The Perfect Prey

Nine

John Stallings, like any seasoned cop, knew his strengths and weaknesses. He could read people and interview well. Some would say there was a large element of fear that made people talk to him, but he got results. He also was willing to work ungodly hours to find a missing kid or solve a homicide. His greatest weakness was not using all the available sources of information from computer databases and intelligence files. Patty understood the physics of such work and seemed to like it, so he let her run with it.

An hour after Yvonne Zuni had ordered them to find the missing Allison Marsh, Patty had her metal notecase crammed with printouts, photographs, and information on the case. They were about to head over to Atlantic Beach to catch the travel mates of the missing girl. Allison Marsh’s mother had reached the girls and had started the chain of panic even though Allie hadn’t been missing long.

As he pulled onto Edgewood Avenue, Patty said, “Where are you going?”

“Just a quick run by Jason Ferrell’s apartment. See if anyone is around.”

Patty started to sift through her notes.

Stallings smiled and said, “Worried Yvonne the Terrible is gonna catch us veering off our assignment? Should we call her when we want to stop and get lunch?”

“It’s not like you to ignore a missing girl, or to mock a boss. You usually follow orders.”

“I am following orders and doing a little extra. Just because Jason Ferrell is a little older doesn’t mean his mother isn’t any less worried. I promise we’ll be talking to Allison Marsh’s friends within an hour.”

As Stallings pulled his Impala to the curb right in front of the main door to the apartment complex, two men walked out and froze at the entrance.

Stallings said to Patty, “Do those two look like the guys the manager described to you?”

“Exactly how he described them.”

Stallings knew to get out quickly. Something about these two made him lift his shirt to show his gun and badge on his hip. These weren’t city people; they’d come from the farther reaches of the south. Maybe South Georgia or the center of North Florida.

The taller of the two men, in jeans, a dirty white T-shirt, and John Deere hat, said, “Oh shit, five-O.” He turned and started to walk quickly down the sidewalk with his pudgy, bald friend behind him.

“Hang on, fellas,” called out Stallings.

The men slowed.

Patty stepped out, but used the car as cover. She saw the pair as a threat too.

Stallings kept his voice loud and firm. “Turn around and walk back this way.”

The big man turned. “Why?”

“You said it before. Because we’re cops and we want to talk to you.”

“I don’t think we have to consent to that demand.”

Stallings turned to Patty. “Fucking Law and Order. “ Then he called out, “You do have to consent.”

“Why?”

“Because if you make me come over to you boys, I’ll kick your asses.”

The men exchanged glances and then, without warning, started to run hard down the sidewalk.

The move surprised Stallings so much that he hesitated between jumping in his car or chasing them on foot. He and Patty slipped back into the unmarked police car and pulled from the curb in time to see a blue Ford F-150 rumble over a chain-link fence at the far end of the apartment’s side parking lot. They pulled onto the next block as Stallings hit the gas and cut through the lot. He pulled up short of following the raised truck over the crushed fence. The low clearance of his Impala would never make it over the fence.

As the car squealed to a stop at the edge of the parking lot, Stallings slammed the steering wheel. “Shit.” He could see the truck speeding away. He had no reason to jump on the radio and call out a pursuit. He just wanted to talk to the men.

He looked over at Patty. “What are you grinning about?”

“I got the tag.”

Less than thirty minutes after the rednecks had given them the slip, Patty Levine and John Stallings had crossed the wasteland between J-Ville and the beach towns. Patty liked to see how well her tough, street-smart partner could talk to young people. In his years assigned to missing persons, he had developed a reputation for being able to deal with Jacksonville’s large homeless population. One of the reasons, Patty could clearly tell, was because he treated everyone with respect until they didn’t deserve respect. He also had a good rapport with younger people.

Now he sat on a couch next to Susan Meyers in the lobby of a little family-run motel off the ocean. The girl was worried about her missing friend and scared, but Stallings had a way of reassuring people without being condescending or fake.

He had established that none of the girls traveling with Allison Marsh, whom everyone called Allie, had seen whom she left with the night before. They had all gone to a popular dance club called the Wildside, which was known as being easy on underage drinkers, especially pretty girls. It was so easy that the bar also attracted an unsavory older male clientele as well.

Susan was round and dowdy in the bright lights of the motel. She’d been crying and now was down to just a sniffle.

“The way Allie’s mom yelled at me for allowing her to leave without us just got to me. She’s very strong.”

Stallings said, “It’s not your fault-we just need to find her. Now tell me anything else I might’ve forgotten to ask you. You’re sure you didn’t see her with a specific guy?”

Susan shook her head and blew her nose into a wadded-up Kleenex. “She danced with a bunch of guys. I think she wanted to hook up with one, but I don’t know who he was.” She blew her nose again. “Her mom started calling about one in the morning and said she couldn’t get ahold of Allie. When I told her I was already at the motel she freaked. I guess that’s when she called you guys.”

“Did Allie meet anyone this week she talked about?”

Susan hesitated, and Patty saw that she was hiding something. Patty cut in. “C’mon, you’re not in trouble. Did Allie meet someone?”

“Well, she did meet a guy who gave her this little pill.”

“What kind of pill?”

“A speckled one. She kept saying he was a nice guy even if he was a little older than us. I never saw him.”

“Did she take the pill?”

Susan waited, looked at both detectives, and said, “We both did. We split it.”

“What happened?”

“It made me sort of breezy. I just coasted through the afternoon.” She snapped her fingers. “And thirsty too.”

At the same time both Stallings and Patty said, “Ecstasy.”