Where’s Ian?

WHERE’S IAN?

‘The room is unfamiliar.  I don’t know how I got here,” said Ian.

“Where is here?” asked Jen.

Frustration rose in Ian’s voce.  “I don’t know where ‘here’ is, Jen!  I just told you I don’t recognize the room!”

There was a pause before Jen spoke again as she tried to get her own irritation under control.  “Sorry, Ian, stupid question.”  She paused, thinking.  “Are you able to move around.”

“Yeah,” he said, more annoyance creeping into his voice.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jen took a breath.  This was not the time to chirp back at Ian.  He’d phoned her because something had happened to him and he needed her help. But she didn’t know the circumstances.  She needed to know what was going on.  And to do that she couldn’t make Ian angry.

“I only ask because maybe you were being restrained, or locked in a room.  But the fact that you still have your phone makes me think you’re unrestrained.  Can you look out the window?  Or maybe go outside?”

Ian didn’t answer, but Jen heard rustling., then a door opening.  “Uh, it looks like I’m at a motel.  But I don’t recognize the neighbourhood.”

“Can you go to the office, and ask them where you are?”

“No!  They’re going to think I’m an idiot.  I’m not going to do that!”

Jen thought about the tracking software she’d put on Ian’s phone.  Should she tell him?  Or should she let him figure out where he was on his own?

“Is your truck in the parking lot?”

A pause, then.  “Damnit!” he cursed.  “It’s not here.  Where’d I leave my truck?”

Jen didn’t say anything.  She recognized a rhetorical question when she heard one.  Instead she asked, “Do you have your keys?”

Pause.  “Yes.”  She heard the jingling of the keys.

Jen nodded, even though Ian couldn’t see her.  “That’s good, right?  That means that your truck probably wasn’t stolen, it’s just parked somewhere else.  If you can find out where you are, I can come and get you, and we can figure out what happened to you.”

“And find my friggin’ truck.”

Your truck.  Of course,  she thought.  Don’t worry about how and why you woke up in an unknown motel room.

She heard him walking, then a short buzzing sound.  “Fine” he said.  ‘I’ll call you right back.”

Jen disconnected the call.  She had so many questions.  But badgering Ian was only going to piss him off.  And a pissed-off Ian was not pleasant.  She smiled.  A not-pissed-off Ian wasn’t any picnic, either. 

Jen decided to track Ian’s phone.  It was her job to keep track of him, and if she had to track his phone without telling him, so be it.  Same with his truck.  

She fiddled with her phone, and saw that Ian’s phone was way out on the west-end of the city, at the corner of Gander Avenue and Beach Street.  She fiddled with her phone again and opened up a map of the area.  According to Google Maps, Ian was at the Waterside Motel.  From the street view, Jen was pretty sure it was a pay-by-the-hour kind of motel in not the best part of town.  She switched apps, and opened app for the Air Tag that she’d stuck under Ian’s driver’s seat so she could track his truck.  She zoomed in on the map, and sighed.  It was parked in the lot of Golden Temptations Gentlemen’s Club.

Of course it is, she thought, staring at the map. 

It had been almost ten minutes since Ian had hung up.  He’d said that he’d call her right back.  Jen knew that Ian would probably do a lot of things to annoy her, but leaving her hanging wasn’t one of them.  She picked up her phone and dialled his number.  

Ring … Ring … Ring … Ring … Click.  

“It’s me.  Leave a message.”

“Shit!”  Jen disconnected the call.  Now she was worried.  She grabbed her bag and left the house.  Once in her car, she looked up the directions to get to the Waterside Motel.

On the drive over, she went through their conversation.  Ian didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t know why he was there, and he didn’t know how he got there.  He didn’t say if he’d been hurt.  He didn’t say what he’d been doing.  He didn’t say with whom.  Jen knew that she had avoided asking him the hard questions because he was already in a pissy mood, and she didn’t want him going off on her.

I should have done my job.

Pulling into the parking lot of the motel, she had no idea what room Ian had been in.  There were at least twenty rooms in a “U” shape, with parking and an empty swimming pool in the middle.  A neon sign flashed “Vaca-cy” above what Jen assumed was the office.  She parked in close to the front door and got out of her car, making sure to lock it.  

She looked around.  No sign of Ian.  No sign of anybody, actually.  It was 7:10 a.m. on a Sunday morning, so, maybe no big surprise.  She opened her phone finder app, and and tracked the signal.  Instead of directing her to one of the rooms, the signal sent her into the office.

Opening the door, Jen heard the same buzzing sound from the call with Ian.  She looked around.  It was the same as a million other low-rent motels—a couple cheap plastic chairs, a dead philodendron on a box between the chairs, a carpet that had probably never met a vacuum cleaner.  To the right of the door was a registration desk, surrounded by bulletproof Lexan glass.

Nice neighbourhood, she thought.  

 There was a pass-through slot and a metal speaker above the slot, as well as a not-so-shiny call bell beside the opening.  Jen walked towards the desk and tapped the bell.  A few seconds later, the curtain that blocked the office from the back room was shoved aside, and a woman walked out.  

She looked at Jan.  “Check-in isn’t til four o’clock.  Come back then.”  She turned to leave.

Jen moved over to the speaker.  “I don’t want to check in.  I’m looking for one of your guests.”

The woman dead-eyed Jan.  “I can’t help you.”

Jen pulled out her badge, slapping it against the glass so the woman couldn’t help but see it.

“You have a warrant?” asked the woman, unsurprised and unimpressed

“No, I don’t have a warrant” snapped Jen.  “But what I do have is a tracking device for my agent, and it says that his phone is in this office, and I need that phone.  Now.”

“It’s not your phone, so it’s not your business,” said the woman, her arms folded across her chest, almost daring Jen to do something about it.

“My agent is missing, and his phone is here.  I want that phone.”

“No warrant, no phone,” said the woman, not moving.

Jen took a deep breath.  “Okay, I’ll get the warrant.  But while we’re waiting for the warrant to come through, you need to stand exactly where you are.  If you leave, or even move, you will be charged with evade police.  If you try to dispose of any evidence, you will be charged with destruction of evidence, accessory after the fact, and obstruct police.  And because I’m not a local cop, these charges will be federal.”  She dead-eyed the woman right back.  “Or, you can give me the phone.  Your choice.”  Jen mimicked the woman’s stance, arms crossed in front of her.

The woman looked around coming to a decision.  “I have to get it from the back.”

“I don’t think so.  You open up that door—” she nodded to the left of the registration area, “— and I will come with you.”

“We’re not supposed to let anyone back here.”  The woman’s voice morphed from belligerent to whiny.  Jen preferred belligerent.

“If you don’t let me in we are going to have a problem.  I can’t let you handle evidence.  If you won’t let me in, that, again, means a warrant.”

“Fine!” said the woman, walking to a reinforced man-door to the left of the reception desk, opening it for Jen.

“Where’s the phone?” she asked.

The woman tilted her head towards the back room.

“Show me,” said Jen.

The woman walked through the curtain towards a cluttered desk.  She picked up her purse from the top.  Before the woman could put her hand in it, Jen reached out and grabbed the oversized bag.  

“Hey!  That’s my personal property.”

Jen ignored her, and looked inside.  There, on top of the bag’s contents, was Ian’s phone.  

Jen looked from the bag to the woman.  “What’s your name?”

“Noreen.”

“Well Noreen, care to explain why my agent’s phone is in your purse?”

Noreen broke eye contact. “For safe keeping,” she said.

“Uh huh,” said Jen, glaring at the woman.

“Noreen, how did you get this phone?”

Noreen said nothing.

Jen asked again.  “How did you get my agent’s phone?”

Still nothing.

“Noreen, last time—how’d you get the phone?

“I don’t remember.”

“Really?  Because I was speaking with my agent on the phone when he came into this office.”

Noreen said nothing.

“Maybe a few days in a federal lockup will help with your memory,” said Jen forcing Noreen to look at her.

“Let. E guess. He forgot it, so you decided to keep it?” Jen asked the woman, knowing that was exactly what had happened.

Jen watched as colour crept up Noreen’s cheeks.  “Noooo,” she said reverting back to whining.  “I just put it in my purse for safe-keeping.  There are a lot of dishonest people in this neighbourhood.”

Noreen’s blush reddened drastically.  Apparently, she recognized the irony of her own statement.  

Jen switched tactics.  She opened her own phone and pulled up a picture of Ian.  “Was this the man with the phone?”

Noreen looked at the photo.  “Yeah, but he didn’t look that good.”

“What do you mean?”

Noreen shrugged.  “I dunno.  He was kinda messy—his hair wasn’t combed, he was all grizzly, but not in a good way.”

“Grizzly?” asked Jen.

“Yeah.  He needed a shave, and maybe a shower.  And his clothes were a mess.”

“What was he wearing?”

“I dunno.  Jeans maybe.  Leather jacket, black t-shirt.”  Another shrug.  “I remembered the shirt because it was ripped, but not like a fashion-thing.  It was ripped at the neck.  Like he was in a fight.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to see his room.”

Noreen shook her head.  “No way.”

Jen cocked her head to one side and asked, “Warrant?”

“You’re gonna get me fired!”

Jen just stared.

“Fine!” said Noreen, not happy with the situation.  “But once you’re done, just leave, okay?  I don’t need the feds hanging around!  My boss is going to kill me!”  She reached under the desk.  There was a swiping sound.  “Here’s the key card.  Room 18.  Now leave me alone.”

“Two more questions—how long did he rent the room 18 for?”

Noreen bent over and looked at the computer screen.  “A week.  He’s out next Sunday morning.  Now get out.”

“What name did he use?”

Noreen was trying hard to control her anger.  “Ben Dover.”

Jen almost snorted.  Ian you’re an idiot! she thought.  Out loud she said, “Thanks for your help, Noreen.”  And she left the office heading towards room 18.

Jen approached the room cautiously.  She listened at the door.  It was quiet.  There were a number of possible scenarios.  Best case—Ian was in the room sleeping.  Less best, he was in there hurt.  Worst case, he was in there dead.  Or he wasn’t in there at all.  Or there was someone in the room just waiting for Ian to come back.

Jen approached the door, tapped the keycard.  When the light flashed green, she swung the door inwards, while stepping away from the door.  When no one came out, or shot at her, she poked her head through the door.  The room was completely quiet.  Jen ducked into the room, weapon at the ready.  The main area was empty.  She moved through the small room—washroom—empty, closet—empty.  Not only empty as in no one in the room, but empty of belongings.  Jen quickly swept the room, looking for any sign that Ian had been there.

She left the room, locking the door, and went back to the office.  She tapped the bell.

“What now?” said Noreen.

“No one is to go into that room.  Not housekeeping, not people who claim to be friends of Mr. Dover, not you looking to secure any items for safekeeping.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever.”

Jen left and headed to her car.  Next stop—Golden Temptations Gentlemen’s Club.  She hoped she wouldn’t be too late.

The club was only a couple of blocks away.  And there in the parking lot, surprisingly still intact, was Ian’s truck.  Jen parked across the road from the club and walked over to the truck, slipping on a pair of latex gloves.  Around the time that she’d put the air tag in the truck she’d helped herself to Ian’s keys and had a copy made and cloned his key fob.  She opened the doors and searched Ian’s truck.

When she was finished with the search, she walked back to her car and waited.

About ten minutes later, Ian arrived in a cab.  Jen watched him pay the cabbie.  He watched the cab disappear, then checked out the street.  His eyes slid over Jen’s car without stopping.

When he was almost at the truck, Jen got out and walked quietly behind Ian.  When he reached the truck, she spoke.

“Hey, Ian.  Good to see you in one piece.  I was worried.”

Ian literally jumped from surprise, and whirled to look at her.  “Hey, Jen!  I found my truck!”  He quirked an eyebrow at her.  “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for your truck.  Like you.”

“How’d you find it?” he asked, looking around, making sure they were alone.

Jen just smiled, not answering his question.  Instead she asked, “Ian, why didn’t you call me back?”

He looked around.  “I, uh, lost my phone.”

“Ahh,” she said, slipping her hand into her jacket pocket.  “This phone?”  She pulled it out and showed it to him.

“Wow!” he said, “Thanks for finding it.”  He smiled, holding out his hand.  “I’ll take it, now.”  Jen noticed the sweat breaking out on Ian’s forehead.  He wiped at it absently.

“Don’t you want to know how I found it?”

Ian smiled, sort of.  “You have your ways.”  He laughed, sort of.  “Can I have it back?  You know how it is when you lose your phone.”

“Sorry, Ian.  No can do.  It’s evidence now.”

“Evidence?  For what?”

“Your case, of course.”  She smiled at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  What case?”

“The corruption case for all the bribes and pay offs you took.  I’ve been investigating you for almost a year now.  Last payment was what, three hundred thousand dollars?   Ian gulped audibly.  Jen continued.  “I’m pretty sure you’ve been doing this for quite awhile.”

“I don’t—“

“Forget it, Ian.  I know that you staged your disappearance.  You called me so that I would think something had happened to you.  You ditched your phone, planted some of your own blood in your room, making it look like there was a fight hoping we’d think you’d been abducted, never to be seen again.  We’d think that you’d been killed by the cartels.  I was worried that I would be too late, and you’d take off.  But you couldn’t leave your truck.  That was your big mistake.” She paused and smiled. “That, and leaving your new id in your truck.”  She pulled out a passport from her other jacket pocket.  Opening it she read,  “Blaine Carter.  Nice ring to it.”

Ian looked panicked.  “Look, I have almost five million dollars.  I’ll give you half.  It’s yours.  Just let me walk away.”

“Uh huh, and how am I going to get my money?”

Ian pulled a different phone out of his pants pocket.  “On this,” he said, showing the phone to Jen.  “I just need an account number, and it’s yours.”

“I don’t think so, Ian.  I’m going to arrest you instead.”  She made a move as if to reach for her handcuffs.  Ian pulled a gun from the back of his jeans, pointing it at Jen.  But she was faster.  She shot Ian dead.

Jen was stunned.  She’d just killed a friend.  She felt horrible. 

 But the thought of five million dollars made her feel a lot better.  She reached over and grabbed his other phone and put it in her pocket