Page 21 of Save Her Life (Sandra Vos #1)

TWENTY

Keeping busy was the only thing helping Sandra retain a fine grasp on her composure. The K-9 unit was arriving as she and Eric were leaving. Brice was sticking around for a bit. He promised to call if anything turned up.

Eric held the door at DiversaBlend for Sandra. It was after eight o’clock by this point, and she couldn’t believe how fast time was going. The sun had fully set, and her heart was breaking as she thought about her daughter not being at home.

Thankfully the coffee shop wasn’t too busy at this hour. Sandra walked straight up to the counter and the smiling young woman standing there. Her brown eyes were bright with intelligence and vitality like Olivia’s. Like her father’s… Speaking of, Nolan deserved to know what was going on. But one thing at a time.

Sandra held up her badge, announced herself, and asked for the manager. The girl’s smile disappeared, and she signaled a passing barista.

“Could you get Charlene? The FBI is here for her.” Sandra wasn’t going to correct things and point out that technically Eric wasn’t with the Bureau.

The barista, who was in her thirties, stopped walking. She took Sandra in, then her gaze traveled to Eric. “Why?” the barista said to the clerk as if they weren’t there.

“I don’t know.” The clerk looked at them.

“There’s a matter we’d like to discuss with Charlene,” Sandra said. It was possible these women could have something to offer if they were here earlier, but it probably wouldn’t go beyond what Avery had already told her. Then again, the creep could have been a regular. Though if so, wouldn’t Avery have mentioned that? Still, there was no such thing as a stupid question. “Actually, before you get Charlene, maybe you ladies could help us.”

“Ah, sure.” The barista came toward the counter, clearly eager to assist.

“Were you two working earlier today from four thirty to five?” she asked.

They both nodded.

“Do you recognize this girl?” Sandra showed them a picture of Olivia. Eric tapped her shoulder, but she dismissed him with a shake of her head.

The young women leaned in, looked at the photo, and quickly pulled back.

“That’s Liv. What about her?” This was from the clerk.

Liv… It was clear she was rather close to her daughter. “You know her?”

“She’s in here a lot around four thirty with a friend.”

“And were they here today?” she asked, though knowing Avery’s answer.

“They were,” the clerk said.

“Did you happen to notice if a man was watching them? Someone paying Olivia a lot of unwanted attention? A guy in a plaid flannel-lined jean jacket?”

The clerk passed a side glance at the barista, then looked at Sandra. “Hey, did something happen to Liv?”

Sandra resisted spinning out at that question. Calm at all times. That was her way through this. How she did things for years with the Bureau. With her professional hat on she was good at isolating her stress and fears, putting them into a tight, dark box, and getting on with things. The daughter of a federal agent… It was outside of herself. In that context, it wasn’t her world being destroyed.

“We’re trying to reach her,” Eric said, stepping in when she didn’t respond.

“Ah, okay.” The clerk ran her bottom lip through her teeth. “But, yeah, I remember a guy wearing that coat.”

The barista nodded. “I remember him too. He had a creepy vibe.”

Sandra would push aside that latter tidbit and focus on moving forward. Nothing good would come from dwelling on creepy vibe . “He a regular by chance?” Her heart fluttered as she waited for the response.

“Nah, I’ve never seen him before,” the clerk said.

“Me neither,” the barista echoed.

This supported the theory he had targeted Olivia, possibly followed her here. “Can you describe him to us? Beyond the coat?”

“In his fifties,” the barista said, “with brown hair, brown eyes.”

The vanilla description wasn’t going to get them anywhere. They needed the video. “What about an accent?” Her posts with the FBI had been in a rather close geographical vicinity but the question was still valid.

“Nothing noticeable,” the barista said.

Then he was likely from around here, but that certainly didn’t narrow things down.

“Ladies.” A woman in her late thirties walked to the front, clearly the one in charge here.

Sandra was ready with her badge. “FBI, ma’am. I just had some questions for them. Are you the manager, Charlene?”

“I am, and I’d be fine with them talking to you if it wasn’t for the line forming behind you.” She raised her eyebrows and pointed.

Sandra turned, and as she did, she made the briefest eye contact with Eric. He gave her a pressed-lip smile. He’d poked her shoulder earlier to alert her to waiting customers. The woman directly behind them rolled her eyes. Facing the manager again, Sandra said, “Could we talk with you in your office?”

“Certainly. Follow me.”

Sandra and Eric were led to an office in the back of the store. The space was compact but organized and tidy. Charlene took a seat behind the desk and leaned forward. “I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see…” She opened her arms to indicate the lack of any other chairs in the room.

“Not a problem,” Sandra said, “but thank you for thinking of us. We need to see some video footage from earlier today.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to need more than that. Our entire corporate mission statement is about protecting people’s rights.”

Sandra had a feeling they might run into this issue. “I’ll get you a warrant.”

“You’ll need to, otherwise this will never fly with corporate.”

Sandra could relate. She had to watch her steps with her job to make sure the FBI didn’t face backlash. “We’ll get you one and come back.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t just handle this for you, but if we don’t stand up for others, who will?”

What about standing up for victims? But Sandra didn’t respond. Instead, she led the way from the room and headed to the barista. She was frothing milk, and the woman who had rolled her eyes at Sandra was standing there waiting along with a few other people. “Excuse me,” Sandra said to get the barista’s attention.

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at Sandra.

“Just one more question. Did you happen to notice if that man left after Olivia?” If she could confirm that it would go toward supporting a warrant request. Right now, they had a suspicion and a probability.

“I saw Liv leave and, come to think of it, I don’t think he was far behind her. She was just out the door when he popped up.”

“Good memory,” Eric put in.

“It helps with the job.” The barista smiled.

“I bet. Did you notice if he followed her down the sidewalk?” she asked.

“I’m going to be here all night,” the customer mumbled.

Sandra turned to her. “FBI, ma’am, but we’re almost done here.”

The woman didn’t say anything, but her cheeks flushed.

The barista was shaking her head at Sandra. “Sorry.”

“Okay, thank you, and here”—Sandra pulled out a ten-dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to the woman—“your next coffee’s on me.”

The woman glanced down at the bill in her palm and smiled. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sandra left the store with Eric.

“Not sure if that statement is going to help with getting a warrant approved,” he told her.

“I have to try.” She pulled her phone and called a judge who she knew and had worked with for years. Nigel Morse had started out as a friend of a friend back when she was attending George Washington University. They’d stayed in touch over the years, and he often extended her leeway. The number she was calling was his personal cell phone. When he answered, she got to the point. Their friendship didn’t trump the man’s desire for succinctness. “It’s Sandra. I need warrant approval for video footage.”

“It’s going on nine o’clock at night. This must be important.”

“Olivia’s missing, and the video I’m after may be our first solid lead.”

There was silence at Nigel’s end. “Olivia’s missing? When did this happen?”

His shock manifested much the same as Elwood’s had. She appreciated that he knew better than to ask if she was sure and how she knew. They had a solid foundation though, and Nigel was also a realist. “This afternoon between four forty-five and five-ten. The early end was the last time she was seen by her best friend at the DiversaBlend on M Street NW. Her phone was found under Key Bridge. Someone’s taken her, Nigel. I know it as a mother and a fed.”

“Run me through exactly what you need.”

“A warrant for the surveillance video from DiversaBlend.” She provided him the street number and added, “Eyewitnesses describe a man about fifty leering at Olivia and leaving just after she did.”

“Did these eyewitnesses see him follow her?”

“Not exactly.”

More silence spread across the line, then, “Sandra, I’m not sure what I should do here.”

“Just say ‘granted.’”

He didn’t even take five seconds to deliberate. “Very well. You have my approval. I’ll get the paperwork over to you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

“And, Sandra, I sure hope Olivia’s okay. She’s an amazing girl.”

Emotion kept Sandra from responding immediately, but eventually she was able to push out, “That she is, and thank you.”

Nigel was gone, and the silence of the empty line thundered in Sandra’s head.

“He’s getting you the warrant?” Eric asked.

“He is, but it might take a minute or two. We can’t just stand still waiting on it.”

Eric nodded. “You got it. We know when she left DiversaBlend, and she would have likely been heading home or…?”

Sandra shook her head. “Based on when she left, she was likely going straight to her violin teacher’s rowhouse. Besides, I had already spoken to Earl, and he said he hadn’t seen her.”

“All right, but I say we still pop by in person. We can have him looking out for her if she does turn up.”

“Okay.”

“Does the violin teacher live far from you?”

“No. Just over on 30th Street NW.”

“That narrows things down some.”

She nodded, but her legs were temporarily unable to move. Fear had her grounded to the sidewalk.

Eric slipped his arm around her waist. “We’ll find her, Sandra.”

“I wish that was a promise you could make, but there is a chance that…”

“Nope. Don’t even go down that road. It’s far too soon.”

She heard his words, his advice, and they held merit. “You’re right. Olivia needs me to stay strong so she can come home safe.” She started walking toward her building. Normally, Georgetown’s old-town charm filled her with a sense of security and blanketed her with warmth. Not tonight. The cold night air bit her nose and assaulted her cheeks. She tucked her head down and trudged along the red-brick sidewalk.

Olivia, your mom’s coming.