"Garcia, security."
"I think my wife, a friend and a young girl are shopping at your mall and I believe they're in danger! Could you possible page them?"
I could hear confusion and hurried voices in the background and someone yelled, 'they're here, come on'. Garcia answered, "What kind of danger?"
The fact he didn't dismiss me abruptly was more disturbing than if he had. "All of them are being stalked by a serial killer we're sure is now in town."
"You better get down her," Garcia said gruffly. "A woman was attacked in the ladies room. The cops and medics just got here. I've got to go; here talk to Mrs. Samuels."
I didn't bother to talk to Mrs. Samuels. Instead I turned to the clerk who'd overheard enough of the conversation to look like his dog ate his cat. "How can we get to that mall! We don't have a car. . ."
"I'll drive you," Pual said as he came out from behind the counter and hurried to the front door, leaving his boss and the elderly couple behind with mouths agape. I thanked him profusely on the way to his car.
I rode shotgun in an ancient Ford with a flag of Nigeria painted on the dashboard while Howie hung over the seat amid a month's supply of fast food wrappers and not a few empty beer cans. I repeated Garcia's conversation over my shoulder. Our motel was at least five or six miles up the coast highway through town. Our clerk-driver wheeled his old wreck like a big apple cabbie.
"We don't know it's them," Howie cried, sounding anything but convinced. Before I could respond, my cell phone played a Chopin etude. I answered to detective Jackson.
"They found the fucking motor home, right in plain sight. The damn thing might as well had a sign on it, saying, hey, coppers, here I am! And the baby is still unclaimed, at least legitimately. Eleven women jumped over their TVs to either adopt her or say they're mommy. Only half are black and half nut cases. How do we find out if she's the LeBlanc's? Would the kid answer to a name?"
"If she did, she'd be on national TV! She's only four months old, for God's sake!" I calmed down enough to explain the situation before ending the conversation.
As we made the turn into the mall I could see at least half dozen police cruisers, some with lights still spinning, parked helter-skelter near the entrance. As we braked to a stop, an ambulance pulled forward, its lights ablaze. I had my hand on the door handle but instead asked our driver to follow it. I turned to Howie.