Chapter Two
The day after his first meeting with Debra McAlister, Cade went to her home when she got off work and - under her watchful eyes - searched Sandy's room. McAlister stood in the room's doorway throughout the search, but said nothing until Cade started pulling drawers out of the dresser and turning them over onto the bed.
"What the hell are you doing? The MP's didn't see a need to wreck her room."
"They were afraid of you, ma'am. I'm not. Make yourself useful. Look at the bottoms of drawers and up inside the bureau they came from."
The blonde was agitated. "Look for what?"
Cade pulled out another drawer and dumped it, then pointed at the tape residue on the bottom.
"For anything unusual. The reports said that Sandy was always treating her friends to movies and snacks and the occasional taxi ride. They also say she was able to get them booze, that she wasn't employed and received only a small allowance from you, and that she had no other known sources of income. Where's her Dad?"
"He's in the Air Force in Colorado."
"Did he correspond with her? Send her things? Send her money? Maybe he tried to get her to come live with him?"
"No, he lives in a BOQ on base. There's no room in his life for a teen daughter. He sent gifts at all the usual times. Not money. Or if he did, I wasn't aware of it."
The fourth drawer also had tape residue in a pattern that had held a legal-sized envelope to the bottom of the drawer. He held the drawer's bottom where Sandy's mother could see it.
"Sandy's hiding place, or one of them. Any idea what was in the envelope?"
Debra McAlister shook her head slowly as she entered the room for a closer look.
"No. It could have just been a favorite letter, Cade. Something from her father or a boyfriend."
"Tape's stretched and deformed. It was a well-stuffed envelope."
"All right, then, maybe she was saving more than one letter."
"Maybe. Check under all the other drawers in the house while I finish in here."
"What am I looking for?"
"Anything you didn't put there," said Cade. "Don't forget the phone table in the hallway. We'll also be checking under all of the furniture."
It was a long afternoon, but the search paid off. Two un-dusty books on the top shelf of the shelves in the living room yielded three hundred dollars in twenties and a phone number written on a scrap of newspaper.
Debra wanted to call the number to see who answered, but Cade stopped her.
"Let me find out who the number belongs to first. I have a friend at the Bundespost. She disappeared without this money, but not without the other envelope. Does that mean she simply forgot about it, or that she couldn't get back here for it? Or maybe she thought she wouldn't need it or was saving it for later? Got any idea where she got three hundred bucks?"
The blonde woman's voice was small and soft. "No. I don't know, and I don't want to think about it."
As Cade was about to speak, Ms. McAlister raised a hand added, "Yes, I know I have to think about it and I am thinking about it. I just don't want to."
Cade nodded distractedly and looked around the room again.
"You don't have any kids, do you Cade? If you did, you'd know how hard this is for me."
He said, "Yeah, you're right, McAlister. I can't know how hard this is for you and I never will, so let's stay on track, here."
In a condescending tone, she said, "Oh, yes, you will. Someday you'll have kids of your own. Something will happen. Something always does. Then you'll understand."
Cade turned to face her and said, "I don't have to understand, I don't want to understand, and I won't ever have to understand, McAlister. My girlfriend had a bad scare in March of '71 when she thought she was pregnant. It was a false alarm, but the whole mess scared me as much as her, if not more. I realized that I very definitely didn't want children, so I did something about it."
"What..? You mean you had a vasectomy?"
He nodded. "Seventy bucks and three days of discomfort. No worries, ever."
Her shocked voice was almost shrill. "But what if you change your mind?"
Cade snapped, "That'll be my problem, not yours. Can we get back to searching, now? When you were her age, where did you keep your secrets? The ones that wouldn't fit in an envelope, that is? The ones you wouldn't dare keep inside the house?"
Debra seemed to have to regroup herself for a moment. Her anger resurfaced.
"I didn't have any secrets that wouldn't fit in an envelope, Mr. Cade. I take it we're moving the search outside, now?"
Cade nodded. "Yup. For now, anyway. We're looking for loose boards or bricks and we'll check all the bushes and look for fresh-turned dirt."
"I almost hate to ask, but what are you expecting to find?"
"Drugs, money, anything unusual. Why did you ask what you already knew?"
She didn't answer for a moment, then said, "I'm just having a hard time accepting the possibilities, I guess. Never mind. Let's go outside."
Cade held her coat for her as she slipped into it and then held her arm on the icy steps as they descended to the walkway. She seemed not to know what to do next, so he told her to tap on the house's skirting to see if any of the boards were loose.
As she tapped her way along the right side of the house, he tapped the left side, but neither of them discovered any unsecured boards. They met at the back of the house by the rear porch steps. Cade tried all those boards, too, but none felt as if they'd lift without the aid of a pry bar.
McAlister was looking up at the eaves and roof below her daughter's window when her foot rocked slightly. She stepped off that flagstone and onto the one behind it without thinking, never taking her eyes off the roof.
Cade walked over and stood looking down at the flagstone. It was about a foot and a half square, but Sandy wasn't a small girl. If she really wanted to, she could have moved that stone. Cade got his fingers under the edge of it and lifted it.
McAlister's soft exclamation told him he'd found something before he'd lifted the stone enough to see for himself.
"Oh, no..."
Cade pulled the stone to one side and saw the child's lunchbox that had been buried beneath it. It was a typical square metal lunchbox with cartoon characters embossed into the lid. He reached for it, but McAlister protested.
"Maybe we shouldn't touch it."
"We're wearing gloves and we need a look inside it before it disappears into an evidence locker."
Cade managed to work the lunchbox out of the hole without disturbing the surrounding dirt too much and set it to one side, then flipped the catch open and lifted the lid. Debra McAlister's knees gave out at the sight of the contents of the box. She was suddenly kneeling next to Cade and using his shoulder for support.
"Oh, no, not my little girl..? Please? Not my little girl?"
Cade said nothing as he lifted the flick-open knife off the top of a pile of condoms. It was one of the blade-in-the-handle knives. You shoved a button on the side inward and the blade shot forward out of the handle instantly. He tested it. It worked fine, but made McAlister startle rather ungently.
"Sorry," said Cade, returning the blade into the handle.
There were easily fifty or so condoms in the box. Cade handed the knife to McAlister and then shoved some of the condoms onto the lid as he searched the box. In the bottom right side of the box he found several joints and five one-hundred dollar bills in a blue Par Avion envelope with a Berlin return address.
Debra McAlister sobbed heavily, let the knife fall from her hand into the box, and tried to stand up. Her first attempt failed, and Cade got to his feet to help her, but she slapped his hand away with a sobbing, tearful snarl and heaved herself upright on shaky legs.
She climbed the steps to the back porch door, let herself in, and then found the door into the house locked. She picked up the brass ashtray and appeared to be on the verge of smashing the small window near the door handle, but after a moment of indecision, she put the ashtray down and came back down the steps.
Stopping a few feet from Cade, she fished through her pockets. Cade quickly handed her one of his handkerchiefs. She took it, then looked at it more closely.
"This is a paper towel."
"So? They do the job. I'll bring this stuff in if you want to go on ahead."
The wind was picking up a bit, whipping light flurries of snow into their faces. McAlister nodded and turned to go. Cade gathered everything into the box and followed after kicking the stone back into position to cover the hole.
He didn't hurry. She needed a few minutes to gather herself. Cade set the lunchbox on the front porch and stood watching the evening and thinking until he heard the front door open behind him.
"Aren't you cold?" she asked.
"Not enough to matter. Are you okay?"
She sighed. "No, but I've stopped crying for now and I put a pot of coffee on."
"Be right there, then."
Cade picked up the lunchbox and carried it into the house, then wondered where the hell to put it. McAlister didn't seem ready to deal with it, so he didn't feel right about setting it on the kitchen table. He looked around for a likely spot and felt a hand on his arm. Debra McAlister took the lunchbox and placed it on the kitchen counter, then threw a dishtowel over it.
She poured two coffees and set them on the table, then sat down with her back to the lunchbox and invited Cade to join her. Cade took his cup to the sink and added a bit of cold water, then sat in the chair next to hers.
A few minutes of silence passed before she stood up and quickly left the room. When she returned ten minutes or so later, she set a box of tissues on the table as she again took her seat.
Cade said, "I'm just going to sit here and soak up your coffee until you feel like talking. No hurry."
She nodded. Cade took out his memo book and wrote the name and address that he'd read from the envelope, then put the memo book back in his jacket pocket. Debra watched silently as he toed his boots off and put his feet up on one of the other chairs. He then settled back with his coffee and thought about how best to proceed.
Either Sandy had been hooking or she'd been keeping that box of stuff for one or more of her friends. There'd been nothing in any of the reports that could tie her to that sort of activity, but that might mean only that she'd never been caught.
Casual hooking - on base and off - was more common than anyone wanted to admit or believe. When military dependents were caught at it, the whole mess was normally handled quietly and the military parent or guardian was usually transferred elsewhere rather quickly.
When drugs were involved, the mess could get a lot messier, but the results were usually the same, eventually, unless the dependent was over seventeen and so deeply involved that charges had to be filed.
Sandy had left behind an eight hundred dollar stash, assuming that they'd found all of it. It seemed unlikely that she'd have left the money behind willingly. What seemed more likely was that she'd stumbled into something that she couldn't stumble back out of.
Turning the lunchbox over to the cops was the next thing to do. It should give them sufficient motivation to re-energize their investigations.
"Mr. Cade?"
"Here." Cade turned his attention to her.
"What now? Obviously, we have to bring in the police, but what can they do that they haven't already?"
"Probably not much. They've put their lines out like fishermen hoping for a nibble and you'll hear tales of budget woes and lack of time if you try to get them to do more than that without more than you have to show them. Hooking is only a misdemeanor in most of Germany, if that's what she was doing. And it could be that she was just holding that stuff for a friend."
"Do you believe that?"
"I don't have to believe or disbelieve it. It's just a possibility, like the possibility that she was hooking. We won't know until we find her, and maybe not even then."
"What does that mean? 'Not even then'? Are you suggesting she's dead?"
Cade sighed and said, "Won't know that until we find her, either. Are you sure you're up to talking about things like this, McAlister?"
Debra McAlister sat quite still for a moment, then said, "I guess I have to be, don't I? Sandy's been missing for months and we've just found evidence that she was involved in criminal activities. If she were your daughter, what would you do now?"
"Keep looking. There isn't anything else to do."
"And if you find her, what then?"
"I guess that would depend on her condition when I find her. Someone may have been holding her captive. The slave trade is something nobody wants to acknowledge, and it comes in a lot of flavors. The porn industry uses people without mercy. White, blonde women disappear into the Arab countries and wind up under a kind of house arrest. The native women hate them and will rat them out in an instant for any little thing, but if they try to leave, they'll be stoned in the streets, so they have no choice but to remain inside and in service to whoever bought them."
"You're serious? They really still do that?"
"Last year we - that is, my team - pulled four American and Canadian women out of Iran. Two were pregnant and it was a helluva trip over the mountains for them. They'd been bar hopping in Paris one night and they woke up in Iran with rotten hangovers the next night. They'd been there for over three years. As I understand it, one of them had enlisted the aid of a lovestruck young man to get word to the US embassy. He was 'accidentally' killed when the Savak caught him, but we had the four womens' names and locations and used the info before the women could be moved and hidden."
"What's the Savak?"
"Iranian Secret Police. Arab gestapo. Nasty bastards, every one of 'em."
"Does your office work for the embassy, too?"
"Nope. One of our informants at the embassy caught the info on the fly and relayed it to us, then sat on it for a full four days while we went in for the women. If she hadn't kept it quiet, the embassy pogues would have blown it by trying to negotiate matters. The Iranians would have given everybody blank looks and bullshit until the women were safely hidden elsewhere, then they'd have simply said that the info was wrong."
"So how did your people get them out?"
"We let the Savak guys find us with a deliberate tip, then 'borrowed' their uniforms to visit each of the locations like stormtroopers. Nobody in Iran argues with the Savak. The US embassy guys saw four Savak guys and four blondes in an overdressed Cadillac pull up to the gates and panicked a little, I guess. It took us fifteen minutes to convince them that we all belonged inside the compound. They arranged a helicopter ride out of Iran for us later."
"What happened to the men who bought the women?"
"Not a damned thing, as far as I know, but at least they're on somebody's watch list from now on."
"Do you think that's what happened to Sandy? That she's been kidnapped?"
"It wouldn't be the worst that could have happened to her. If she's alive, there's always a hope that she'll get away or get word out."
"If she's alive... Please don't talk like that, Mr. Cade. I know it's possible that she isn't, but..."
"Yeah. But. Okay. What I'd do now, Ms. McAlister, is give this stuff to the cops. I'd call both the MP's and the German police and ask them to be here at a specific time, then present the box and let them wrangle over who gets it. That will make sure everybody has to acknowledge the evidence later. Pro: It may give them a kick in the pants to get moving on the case. Con: Cops moving on the case may make someone react poorly and cause Sandy to be put either deeper into hiding or in danger. It would also expose Sandy as a possible hooker and jeopardize your position here, and we still don't know why or how she disappeared."
Debra McAlister stared at the cloth-covered box and shuddered.
"God, I hate letting anyone see what's inside that box..."
"You have to do it sooner or later. Do you have a camera, Deb?"
His use of her contracted name caused her to glance sharply at him.
"A what? Uh, yes, one of those instamatics. Why?"
"We need pictures of the stuff. If the whole mess gets swept under some bureaucratic rug, you'll need something to show the media."
"The media!? Jesus, Cade! Are you crazy? It's bad enough the cops have to see this... This stuff!"
"Uh, huh. And if the evidence disappears, you'll need a way to prove that there was something more to this than a runaway teen. Get the camera, please."
"Just hold on a minute, Cade. I want to know why you think there's any possibility that this box would 'disappear'."
Cade sighed. "Well, damn, McAlister, why don't you just think about that while I call John? You work for the embassy. You know that cases are dropped all the time for one reason or other, aren't they? Somebody's diplomatic toes might get tromped, or someone might be embarrassed, so something is ignored. The fact that it's your daughter who's missing instead of someone else's won't make any damned difference. You know how it goes, so don't play the Pollyanna with me and fordamnsure don't delude yourself. If they decided not to pursue this, you'd be on the first plane back to the states and the evidence would disappear."
She sputtered and stiffened, then started to make a reply that began with, "The US Embassy..." Cade held up a hand to stop her.
"Bullshit," he said flatly. "Don't forget who I work for, McAlister. Sometimes we have to work around you embassy types to get things done. I'll make that call to John while you bring me that camera."
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