“Where the hell is the owner?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “He hasn’t left the country, at least not by any means that requires his passport.”
“Of course, now that we’ve found the child, even if he planned on coming home, chances are he’s not anymore.”
“Well, it’s not like you or I would anyway,” he said. “And I hardly doubt that he can pass this off as being anything other than his house.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” she said, “but we’ve seen guys act like they had absolutely nothing to do with anything before. It always amazes me.”
“I know,” he said. “Come on. Let’s finish up.”
They went room by room on the second story and ended up back in the master bedroom once again. They checked under the bed and the night tables, also for hidden pockets in the walls, inspecting everything they could think of. And found nothing.
She shook her head. “You know a safe is here somewhere.” She walked over to the huge closet again and moved all the clothes back, pulling them out this time. “Here it is.” And she pointed to the safe. She stared at the combination lock and said, “This one looks even older than the last one.”
“Maybe your friend will send you the combination.”
She pulled out her phone, checked it, and said, “He’s been asking for updates.”
“Well, tell him you need the number.” She looked at him, startled, as he shrugged. “Hey, he sent it to you last time. Maybe he would send you another one.”
“Oh my God, he already did send some numbers,” she said, scrolling through her messages. She held it up and said, “Look at the license plate.”
“That’s the same one as the guy who escaped from the kitchen?”
“Yes,” she said. On a whim, she sent him a message.Need a number.
Instead of texting her back, her phone rang.
“What kind of a number?” he said briskly.
“It’s a safe again,” she said. “I have no clue.”
“Did you get anywhere tonight?”
She turned to Rodney and smiled. “Yes. We found a little girl. Alive.”
“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Twelve, nine, forty-two.” Then he hung up.
She stared down at her phone, then looked at Rodney and shrugged. “He said, twelve, nine, and forty-two.” She quickly ran the tumblers back and forth, dialing to the numbers he gave her, and, when it clicked, she just stared. She turned to look back at Rodney and said, “This guy is dangerous.”
“Or a huge asset,” he said.
“I don’t think I like the asset part.” She pulled open the safe and stared. “Holy shit.” It was full of albums and binders. Still gloved up, she pulled out the top binder, and it was full of children. Grim-faced, she handed it off to Rodney and pulled out more. “Jesus Christ,” she said. “These are all photos of children.”
“But that doesn’t mean they are photos he had anything to do with,” he said. “It could be just a picture album.”
“I guess our online forensic techs could tell us that. They can do a facial recognition on these kids. We’ll need to send those to ICE at bare minimum.” With all the albums collected, she found an envelope in the back of the safe. She pulled it forward, a paper clip holding it shut. She popped that open, took a look, and whistled.
“What is it?” Rodney asked.
“Dates and codes,” she said, “maybe for names?”
“Meaning?”
“I’m not sure, but maybe children,” she said. She turned to Rodney. “Crap. I didn’t check the little girl’s wrist,” she said. “I should have.”
“We still can,” he said. “She’s at the hospital.”