Hunt for a Phantom Read online

  “I don’t know. I suppose he’ll call her girl friends as well.”

  Mitch nodded. “Yeah. One of them might know.”

  Joe looked hard at his son. “Ray, are you sure you don’t know where she might be?”

  Mitch knew his father was serious; even he rarely called him “Ray” anymore, unless he considered the matter vital. “No; I have no idea. Besides, I don’t think she would have told me anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well... Grace and me had a fight the other day. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”

  Joe nodded in understanding. “So that’s why you’ve moped around here the last couple of days. What was it about?”

  Mitch was reluctant to say, especially with his mom in the room, listening attentively. “You know,” he said, sure that his dad would figure it out.

  He did. “Oh.” He glanced over to his wife. In spite of Mitch’s precaution he saw that Jenny understood. He put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s talk about this in your room.”

  The two went up the stairs. Jenny knew when to leave the men to themselves. She went to the kitchen to make a show to an absent audience, busying herself at preparing a dinner which she knew none of them were in the mood to eat.

  Mitch sat at his desk and Joe closed the door behind them, a gesture of privacy; even with it open Jenny could not hear them from downstairs. He sat on the bed facing his son.

  “The argument was about having sex, wasn’t it?”

  Mitch nodded, his head slightly bowed.

  “You know what I think about kids your age having sex.”

  “Yeah, dad; and I feel the same way.” He felt more comfortable opening up to his dad when it was just them. “I love Grace, and I can’t see myself with any other girl. Maybe one day she’ll marry me, and then we’ll do it. But I don’t want to take the chance on having a child that we’re not ready to take care of.”

  Joe’s silence was unspoken approval of his son’s attitude. Mitch was a good boy. A lot of the girls had gone after him, but he had been with Grace since middle school, and he felt himself that what they had was real.

  But they had talked about this before. Grace seemed to be in a rush to seal their feelings for each other, and the only way she saw to do it was by having sex. Mitch had refused her several times before, and at least once had temporarily broken up because of it. Was this time final?

  “You made the right choice, son. And if Grace really loves you, she’ll come back to you.”

  “I’m not sure,” Mitch said, his gaze locked on his father’s shoes. “Not this time.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it wasn’t like before. The other times she said we had to do it for me to prove my love for her. This time she said...”

  “Said what, son?”

  “She said I didn’t want to do it because I couldn’t do it, because I’m not man enough for her.”

  Joe felt a disturbance in his stomach that suggested something about Grace that he didn’t want to accept. But this was obviously affecting his son, and in ways that he liked even less. “Did she actually say that to you?”

  “Yes. She’s changed lately, dad. She sent me links to some videos on the web. Videos of couples...” His gesture finished the sentence. “You know the site.”

  Joe nodded. He wondered sometimes how the owners of these sites could allow some of those homemade videos to be posted. Freedom of expression didn’t give one freedom to offend, yet there were more out there who were offended by some of the trash in the various popular media than were entertained by it. At least, he hoped so.

  “You think she’s gotten into watching porn, and it’s doing something to her morals?”

  Mitch’s face was a mute but eloquent answer.

  Joe and Mitch sat silently for a few long moments.

  “Do you want me to tell Mr. Fleming about this?”

  “I don’t know, dad. Maybe not yet. Maybe after Grace comes home.”

  Joe smiled grimly. Some men might not see it that way, but he was glad that he had raised a son who was both sensitive and strong. As he rose and regarded Mitch, bent with worry over his girl, he reflected that his son would need that strength in whatever was coming next. He placed his hand on Mitch’s shoulder, hoping that some of his own strength might flow through, and be joined with his son’s.

  He opened the door to hear an apathetic call to dinner. He turned to Mitch and gave a beckoning nod and the two went down to the kitchen.

  * * *

  As he said he would, Fleming went to the school, after calling a half cup of coffee his breakfast. He hit pay dirt of a sort right off. He talked to one of the school security guards, showing him a picture.

  “Yeah, I saw her. She came out of school about lunch time, with a bunch of others. When it was time to go in she stayed out. She was calling someone on her cell.”

  “Did you hear who it was?”

  “Nah, I wasn’t close enough. She stood there a few moments like she was waiting for someone. She tried to keep out of my sight, but I followed her.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Around the front of the school. I stayed back so she didn’t see me. After a few minutes a cab came and picked her up.”

  “Did you see the name of the cab company?”

  “Yeah.” The guard gave it to him. “I remember, it was one of them blue jobs.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.” He dialed 411 on his cell, got the number of the cab company and dialed it. “Hello, I need information on a fare one of your drivers picked up earlier today. No, I’m not a detective. No, I’m not a police officer. It was my daughter. What do you mean, how do you know she was my daughter?” He managed to reserve the chosen expletive until after he had snapped the phone shut.

  He dialed 911. “I want to report a missing person. It’s my daughter. Yes, she’s over eighteen. What do you mean, she has to be missing for 24 hours?” This time the expletive burned the ears of the prim and proper 911 agent.

  He dialed again, the number of a family friend. “Don, what was the name of that PI you hired once?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mark Banning was about six foot and muscular beneath the off the rack suit. His hair was dark and combed back smooth. He listened to Al Fleming’s story. Unfortunately, he had heard tales such as this before. Many of them ended badly. Banning hoped this was one of the exceptions.

  “You think she was going in the cab to meet someone?” Banning asked.

  “Yes. She was running away, and I don’t know how far.”

  “Does she have a credit card?”

  “Yes, against my better judgment. She said she needed it for her Internet account.”

  Banning nodded. “Of course she wanted her own account, separate from yours.”

  “Of course. That’s so we couldn’t track where she was going.”

  “But you have some idea of that, don’t you?”

  Fleming smiled. “She doesn’t know it, but I know her email logon.”

  “Her ID and password both?”

  “Yep. Her brother hacked into her account and found it.”

  Banning smiled. “Sometimes those skills can be useful. What about her computer?”

  “It’s a laptop, and she took it with her.”

  “Hmmm. Well, there’s no tracing the sites that she’s been to. But if you know how to get into her email account, we can see what’s there.”

  “How?”

  “Personal email can be accessed from any computer. All you need to know are the logins.” Banning paused and thought before asking his next question. “Have you contacted the police or the FBI?”

  “I called the police when she first vanished, and they said she’s not counted as a missing person until twenty-four hours, because she’s over eighteen. That will be this afternoon. I’ll call them again.”

  “They’ll probably put out an Amber alert then. What about the FBI? If she’s taken across state lines it’s
in their jurisdiction.”

  “My buddy Don Stegler recommended you.”

  “Oh yes, I remember him. The police will probably call in the FBI when they issue the Amber. But still, why did you come to me?”

  “I wanted to do something, get somebody working on it before the police. Besides, I hoped you would be more discreet.”

  “I’ll be as discreet as I can, but what you really want is for the cops to get moving on this. I’ve got a friend in Towson; he works in homicide, but maybe he can light a fire in the right place and get the ball rolling sooner.”

  “Will you help me in the meantime?”

  “All right. I’ll do some preliminary work and present it to the police. Maybe we’ll find Grace or a good clue to her whereabouts before they get started.” Banning stood and told Fleming to follow him. They went to the outer office where Betsy, his assistant, sat. “Betsy, I’ve got some computer work for you to do. Open your laptop.”

  Betsy was small and slender with short auburn hair that curved about her face and neck. She got her laptop from a drawer and opened it up, turning it on.

  “Go into the net and pull up Yahoo,” Banning told her.

  The laptop was equipped with a wireless modem so it was a matter of moments when the Yahoo screen popped up. On Banning’s instructions, Fleming gave her the login info and she signed on as Grace. The girl’s email screen showed.

  Several of them were from the same account, someone who called himself studly101. Without further prompting Betsy opened each email from studly101. It only took a couple of messages to get the idea.

  “Mr. Fleming, it looks like Grace is with somebody she met on the Internet.”

  Fleming frowned and rapped the desk. “I was afraid of that. The other night she was on her computer when I went in to say good night. She was trying to hide it from me.”

  “Teenage girls don’t want their daddies knowing all that they do,” Betsy said.

  “But if I had insisted on seeing what was on her screen, maybe I could have stopped her. She was probably emailing him last night.”

  “Probably. There’s no use beating yourself up about what you might have done.” He leaned over Betsy’s shoulder. “What does that last message say?”

  Betsy pulled up the most recent one. “It says for her to get a cab about noon yesterday. Does she have a cell phone?”

  “What teenage girl doesn’t?”

  “Sorry. Silly question. She probably called him once she got the cab and got further instructions.”

  “In which case we can track the call. Who is her phone company?”

  “Comcast.”

  “Betsy, get me their number and switch the call to my office. Come back in, Mr. Fleming.”

  They returned to Banning’s office and in a few moments the phone rang. Banning picked it up. “Hello. My name is Mark Banning; I’m a private investigator.” He gave his license number. “I want to trace a call that was made from a cell phone yesterday about noon time.” He listened for a moment. “What do you mean you can’t give out that information?” He listened again. “All right. I have friends who can do this for me.” He hung up. “They won’t give me the information. That’s all right, I was calling Ed Taylor anyway.” He speed-dialed a number and waited for the answer. “Hey Ed, this is Banning. It’s about a missing girl. I need for you to pull some phone records.”

  “Is this the Fleming girl?” Taylor asked.

  “Yeah. The father wants me to help find her, and the phone company has given me a stall.”

  “What’s the number?”

  Banning gave it to him.

  “All right. I’ll give them your fax number, as long as you promise to share.”

  “Hey, I learned all about that in kindergarten. Thanks, Ed.”

  “How soon do you think he’ll have the information?”

  “We’ll have it in about an hour.”

  “Meanwhile God only knows what’s being done to my daughter.”

  Banning placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  * * *

  Instead of the expected fax Banning got a phone call from Taylor, about an hour later. Fleming had stayed in the waiting room the whole time, and Banning motioned him in. Banning put the phone on speaker and introduced them. “The phone company called me to ask if I still wanted the information,” Taylor said.

  “Why?” Banning asked.

  “Because the only call she made at noon besides the one to the cab company was to a throwaway cell. They’re untraceable and there’s no way of knowing who she called.”

  “Guess they figured they were saving their time and yours.”

  “Guess so. What do you wanna do now?”

  Banning gave Taylor the email address of the believed abductor, hoping they could get a lead on him.

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know,” Taylor said.

  Banning hung up the phone and turned to Fleming, who sat across from him. “You’ve given me a few more leads. I’ll try them and see what happens.”

  Fleming got out a business card and scrawled a number on the back. “This is my cell. Call me when you learn something.”

  As Fleming went out the door, Banning had an idea that his new client was going to do some checking of his own.

  * * *

  Banning went to the cab company office and showed his license. “I need some information about a fare one of your drivers picked up yesterday about noontime in front of Parkville High. Is he in house now or on the road?”

  The dispatcher, built like a human snowman, looked at Banning over the racing form he was studying. He was smoking a stogie which he chewed on a moment, narrowed eyes displaying the debate in his leisurely brain over whether to cooperate. The decision was signified by a “what the hell” shrug, and he pulled up a log on his computer. Finding the pickup, he cross-referenced the driver to a status spreadsheet.

  Banning was glad the man was cooperating, but wished he’d take a little less time at it.

  “He’s headed back here now,” the dispatcher finally said. “Unless he gets another fare, his shift is up in about 10.”

  Banning correctly translated that as ten minutes, thanked the man (who responded by returning immediately to his racing form), and found an ancient stiff back chair to sit and wait.

  Two or three drivers came back in the next ten or fifteen minutes, but the dispatcher didn’t point any of them out or make any signal to Banning as to which one it was. His full attention focused on his racing form. Banning hoped the man lost his kids’ college money on the horses, regretted the thought, and finally decided there weren’t any Rhoades Scholars coming from this guy’s gene pool anyway.

  The drivers were hanging around, shooting the bull, so he went over to them. One was Latino, the second of some Middle Eastern extraction, and the third apparently of the hereditary anthology considered American. Fleming had sent a picture of Grace to Banning’s phone, which he now showed to the men. “Any of you seen this girl?”

  There was a flicker of recognition on the Latino’s face, but the “American” said, “No, buddy, we ain’t never seen her.” He took each of his comrades by the shoulder and said, “C’mon. Let’s go to Harry’s.”

  Banning had passed a bar just down the block, and figured the proprietor was Harry. “Tell you what,” he said, getting a few bills out of his wallet, “if one of you recognizes her, I’ll buy the first round.” He peeled off a twenty. “If you tell me more, I’ll buy another.” He peeled off a second twenty. “If you tell me all you know...” They were expecting a third round of beers, and their tongues were already preparing their lips for the event. “If you tell me all you know, I’ll give you each cab fare, ‘cause by then none of you will be fit to drive yourselves home.”

  The men laughed, the Latino clapping Banning on the back as an initiation into their brotherhood. The four went to the bar and Banning ordered a round of beers, including a Sam Adams for himself. When they had sucked down half of the contents of the
ir mugs, the Latino asked to look at the picture again. Banning obliged, displaying the image on his Phone again.

  “I think I see her,” he said. “In front of school? Yesterday?”

  “That would be right,” Banning said. “Where did you take her?

  As though they were one, the three drivers downed the rest of their beers. They sat silently for a moment. The Latino said, “You know, a beer makes a man think.” He grinned. “But two beers makes him think better.”

  Banning grinned too, but was expecting it. He ordered a second round for his new friends, though he just continued to nurse his first. He waited as they drained their second beers. No one seemed to be in a hurry, though Banning was getting anxious. If this was a lure and abduction, time was a limited commodity.

  The Latino finally rubbed his unshaven chin (all three could use some time with a razor) as though Googling his brain, and finally said: “I took her to hotel. Yes, hotel downtown.”

  Ever since Baltimore had begun promoting itself as a convention city, hotels of all kinds had sprung up throughout the downtown area. “Do you remember which one?”

  He rubbed his grizzled chin even harder, searching for an answer that was apparently hidden in his whiskers. He finally gave a name. Banning recognized it as one of the older hotels.

  Banning pulled off some more bills, and his three friends ogled them thirstily. But he knew better to entrust them to the cabbies. He signaled to the bartender and passed them to him.

  “Barkeep, I’d like to see my three friends here get home safely to their families. Could you call them a cab?”

  The bartender took the proffered bills. “Sure thing.”

  Banning handed him a card. “And if it’s any more than that, just hand this to the driver and have him call that number for the balance.”

  The bartender grinned. Banning knew that the driver might indeed call him for more money, whether the tab was more or not; but he might get further information from him, as well. After all, he might need to find out where the three cabbies lived, to testify.

  As Banning left, he heard the “American” call for one more round. Well, at least they were paying for this one on their own.