It was a clear autumn afternoon in New York City. I would have preferred spending my time outside, enjoying the weather or working a case. Things just didn't work out that way, though. I was going over some notes on a case that had grown cold, while hoping for something to happen to break the boredom. Although I enjoyed my job, going over notes and doing paperwork was a part of it that I hated.
I was saved from my own mini-hell by a chime from the console on my desk. I pressed a button and the face of my friend and assistant, D, hovered in front of me. I knew she was in assistant mode by the serious look on her face. “Trace, a woman is here to see you,” she said with very little emotion in her voice. She once told me that she thought clients took her more seriously if she didn't smile while in their presence. I laughed at the thought of her trying to intimidate people in this way, especially with the bright green hair that she had.
“Okay, let her in,” I responded. I closed the file on my computer with the notes and watched as the doors slid open. A dark-skinned woman walked slowly into my office. She was wearing a light blue blouse with a black skirt and black open-toed shoes. Her wavy hair was cut around her ears. She had an athletic body. I could tell that she spent a lot of time exercising and taking care of herself. She walked with the grace of a trained dancer, a quiet power in her stride. What stood out to me the most, though, was the look of sadness and loss in her light brown eyes. I stood up and introduced myself, extending my hand. She shook it and said her name was Faith. Her hand had a slight tremble to it. I motioned for her to take a seat in the chair in front of my desk.
We sat there in silence for a moment before faith took a deep breath and started talking. “I have a problem, and was told you are the best person to help me with it.”
“What sort of problem?”
“My sixteen year old daughter has gone missing. We haven't seen or heard from her for over a week now,” she said, tears filling her eyes.
“Have you gone to the cops?”
“Yes, and they made a report, but they say there isn't much they can do. They say a lot of teens run away from home, usually because of drugs or a boyfriend, and return home eventually. But I know my Jamie isn't into any drugs. She is a good child.” Faith paused, trying to maintain her composure. “I know this isn't something she would do.”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
Faith reached into her purse and pulled out a holochip. I took it from her and pressed the button on it. Instantly, a holographic image of Jamie flickered to life. She had a mahogany complexion and wavy hair like her mother, but longer, down past her shoulders. She also had her mother's eyes, and a nose I assumed came from her father. In the image she was wearing black jeans and black-and-blue sneakers. She also had on a varsity sports jacket.
“What sport does she play?” I asked Faith.
“She was on the basketball team. That's how we first realized something was wrong. Her coach called us last Wednesday when she didn't show up for practice after school.”
I spent the next ten minutes getting as much relevant information from Faith on her daughter as I possibly could. The last thing we talked about before she left was my fee. With that done and Faith gone, I rang D to come into my office.
D walked in and sat down. Even while wearing jeans, sneakers, and a simple blouse, she looked inhumanely neat. I wondered briefly how she even managed to keep that green hair kept in such a neat ponytail. Instead, I told her about the case and everything Faith told me. “So where are we gonna start?” she asked.
“I figured we could start at the school. Check out her friends, teammates, and coach, see if they noticed anything. I'll also check along her usual route that she takes to get home. She doesn't live far from the school and walks to and from there everyday.” We sat and brainstormed for a few more minutes before I let her go and start doing her part of the investigation. I walked over to the closet and pulled out my leather shoulder holster. I strapped it on and made sure to check that my two pistols, Smith and Wesson .45's, were loaded and the safeties were on. I also slipped my small knife into a sheath above my right ankle. I checked myself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door to make sure everything was in place. My image stared back at me, with its shaved head, neatly-trimmed goatee, black jeans, and black shirt. Pulling on a black leather duster, I exited my office.
I made my way to the underground lot of the building where my office was located. Since the weather was pleasant, I had rode my hovercycle in today. I hopped on and pressed my thumb to the starter button. It took a second to scan my thumbprint before turning on the electronics. I leaned forward and repeated the voice-recognition phrase that I set up for the bike. The computer acknowledged my identity and started the hover engine with a high whine. I slid the helmet over my head and turned the bike to exit the parking structure. I turned east down W. 72nd Street and then headed down Broadway.
The traffic was fairly light, so I was able to make good time down to the Brooklyn Bridge. I always enjoyed driving around the city and passing through the different neighborhoods. Every section of the city had its own feel, its own rhythm that people like me enjoyed. As I made my way across the bridge, I took a moment to take in the view of the revamped Brooklyn Navy Yards. There was a lot of activity in the yards, especially after the government took control back of the area at the beginning of the Indian-Pakistani War back in 2019. That one was a real mess, but one of the highlights for me was that first time shipping out from right here at the Navy Yards. I was younger, and the idea of going to fight for my country's allies seemed like a grand adventure at the time.
I exited off the bridge and made my way south towards Atlantic Ave. and the Boerum Hill neighborhood. It was a pleasant upper-middle class area with a lot of small commercial businesses and brownstones for one or two families. I cruised around the neighborhood on my hovercycle for a while to get the feel for the area and the lay of the land. I found a place to park my vehicle and made my way to the main street, Atlantic Ave.
I walked around to some of the shops on the street, showing a holopic of Jaime to the people in the stores. Quite a few people recognized her from the neighborhood, and a few more recognized her from the brief newsflash about a missing girl from the area, but none of them had any real information about what happened to her.
I made my way down the street and entered a convenience store. Feeling thirsty, I got a bottle of water and took it to the counter. There was a young woman at the cash register. She stood about 5'5” with a thick build, wavy dirty blonde hair, round brown eyes, pale skin, and a bored look on her face. Her shirt bore the image of a giant robot smashing a building. She was leaning on the counter reading a technology magazine when I placed the water on the counter. The young woman gave a cursory glance at me and the bottle before asking, “Is that all, Sir?” She couldn't have sounded more bored if she was watching water evaporate.
“Actually, yeah, you might be able to help me,” I answered. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the holochip with the image of Jaime on it. “Have you seen this girl around here?”
The woman squinted her eyes as she studied the image. “Yeah, that's the girl who's been missing for about a week, isn't it?”
“Yeah, it is. Do you know her?”
“Not really. I mean, she came in here often, so I knew her in passing as a regular customer, but I didn't really know her.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about her the last time you saw her?”
The young woman looked up blankly towards the ceiling. “Well, not her, but there was this kinda weird guy who kept staring at her the last couple of times she was in here.”
My heart started racing when I heard this, but I kept my face impassive. “What do you mean weird?”
“He just had this look, ya know? Like, pervy. He looked at me and her the same way, like he was picturing us naked or something. It made me feel dirty.”
“Do you remember anything else about this guy?”
“He was about six feet tall, maybe a little taller, and kinda thin, especially his face. Oh,” she said, snapping her fingers, “and he had a Russian accent.”
“Do you have security cams in this place?” I asked her.
“Yeah, one behind the counter aimed at us, and one aimed at the door.”
“Do you think I could see the footage from the last Wednesday, when she disappeared?”
The young woman looked at me with reluctance written all over her face. “Well, I don't know if I should...”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a $50 bill. “Look, um,”
“ Abby,” she said.
“Abby,” I repeated, nodding. “I'm looking for this girl, and it would help me out a lot if you could do this for me,” I said, smiling. I slid the bill across the counter to her.
She hesitated a moment before taking the money. “Come on,” she said, gesturing with her head towards the back of the store. I followed her through a door into a small room with a computer. She sat down and brought up the security camera footage. The holographic image of the front of the store hovered in the air next to us. After a few minutes, we were back at the day Jaime disappeared. I saw the Russian guy Abby described walk into the store, and a minute later Jaime entered. She bought some juice and chips before leaving. The Russian guy followed about thirty seconds later, apparently in the same direction as Jaime. I asked Abby to go back and pause the footage at a good spot where we could clearly see the Russian's face.
“Can I get a copy of this?” I asked.
“Yeah, give me a nano.” Her fingers danced across the keyboard, and I quickly had an image of the Russian loaded onto the holochip. I thanked Abby as we walked back to the front of the store. I took the bottle of water and left. Now that I had a pic of someone who may have been involved in Jaime's disappearance, and knew that he was Russian, I knew where I had to go next.
