As You Look Read online

  “Mijo, did you see something?” Alicia asked her son.

  “No. But when I was looking for my shoes, I seen a van across the street.”

  I brightened. Finally, a lead. “Now think hard, Gabriel, where exactly was the van and what can you remember about it?”

  “All I seen was that it was white.”

  “All I saw,” his mother corrected.

  “Where was it?” I asked.

  “In the alley. Parked behind the big trash bin.”

  “Facing the street or facing away?” Gabriel’s eyes turned toward the ceiling, thinking before he spoke.

  “I seen…” He glanced at his mother and corrected himself. “I saw the back of it, so I guess facing away?” It was a question more than a statement, but that was good enough for me.

  “Anything else about the van that you remember?”

  “I think it had orange writing on it?” Again with the question.

  “Like a rental van?” I asked.

  Gabriel shrugged.

  It was all he could remember. Most adults don’t remember make and model, let alone a six-year-old.

  “That’s really good, Gabriel,” I said. “This might help. Can you make sure you tell the detective who will come to ask you more questions?” He looked at his mom.

  “We’ll do that,” she answered for both.

  “What time did you go to school?” I turned to his mom for the answer, but Gabriel spoke up.

  “Five to eight.”

  His mother looked up proudly. “We’ve been learning to tell time.”

  “Was the van still there when you walked to school?” I asked. His mother held him tighter. He winced again and shook his head.

  “But I found Chulo in front of the church.” He smiled and held up the puppy.

  “This morning?” I asked.

  “On the way to school,” his mother said. “My daughter already named him, so I guess we’ll have to keep him.”

  Shit. Pedophiles sometimes use puppies to lure children.

  “Did you see Chulo near the van this morning?” I asked Gabriel. He shook his head.

  “You don’t think…” Mrs. Mendoza stopped herself from voicing what we were both thinking. Her eyes widened when I cocked an eyebrow and nodded, hoping I was wrong.

  “Okay, I’m going to call the detective to come over and speak with you, okay?” Gabriel and his mother looked at each other as I dialed Lan’s number. It always helps to provide information if you want information. Lan answered in hushed tones and said she’d be right over. I thanked Gabriel and his mother, and went next door before risking a run-in with Lieutenant Peak.

  Mrs. Lopez was much younger than I’d expected. Midthirties at most. I complimented her on her front yard when she answered the door.

  “Oh, that’s my mother-in-law’s doing,” she said with a smile. But her smile faded when she glanced at the police cars and news crews over my shoulder. “I hope they find that little boy soon.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” I said. “I’m Joey’s nina.” She gave me the same look her neighbor had and gestured for me to enter. The living room was more Mexican-grandmother-meets-Ikea, with doilies everywhere, a Virgen de Guadalupe print over the fireplace, and knickknacks filling every shelf of a modular entertainment hutch, a thirty-five-inch TV in the center. We sat on the clear-vinyl-wrapped couch.

  “Is your mother-in-law home?” I asked.

  “She went to Mexico to get her new dentures, but she comes back tomorrow, so I need to remember to water or she’ll kill me.” She smiled again, but a look of concern came over her face when she remembered why I was there. She hadn’t seen or heard anything, but I asked if she or her mother-in-law were responsible for keeping the street graffiti-free.

  “Not me.” She shook her head. “My mother-in-law. I think the taggers are afraid of her,” she said and huffed. “She doesn’t let ’em get away with calling themselves ‘graffiti artists.’” She made air quotes with her fingers. “Knows most of them from when they were little esquincles and knows all their tags. If she saw one of them anywhere near here she’d go directly to them and make them clean it off. She once caught a guy stealing a battery from our neighbor’s car. The guy ran away, but his friend came to apologize and reinstall the battery the next morning. She made him go get the guy who had taken it to reinstall it.” She shook her head in wonder at the memory. So did I.

  “Your mother-in-law sounds like my mom.” The memory tugged at my heart. “Let me give you my card. I’d be interested in speaking with her if we don’t find Joey by the time she gets back. And I’d like to speak with some of the taggers she’s keeping at bay. They might’ve seen something. A long shot, I know.” I thanked the younger Mrs. Lopez and walked back across the street. As I did, I saw the investigative trio in the Mendoza living room. Fortunately, Lieutenant Peak had his back to me and didn’t see me walk over to the school.

  I passed the alley with no queasiness this time, and followed what should have been Joey’s steps across the front of the church and into the schoolyard.

  The hallways of Saint Martin smelled like the ones I remembered at Santa Isabel—a faint odor of baloney and a stronger smell of pine-scented floor cleaner. In the principal’s office, I looked out the window and saw the adults on the playground keeping a close eye on the few kids left in the after-school program. But I didn’t learn anything new. Joey had been marked absent and hadn’t been seen at school all day. Not good. I needed to speak with Luis and Carmen again and tell them about the white van.

  In the corridor, a janitor spread more floor cleaner with a mop. The strong smell triggered a memory, like smells sometimes do.

  Six-year-old Jesse, and I, had just arrived at Uncle Bobby’s apartment building on St. Louis Street, a couple of blocks from school. It always smelled of the same pine cleaner. But when we knocked on his door, we heard shouting. It sounded like Bobby, and it sounded like he was in trouble. Jesse and I looked at each other and tried to open the door, then banged on it. The shouting stopped at the sound of our banging, and then the door flew open. Bobby’s new girlfriend, Sandra, stormed out with a tall man I didn’t recognize. They knocked me to the floor and the man picked up my brother by one arm like a rag doll and threw him out of the way. They ran past us and out of the building. It happened so fast. Then, everything moved as if in slow motion. I rolled over to get my bearings and saw Jesse sitting against the wall opposite the door, wide-eyed and still. We were both in shock, unable to cry. That came later. Still speechless, we glanced at each other as we both got up and faced the open door. We held hands and entered the apartment quietly, taking tentative steps.

  “I found him. I found Sandra’s brother, but I couldn’t find the money,” Bobby sputtered from where he lay in a fetal position on the floor amid debris from an overturned table—unlit candles, cards, beads, and various colored stones. He held his stomach with one hand and his jaw with the other. His collar was torn away from his shirt, and a red welt was growing darker on the left side of his face. I turned to Jesse when he began to whimper and held him tightly, holding back my own tears. This was no time to cry.

  “We need to call 911, Bobby,” I said as I continued to scan the mess.

  I still remembered what the responding officer had told me when she and her partner appeared at Bobby’s door. After Officer Leal had established that Bobby was our uncle and that Mom would be there soon, she asked if we were ready for some questions. Jesse and I nodded.

  “Now, the way this works,” she explained, “is that I get as many facts as I can about what happened. Do you know what facts are?”

  When we stared at her blankly, she said, “Facts are only those things you see or hear. They can be things you smell, or taste, or can feel by touch, but not things you just think may have happened. Okay?”

  “Like the five senses?” I asked. We had studied them in science class the week before.

  “Exactly!” Officer Leal beamed. “We’ll combine what you tell me with what your uncle Bobby tells Officer Jackson, then we’ll see what we can do. Okay?”

  I nodded again and repeated what I had heard and what I had seen as best I could. She smiled when I told her that I had not smelled or tasted anything, but that it did hurt when I got knocked over. Jesse said that it hurt him more when he was thrown against the wall. I overheard Officer Jackson ask Bobby, “Now, did you see that with your own eyes, or was that a vision too?” He wasn’t making fun of him, but it sounded like he didn’t believe him. Officer Leal asked me for a detailed description of Sandra and the man with her, and I did the best I could. She thanked us and asked if we wanted a glass of water while we waited for them to ask Bobby more questions. We both declined and remained seated on the couch as instructed.

  When Mom arrived, Jesse and I ran to her as she dropped to one knee to hug us both.

  “What happened?” she asked with a worried frown. Jesse and I both started talking at once, but Mom looked up to Officer Leal, who had come over to us. She explained that there had been an assault and battery and that the assailants had taken all of Bobby’s cash.

  “Your junior detectives here gave us a good description of the assailants,” Officer Leal said, smiling down at us. I felt heat rise from my neck to my face and blushed with pride. I felt confident Officer Leal was more likely to find Sandra and the man than Bobby was with his colored stones and crystal ball. Mom sat with us while the police finished. When they left, she could barely contain her anger.

  “I can’t believe you would let this happen, Roberto!” she said in Spanish through clenched teeth. I’d never seen her so angry. “I told you this was not something to toy with!” I don’t remember everything else she said because Jesse and I had covered our ears. We knew we weren’t supposed to say some of the words Mom was saying. She wouldn’t let Bobby get in a word edgewise. And that was the last time he babysat. He took to drinking more and more after that, until the night he stumbled in front of a bus. Mom hadn’t forgiven him, but she was pretty torn up when he died, kept saying the “brujería,” or witchcraft, had gotten to him and that we were not to follow his example.

  I shook off the memory when I got back to my car. Another reason to stay away from the juju. I needed to get back to Carmen with a clear head, but first I wanted to head back to my place to get my gun. A kidnapper is someone you should take seriously. Back on the road, I caught sight of a beautiful sunset in my rearview mirror, courtesy of the Griffith Park fire. The chamber-of-commerce sky didn’t match my mood. Three boys were missing in the desert county to the east. My stomach turned at the thought of Joey being a fourth victim. But then I tried to remember any cases involving a pedophile renting a car. I couldn’t think of any. Maybe it wasn’t the same guy. Maybe it wasn’t a pedophile. But was I just being hopeful?

  Chapter Seven

  Friday, 7:20 p.m.

  When I got home, I realized I’d forgotten to call Sydney again, but then I saw her car in the garage as I pulled in. Once inside, I recognized the music at the end of Sydney’s yoga video—the one Joey sometimes tried to keep up with. I pushed the thought aside and put Jesse’s uneaten tacos on the kitchen counter, wondering how long the onion smell would linger in my car.

  Then I paused to admire Sydney sitting in the lotus position, in shorts and a sports bra. A slight sheen of perspiration covered her nearly flawless skin, the jagged scar on her right biceps nearly matching the one on my left arm. Healthy curves were the envy of several of our friends. Nothing boney about her. But the smile that filled her whole face was what I loved most. It telegraphed a serene self-confidence and a playfulness at the same time.

  She looked up, standing, and gave me that smile now.

  “Welcome home, babe.”

  Carmen had known I was in love with Sydney even before I did. She’d said that Sydney’s smile was the only thing she ever saw that could turn me into mush. Not even holding baby Joey in my arms did that to me.

  I walked to her with a sad smile, hoping I’d be able to hold him again.

  Carmen had introduced us when I was still in the LAPD and Sydney was a resident at County General. They were sometimes Taekwondo sparring partners, both black belts, but they had first met through Sydney’s mom who worked with one of Carmen’s labor union clients. Sydney still kept long hours, but at least her schedule as an attending was more normal now than back when she was a resident and constantly sleep-deprived. That time, accompanied by my trials with the LAPD, would have tested anyone’s relationship, but I thought it strengthened ours.

  I wrapped my arms around her and held on for an extra beat. I needed her calming energy.

  “What’s wrong?” She cupped my face with her hands and kissed me softly.

  “Oh, love. I’m so glad you’re home. I thought you’d still be at the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry. You called earlier, didn’t you? I just remembered. I was tied up, but I got done with the new residents early. What’s wrong?” she asked again.

  “Joey’s missing.” My throat caught.

  “What?” Her wide-eyed concern now matched my own.

  “He never showed at school today after Luis dropped him off. I came back for my gun.” I motioned us upstairs. “But I need to get back to Carmen’s before it gets too late.” My throat caught again. I could tell Sydney anything without having to do the “level-headed cop” bit, but we didn’t have time to be emo, as the kids would say. She followed me to the bedroom.

  “I’ll come with you and you can fill me in on the way.”

  “Okay.” I was so grateful. I needed to talk over what I’d learned so far and Sydney was my best, and most reliable, sounding board. She never sugarcoated her feedback. “I can get you a donut with that,” she liked to say whenever I bucked at her “truth-telling.” She hurried into the shower while I went to the safe in the bedroom closet. I took off my white shirt and put on my shoulder holster over a white tank. I needed to get a less bulky, magnetic hip holster—maybe after my next case paid. I pulled out my nine-millimeter Glock, checked the magazine, and holstered it. I made a mental list of the items I knew I had in my car—flashlight, lockpicks, handcuffs—the usual upgrades to a well-stocked earthquake kit. “You forgot the kitchen sink,” Sydney would say whenever we loaded up the Subaru for a road trip. And thinking of that, I pulled out a hunter’s knife in its ankle holster and strapped it to my right calf. Sydney walked in from a quick rinse as I pulled my jeans leg over the knife.

  “I hope I never have to fix anyone you use those things on.”

  “Just hope you never have to fix me up.” I kissed her on the cheek, and she hurried to dress.

  We were out the door and on our way to Carmen’s in no time. Avoiding rush-hour freeways, I filled in Sydney on the day’s developments as I drove. Near Dodger Stadium, when I got to the part about my visit to the alley, I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share what I’d felt by the dumpster.

  “You’re not telling me something,” she observed. I tightened my lips and kept my eyes on the road, feeling her eyes on me before I responded.

  “How do you do that?” I said, finally glancing at her.

  “Just tell me. What happened in the alley?” I loved that she knew me so well, but at that moment it annoyed me too.

  I turned back to the road. “I just had a bit of vertigo when I got near the dumpster in the alley. That’s all.”

  “Vertigo? Like in your dream?”

  I sighed and tried not to roll my eyes. “I knew you’d go there. That’s why I didn’t want to mention it.”

  “Look, don’t you want to use everything at your disposal to find Joey?” She placed her hand on my leg as I turned west onto Sunset Boulevard. “Please don’t ignore this.”

  “That’s just it, Syd.” I couldn’t help raising my voice. “How many times do I have to say it? It is not going to happen again. Not this time. Not ever.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel, skin taut over white knuckles.

  In my peripheral vision I caught her pursing her lips, thinking. She finally spoke at a stoplight.

  “Okay. I know this is all stressful and you need to focus, so why don’t you let me think about it?”

  I frowned at her.

  “Are you patronizing me?”

  “No…No! I only meant, you can tell me about the juju stuff and let me think about it while you focus on your work.”

  “I hate it when you’re so reasonable.” I turned my eyes back to the road. “Fine. Yes, it was like the feeling in the dream.”

  “And remind me again, how did the dream end?”

  “Like a movie, fading to black.” My eyes widened. “You think he could have been drugged?”

  “Don’t know, but…” She put out her left palm. “A white cloth? A fainting feeling? Fade to black? Could be, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t see a white cloth in the alley.”

  “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t used.”

  “I don’t know how you do that, but I think I’m glad you do.” I glanced at her again as I started up Carmen’s hill.

  “Do what?”

  “You bring up juju connections like Jesse does, but when you do it, it doesn’t sound so crazy. I didn’t bring up the dream with him because I had to rush over to Carmen’s. He started with those color visions and I had to cut him off. He wasn’t making any sense.” Sydney waited for me to go on. “But I guess I also wanted to avoid another lecture about being in denial.”

  “Maybe you are.” I gave her a side-eye, and she added quickly, “But that doesn’t mean you need to dwell on the dreams either. Look, I’m not a budding empath like Jesse. I swear he reminds me of that corpsman we lost to the IED. ‘Always getting messages,’ he used to say. Jesse can’t help his feelings. All I can use is logic. It doesn’t mean anything without proof, and I know you don’t want to be distracted, but you can always keep the possibility in the back of your mind in case you come up with facts that support the messages, don’t you think? Maybe Jesse and I can put our heads together on it.”