Thread of Betrayal (9 page)

TWENTY

I wanted a shower.

We’d finally navigated our way out of the snarled traffic and we were both tired, hungry and in need of some rest after the long haul from the motel in Utah. With nothing to do but wait, neither of us felt like driving around randomly. Both of us were worried that it would just lead to more frustration and anxiety on our part, so we found a hotel near the airport and checked in, unsure of how long we’d be there.

I jumped into the shower first, Lauren wanting to check her work email and see if there was anything that needed a response. The hot water stung my shoulders and I tucked my chin into my chest, letting it pelt my neck. My muscles were stiff and sore from having sat in the car for so long, not to mention the tension I knew I was carrying in my entire body. I shut my eyes and stood there for awhile, rolling my shoulders, trying to let some of that tension wash out of me. After twenty minutes of standing there comatose, I grabbed the bar of soap and the shampoo, cleaned myself up and turned off the water.

The warm steam in the small bathroom felt good on my skin and exhaustion settled into me. It felt as if I hadn’t slept in days and my body was begging for a rest. I toweled off, pulled on my boxers and jeans and walked out into the room, still rubbing the towel through my hair.

Lauren was stretched out on the bed, staring at her phone. “Thought you fell asleep in there.”

“Almost.”

“I’m tired, too.”

I pointed at the phone. “Anything?”

She sat up. “Nope.”

I nodded, expecting that answer. “Okay. Bathroom’s all yours.”

She looked at me for a moment. “What are you gonna do?”

“Turn the TV on,” I said. “Lay down on that bed.”

She stood from the bed, laid a hand on my chest and kissed my cheek. “Okay. I won’t be long.”

It was an odd gesture, the kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t like her. Not that she’d ever been unaffectionate, but small things like that weren’t her. Or maybe I’d just forgotten them, it had been so long. She was strong and independent and those were two things I’d always loved about her. She could be defiant, stubborn, even more so than me at times. We’d always had a good balance in our relationship, but she’d never been dependent. And maybe that wasn’t what the kiss was, but it caught me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

I grabbed the remote, moved my phone to the nightstand right by my head and punched a button to turn on the TV. I flopped back on to the bed, my wet head sinking into the large, overstuffed pillows.

But I couldn’t sleep. As I flipped through the channels, I couldn’t stop thinking about Elizabeth and where she was. It was a helpless feeling to know we were so close but had no idea where to look. I couldn’t shut off my thoughts.

I flipped through the channels for a few more minutes before the bathroom door opened. Lauren came out, a towel wrapped around her, her hair dripping wet. “Can I have your towel? I couldn’t find another one.”

I held it out to her and she came over to the bed. She tucked in the towel around her body, holding it in place and she took my towel. She gathered up her long, wet locks and rubbed them vigorously, absorbing the excess water. Goose pimples formed on her arms and bare thighs.

She pulled the towel from her hair and hugged it to her chest. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” I said.

“Can I lay with you?” she asked.

I scooted over, making room for her. She laid down, curling up to me much like she had when we’d stopped in Utah.

Her hand slid onto my bare chest. “Joe.”

I looked at her.

“I don’t want to sleep alone again,” she said.

“Okay.”

“And, I don’t feel like sleeping,” she said.

My pulse quickened.

She leaned forward and kissed me, softly at first, then with more urgency. I turned into her and pulled her closer, kissing her back. She tugged on her towel, letting it fall away, her warm skin pressing up against mine. Her lips moved to my neck and my hands found her back. She arched into me and looked at me, her eyes searching.

“I just want to feel good for awhile,” she whispered. “Okay?”

I didn’t say anything, just plunged my hands into her wet hair and pulled her tight against me.

I knew exactly what she needed.

It was what I needed, too.

TWENTY-ONE

My phone was ringing and I couldn’t reach it.

My eyes were sealed shut and I’d forced them open when I heard the ring. The light in the room was dim and Lauren’s naked body was entwined with mine, her hair a tangled mess on my chest. I reached out with my left arm for the phone but couldn’t reach it. I shifted underneath and she stirred.

“The phone,” I said. “It’s ringing.”

She sat up and I slid myself to the side and snatched it off the nightstand. “Hello?”

“Mr. Tyler, it’s John Anchor. Is this a good time?”

“Yeah absolutely,” I said, then mouthed “Anchor” to Lauren, as she pulled the blankets over herself.

“Have you by any chance gotten the new number that your daughter is using?” he asked.

“No. Not yet.”

“Alright,” he said. “Not a problem. I’ve got a few things for you to look at. Where could I meet you?”

“Meet me?”

“Yes, sir, if that’s alright.”

“Here in L.A.?” I asked.

Lauren looked at me, confused.

“Yes,” he said. “Mr. Codaselli insisted that I use his plane to come and assist you personally. He thought I might be of greater use to you in person than at a distance. I’m walking through LAX right now.”

“Okay,” I said and told him where we were staying. “We can meet you down in the lobby.”

“I should be there in about twenty minutes,” he said and hung up.

I looked at Lauren. “Anchor is here.”

“At the hotel?” she said, her eyes wide.

“He’ll be here in twenty minutes,” I said. “He said he has some things to show us.”

“He just got on a plane and flew here?”

“That’s what he said.” I didn’t mention the private plane.

“Wow,” she said. “I guess his boss is really grateful.”

“I guess.”

“And I guess we should put some clothes on.”

“Probably.”

We scrambled for a few minutes, getting dressed and making ourselves look presentable. We’d only slept for a couple of hours but we both looked disheveled and disoriented. Lauren took another few minutes to brush out her hair and I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, still shocked that Anchor was in Los Angeles. When she was ready, we took the elevator downstairs and had just sat down on a small sofa in the lobby when Anchor strode through the entrance.

His short blond hair was combed neatly above the same black-framed glasses he always wore. His dark navy suit looked expensive and perfectly tailored. Light blue dress shirt beneath it with a tie that was close in color to the suit. The shiny black shoes that clicked against the marble floor as he walked looked more expensive than the suit.

He smiled as I stood. “Mr. Tyler. Wish the circumstances were better, but it’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” I said, as we shook hands. I motioned at Lauren as she stood next to me. “This is Elizabeth’s mother, Lauren Tyler.”

“My pleasure,” Anchor said as they shook hands. He waited for us to sit before he took a seat in the arm chair across from us. “Again, I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. Have you been here long?”

I shook my head. “We pulled in this afternoon.”

“You drove from Minneapolis?”

“From Denver,” I said. “We flew to Denver from Minneapolis. Then we had an issue in Denver so we drove.”

“You should’ve called me,” he said grimly. “I would’ve been happy to assist in getting you a flight.”

I wondered if he could’ve convinced TSA to let me fly. My gut said no, but I still had to wonder.

“It’s okay,” I said.

He reached inside his suit and extracted several papers, folded neatly and crisply. “I was able to do a little work and I have a few things that might help us.” He glanced at me. “Mr. Codaselli has instructed me to see this through until you feel you no longer need me. Hence, the ‘us’.”

“Alright,” I said. “Thank you.”

He nodded and unfolded the first sheet. “The cell number you gave me. I was able to track it. It was turned on at the airport, apparently, when she landed. There was a call made from it, but given the time difference from when she landed and when it was probably taken from her, I don’t believe it was her that used it.” He peered at me over his glasses. “My associate is currently in the process of recovering the phone and your daughter’s other belongings.”

“You located the phone?” Lauren asked.

“We were able to triangulate the location and, yes, I believe we’ve located it.”

“Where?” Lauren asked, incredulous.

Anchor smiled at her. “Nearby. We should have confirmation soon.”

I wanted to ask questions, but I no longer doubted the decision to call him. He was better than any cop I could’ve called.

Anchor unfolded the other two sheets and laid them out on the table in front of us. “I was also able to obtain these surveillance photos from the airport. I wanted to confirm her presence here in Los Angeles in order to make sure we didn’t need to move our search to another location.” He paused. “I’m fairly certain this is her, but if you’d take a look and confirm, then we’ll know for sure.”

I picked up both sheets from the table and handed one to Lauren. There were six square black and white photos on each sheet. Still shots from security cameras with time and date stamps. On my sheet, I could see Elizabeth exiting the jetway, entering the restroom, leaving the restroom, asleep on a chair, on a pay phone and walking through the concourse. Each photo was taken from an above angle, but I could see that she was wearing leggings, short winter boots, a long sweater and that her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had Lauren’s hair. The definition in the photos wasn’t good enough to see the expression on her face, but there was no doubt that it was her.

And the one major difference in the six photos I was looking at was that she had a backpack and a purse getting off the plane and entering the restroom, but leaving the restroom, she only had the backpack.

I took a deep breath.

It was her.

She was in Los Angeles.

I handed my sheet to Lauren and she handed me hers.

“How did you get these?” Lauren asked.

“Mr. Codaselli has many different contacts in many different industries,” he said, smiling at her. “Those contacts were more than happy to assist.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head and stared at the sheet I’d traded her.

I looked at mine. Another series of six still shots from the security cameras within the airport. Elizabeth walking through the luggage area. Sitting in a food court. Two more of her walking through the terminal. Another down in the luggage area. And then one of her at the curb outside the airport.

“Have you done anything with these?” I asked.

Anchor shook his head and adjusted his glasses. “Not yet. As I said, I wanted to confirm with you before proceeding in any way.”

I tapped the paper. “This one. Her at the curb.”

I showed it to him.

“Yes,” he said. “She’s outside. Looks like Terminal C. I’m sure we can figure out exactly which camera that was shot from.”

“Not what I’m talking about,” I said. “Look at the cab pulling into the frame. Her hand is up. It’s about to stop in front of her.”

He leaned in tighter and Lauren leaned over, too.

“If we could get some better resolution on this, we can pull the number off the taxi,” I said.

Anchor nodded and stood. “Give me a moment. Excuse me.” He pulled out his phone, put it to his ear and walked away from us.

“That guy scares the shit out of me,” Lauren said quietly.

“That guy is helping us,” I said. “You don’t always get to choose who you work with. You take what you get.”

“Do you know how hard it is to get this stuff?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Like, you need court orders and acts of God to get these. And even then, Homeland Security screens them and doesn’t let you walk away with them.”

I shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Would you rather not have the photos?”

“Of course not,” she said, frowning at me. “But if they can pull this stuff this fast and do it off the grid, I can’t imagine what else they’re capable of.”

“Then don’t imagine,” I said. “Just focus on the pictures and on Elizabeth. And be glad he’s on our side.”

Anchor walked back to us, his phone still in his hand. “We should have it within five minutes. The enlarged and improved photo is being forwarded to my phone.”

“Good,” I said. “We should be able to find out exactly which taxi took her and where they went. They have to record their rides from the airport.”

Anchor nodded in agreement, then looked at his phone. He studied it for a moment. Then he looked at us. “My associate is outside. With your daughter’s belongings. And the person who took them.” He smiled at each of us. “Care to walk outside with me?”