Page 5 of Identify
“He’s so sweet.” She sighs. “Tell him I said hi, back.”
“I’ll do that. Hey, we need your help on something.”
“Whatcha got?”
“Can we run facial recognition in multiple databases at the same time?”
“Sure, it’ll take longer, but I can do it.”
“Great, can you add this to my earlier request and target NCIC, CODIS, and NDIS? Let me know when you get anything back?”
“Will do.”
I slap my hand down on her desk. “You’re the best, Jenny. I owe you one.” I point back at her as I walk back to the elevators.
“You owe me like twenty,” she calls after me.
“I’m good for it!” I yell back as the elevator doors close.
Mack and I head out to talk to the victim, the woman who made the report which started the investigation. He drives while I recap a synopsis from the file. Like with the coffee, in theory we trade off driving, but really Mack does most of it. Unlike with the coffee, it’s not because he’s a better driver, it’s because I don’t mind being a passenger.
“Paula Nelson, age twenty-three, works as a hair stylist, not the first time she’d used the app, but it was her first date with this guy. According to her, he was normal, they had a good time, nothing too out of the ordinary. One minute she’s in his car to go from the bar to dinner, and the next minute she’s waking up in a strange room with a bunch of tied up, drugged up girls.”
“So, guy number one does the date pick up and the drugged drop off—he must have roofied her or something similar. And probably someone else maintains the girls and the house.” He looks at me when he talks then back at the road again.
“That would be my guess. Then once at the house, the girls get hit with something more dependency friendly, maybe a little H? Get ‘em high out of their minds, they won’t care much about what’s going on.”
“Where was she found?”
“By her own account, she’d been walking for hours, but who knows how the aftereffects of what he gave her the first time affected her memory or ability to gauge time. They picked her up over by where route five and sixty-seventh avenue intersect. Not a lot out there.” I shrug. “Says she thinks it was a house she ran from and not a commercial building.”
“Residential brothel?” Murphy asks.
“Probably.”
We’re silent the rest of the trip until pulling onto the street where Paula Nelson lives. An upper middle-class neighborhood with larger tract homes, lush green lawns filled with holiday decor, towering oak trees, and well-maintained roads and sidewalks.
“It should be that bluish house here on the right.” I point out the house to Mack and he parks on the street in front of a “Caution: Reindeer Crossing” sign. Only a couple of cars on the street, not surprising with just a few days to go before Christmas.
We head up the front walk between rows of fake candy canes lining either side. An older woman with graying hair opens the door before we knock. She’s dressed in a robe and slippers despite the eleven o’clock hour. Not that I’m judging, sleeping until eleven in the morning sounds great, if I could do it. My body won’t let me go past six in the morning at the latest.
“You looking for Paula?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am.” I pull out my badge to show her. “I’m Agent Roberts and this is my partner, Agent Murphy. We’re following up on a report that Miss Nelson made recently and we're hoping to have a quick word with her. Might that be possible?”
“Call her Paula, that’s her name, she hates the Miss and Ms. stuff. She’s in the shower. But you all can come in and wait, I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
We follow her into the house, and she offers us a seat in the living room while she goes to get the coffee. The house is spacious with a lot of natural lighting. A huge Christmas tree sits in the corner with a pile of wrapped presents beneath it. The smell of cinnamon pinecones fills the air.
“Nice place,” I tell Murphy.
He nods in agreement.
The woman returns, balancing three mugs of coffee between her two hands. Mack stands to help, taking two from her. She makes a point of setting out coasters on the coffee table between us, so I use mine.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are you acquainted with Paula, ma’am? Mrs....?” I pause, waiting for her to tell me her last name.
“Nelson. I’m Mrs. Nelson. Paula is my daughter. She came to stay with me after all this transpired.”
