“I did a fast check on Nutsy. I didn’t see anything that would qualify him to be a security guard.”
“He was working as a bagger at one of the box stores. He helped Plover to his car with his groceries, struck up a conversation, and Plover hired him to do security. He doesn’t have a license to carry and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t own a gun. At least not legally.”
“That sounds like Nutsy. He had a gift for convincing people he could do anything. And mostly he could. He’d jump off a bridge, seduce the librarian, eat cat food, streak the length of a football field during halftime in thirty-degree weather.”
A message appeared on Ranger’s monitor that the hospital video was ready to view. Ranger brought it up, fast-forwarded through the first hour, and stopped the action.
“This looks promising,” he said.
Two figures in scrubs and surgical gowns and masks rolled an empty stretcher out of the service elevator and pushed it into Dugan’s room. Four minutes later the stretcher was rolled out of the room and down the hall, and disappeared into the elevator. A person roughly the size of Dugan appeared to be on the stretcher.
Ranger called his technician and told him to access all exit cameras between eight o’clock and eight thirty.
“Is it possible these are hospital people and Dugan was taken off somewhere for a medical procedure?” I asked Ranger.
“Not likely. It would have been in his chart.”
“I’m thinking these are both men. It’s hard to tell under the scrubs and gowns and masks and caps, but they move like men.”
Ranger replayed the video two more times.
“The smaller of the two might be female,” he said. “Beyond that there are no recognizable features. I’ll have one of the technicians enhance the images and we might get something.”
The exit videos came up and Ranger displayed them all on his monitor. He isolated the feed from a back door that opened into a parking lot reserved for medical examiner and mortuary vehicles. The stretcher carrying Dugan appeared in the doorway where a white panel van was backed up to a short ramp. The stretcher was rolled into the van. The shorter person wearing scrubs stayed in back with Dugan and the taller one drove the van out of the lot.
The van was filthy, and the license plate was obscured in mud. It was a Jersey plate with only the first number partially visible. A three or an eight.
“Someone stole Dugan,” I said.
“If the police don’t already have this information, I’m sure they will shortly,” Ranger said. “They should be able to spot the van if they get right on it.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “Dugan left a note saying that he was going home. This might not immediately be considered a crime.”
My phone dinged with a text from Connie. Bob ate Lula’s new Star magazine.
“I have to go,” I said to Ranger. “Emergency at the office. Let me know if you come up with anything.”
* * *
Bob was sprawled on the faux leather couch when I rolled into the office.
“He ate my magazine,” Lula said. “And I wasn’t done with it. I never got to find out what the big secret is with Jennifer Aniston.”
I slouched into the plastic chair that was in front of Connie’s desk. “Did you have any luck finding Dugan?”
“Nothing,” Connie said. “Despite all his injuries, he hasn’t checked into any of the medical centers or urgent care facilities. Jeannie Swick works in records at the medical center here on Hamilton. I talked to her a half hour ago and she said the official word is that Dugan signed himself out.”
I showed Connie and Lula a screenshot taken from Ranger’s monitor. “Two people dressed in surgical scrubs loaded Dugan into a van and took off with him.”
“I bet they aren’t even real doctors,” Lula said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them was that woman at the jump-off. Sissy.”
“Dugan’s shift at the button factory is done at four o’clock,” I said to Lula. “I thought we could hang out at the main gate and see if we spot her leaving.”
“I’m up for that,” Lula said. “Do you think she’s really his sister?”
“According to our files, he doesn’t have a sister.”
I took Bob for a walk, and then I drove everyone to the button factory. I parked in an area reserved for visitors, and we all walked halfway around the block to the employee exit and adjoining parking lot. At precisely four o’clock, the doors opened, and people began pouring out. Lula stood at the pathway that led to the sidewalk. Bob and I watched the people heading for the parking lot. After a half hour the parking lot was almost empty and there were only a few stragglers exiting the building.
Lula walked over to Bob and me. “I didn’t see Sissy,” she said. “How about you?”
“I didn’t see her,” I said, “but there were a lot of people rushing to their cars all at once and it would have been easy to miss her.”
Truth is, I’d only seen her very briefly that one time, and I wasn’t sure I would even recognize her. There were a lot of women with short brown hair working at the button factory.
A text message from Ranger popped up on my phone. I’ll pick you up at 7:15 tonight.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Sometimes Ranger is a man of too few words,” I said to Bob. “I’m assuming this isn’t a dinner date, but beyond that I haven’t a clue.”
I knew it wasn’t a dinner date because Ranger didn’t date. He seduced. He rescued. He tended to business.
At 7:10 I hooked Bob up to his leash and went downstairs to wait for Ranger. At precisely 7:15 the lights on his black Porsche Cayenne flashed at the entrance to my parking lot and Ranger pulled up in front of me. I opened the back passenger-side door, tossed in a dog biscuit, and Bob jumped into the back seat. I sat next to Ranger.
“Babe,” Ranger said, still idling at the building.
“Morelli had to go on a business trip, and he asked me to take care of Bob.”
Ranger glanced in the rearview mirror at Bob. “Why is he in my car?”
“If I leave him alone in my apartment, he gets bored and he eats things… like my couch. You didn’t say anything about the night’s activities, so I thought it might be okay for Bob to ride along.”
“I want to search Andy Manley’s room, so this afternoon his parents were lucky enough to be chosen at random by the local radio station for dinner for two at Trattoria Romano. Drinks and dessert included. Reservation at seven o’clock. I thought you would want to join me.”
“Absolutely.”
Ranger flicked another glance at Bob. “Is Bob going to be an asset?”
A mental video of Bob running down a bunch of crazed cats flashed through my head. “No,” I said, “Bob wouldn’t be an asset.”
Ten minutes later a black Rangeman Ford Explorer parked next to us. Rodriguez was driving and Hal was riding shotgun.
I handed Bob over to Hal. “Behave yourself,” I said to Bob.
“Don’t worry,” Hal said to me. “We’ll take good care of him. I’ve got two dogs of my own.”
“What kind of dogs do you have?” I asked him.