ketalar. Trace is sleeping normally and Sidney Seneca, his wound is starting to heal.”

  She looked up at him. “I . . .”

  Leneld nodded. “I know. But we’re going to find them. And we’ll all work to find Liza and Rosaria. It’s important to all of us.”

  Markus sat down too. “Can we take over your wait job for tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Judson said, “You go into the chapel and pray. Your Mamá and Papá will be back soon. You’ll see.”

  **

  In Chico, California, Susan and Merlyn hunkered near the car, talking to Camelia and Augusto. Glyn’s parents prepared to step around the armature that cut off the driveway to the building on Fifth. Each of them carried a couple of long towels, and a Mace canister supplied by the good pastor.

  Pastor Jim and two of his college student waiters stood next to his Peugeot. Jim watched and held his cell phone at the ready. His share of towels and Mace were in his apron pockets which he had left on when he flipped the Closed sign on the restaurant. His two waiter-students understood the plan.

  Each had a cell phone. One had the only rope they’d been able to find in the kitchen pantry. Everyone had the longest and strongest towels available to a well-stocked pub.

  Camelia stood to the right side of Merl’s Ford Taurus. Augusto sat in the driver’s side outside the parking lot because Susan thought it safer for the Aguirres not to be trespassing.

  Susan said, “Merl and me, we’re just a harmless couple who’ve lost our Subaru.”

  “Si, si, si,” Camelia nodded. “Whereas we get caught in there, and we are obviously looking to steal something.”

  “What?” Merlyn asked.

  “Merl,” Susan said. “Join the real world. Read the newspapers.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” he said. “That stuff. People making assumptions.”

  “Yes,” Camelia said. “Learn to think strategically. Avoid the white man and his fears.”

  Merlyn chuckled. “I’m sorry. On behalf of the naïve and the fearful, I apologize.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Augusto said. “Let’s do this thing and find our girls.”

  Susan noticed that Liza was now one of ‘our girls’ for Augusto. She pulled Merlyn with her toward the garage.

  Once inside, they saw another exit onto Fifth Avenue. The whole place echoed with every footstep.

  Susan bent down and picked up a lump of cloth.

  She whispered, “Look, Merl. Camelia does this kind of embroidery.”

  He stared at what seemed to be a little purse of velvet with a flower on the front.

  “A rose,” Merl whispered.

  Susan said, “They are here for sure.”

  He nodded. They started to descend the ramp, but heard an engine turn on in the lower level.

  A rough voice shouted, “They’re out cold and we gotta get going. You follow us closely.”

  Susan knew he meant the girls were out cold. She started to run down, but Merl yanked on Susan’s arm.

  “They’re down there,” Susan objected.

  “Use the plan! Get help.”

  She ran with him back up the ramp and hit the sidewalk waving at their confederates. Pastor Jim raised his phone just as a yellow van broke the wooden armature and roared out of the garage by the exit on Main Street. The van wheeled left down Fifth Avenue.

  The pastor clicked his phone camera, then jumped in his car talking to an operator. They heard him yell, “Mendez, they’re coming down Fifth.”

  He took off, following the yellow van.

  “A second van,” Merl yelled.

  Camelia leapt away from their car. Augusto swerved the car across the street, and then he rolled over to the right side and out the door Camelia had just vacated. The second yellow van shot out of the garage, turned the corner and plowed into Merl’s Taurus. Augusto jumped up on the sidewalk, yelled, “Get ‘em,” and ran to the driver’s side van door.

  Merl and Augusto opened each front door, pulling the driver and his confederate onto the street. A gun clattered to the street on the right side.<
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  The guys were big, muscled and ready to fight.

  “Yikes,” Susan yelled, and landed on the driver’s legs. As Augusto tied her guy’s hands with his share of towels, she saw under the van, on the other side. Camelia whacked the sideman in the head with his own gun. Merl yanked a big towel around his wrists.

  Other traffic on Main and Fifth screeched to a halt, avoiding the back of the van and what was left of the old Taurus.

  Several drivers nearby got out. Susan called to them, “Help us. Kidnappers.”

  Augusto came up with the keys from the van driver. They opened the door to the back. The stench came out first, nearly gagging Susan.

  “Girls,” she yelled and climbed in. Camelia followed and they tested each girl’s pulse.

  “Erratic and slow, and now no pulse.” Susan recognized the signs. “All drugged like Claudia and Arwain.”

  “This one has stopped beating.”

  “Call an ambulance,” Merl shouted to the other drivers. Then he saw that several cell phones were already up among them.

  Camelia called. “We need two more to do CPR on these girls. Susan, and you, Mrs....?”

  Susan reached down to help the third woman climb in. “Camelia will show you how.”

  Camelia called. “Gusto, get the first aid from the Taurus.”

  He was already handing them up to her. “Is she there?” he asked.

  “No,” Camelia said. “But these girls are very sick.” She handed Susan and the other woman a face guard for each victim’s mouth, and said, “Watch me.”

  Susan placed the mask over the girl nearest her and began pumping on her breastbone as Camelia did. The other woman seemed to know what she was doing already, so Susan glanced over at Camelia who pumped and counted to 20 and then blew into the mouth of the face guard three times.

  She did the same. She saw the girl’s chest rise, and went back to pumping, hoping to restart her heart.

  She knew Camelia was concentrating on starting the heart of the girl she had. Susan prayed that someone was doing the same for Liza and Rosaria. She, too, concentrated on the small blond she hoped to save.

  “Come on, Honey, Mama’s here. Come back to us.”

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  Pump and cajole. Pump and pray.

  Finally, Camelia’s girl coughed and rolled onto her side.