“Or she might be in Philly, like I said.”
Angie ignored him. “We’ll cruise down Fourteenth Street near the old red light district. Not optimistic though.”
“What about the hotels along New York Avenue?” Mike suggested. “Then check out the fringe areas around Catholic and Gallaudet.”
“Good call,” Angie said. “While we’re at it, let’s roll by Adams Morgan, too. Maybe stake out the Cambria Hotel, The Donovan at Thomas Circle, swing by some of the clubs.”
“Oh good. We’ll get our groove on.”
Mike wiggled his upper body in a toned down dance jig that revealed plenty about how he’d cut rug at a club.
“No, we got business to do.”
“What kind of business can we do at a club?”
“Nadine’s been gone for over a month now. She needs a place to sleep, food, a lot of amenities.”
“You think she might be working the street? The girl is only sixteen!”
“Yeah. And a girl’s gotta eat.”
CHAPTER 17
Strikeouts all around. Mike and Angie drove around for hours, stopping only once for a bite to eat at an all-night diner in Adams Morgan aptly named The Diner. There, Mike ordered a stack of pancakes, side of bacon, hash browns, and a black coffee chaser. Angie got an egg white omelet with spinach, tomatoes, no cheese, and a gluten-free vegan muffin.
Mike looked personally offended with her choice. “What are you doing?” he’d asked in a semi-harsh tone after the waitress left. “We’re at a diner. You’re supposed to order fun food.”
“Egg white omelets are fun.”
“For sure they’re the Cher to that vegan muffin’s Sonny. I can’t even believe they have vegan muffins at a place like this.”
“Gluten-free vegan,” Angie had corrected. “And they’re everywhere now.”
“No. No. Not everywhere. I’m from Willowick, Ohio and I guarantee you our local diner has no vegan muffins on the menu. Gluten-free maybe, but definitely not gluten-free and vegan.”
“Well, we have a lot of sitting and driving to do and I don’t want to feel gross. Heavy food makes me feel bloated.”
“How does someone make a gluten-free vegan muffin anyway?”
“Almond meal, oat flour, maybe some agave nectar.”
When Mike’s coffee and Angie’s lemon water arrived, he’d toasted Angie with his mug. “I take it back. That muffin sounds like the life of the party.”
For about an hour, they’d gone over the map, reviewing all the places they had visited. They had seen their fair share of young working girls, but nobody who resembled Nadine.
Mike had played the lure. He’d walked the streets while Angie kept a close watch from the car. Girls came to him. “Hey baby, looking for something, baby? Need something, sweetheart?” He was the perfect bait, with his khaki pants and patterned oxford shirt. No undercover cop would look so lame. He’d showed the girls a photograph of Nadine, and gave Angie the thumbs down sign after each encounter.
With luck, the security guard, Sean Musgrave, could give them a lead.
When five AM rolled around, Angie and Mike hit the bus counter at Union Station. She wore comfortable jeans and a loose fitting crew-neck top from Lululemon. Comfortable as she was, she felt as worn as her canvas sneakers. PI work, the real work, was a grind. No other way about it.
Angie tacked flyers on the pillars around the bus bays, knowing they probably wouldn’t stay up. She asked the people at the ticket counter if anyone had seen Nadine or recalled someone purchasing a ticket in her name.
By nine o’clock they were both hungry again.
“How’s that vegan muffin tiding you over?”
“Gluten-free vegan muffin,” Angie said.
They fueled up at the Starbucks inside Union Station and went looking for Musgrave. At noon, they were scheduled to connect with a DC detective who’d been talking to the team at NCMEC. Tracking down a runaway was a battle fought on multiple fronts, and Angie often felt like the general trying to bring disparate armies together.
Angie’s phone rang. Carolyn Jessup.
“Any news?” Her voice shook with longing. Carolyn knew everything Angie did, including the Musgrave lead.
“Nothing yet. We’re about to meet with Sean Musgrave.”
“Anything from Nadine’s cell phone?”
With Carolyn’s permission and the help of the phone company, Angie would be notified if any calls were made from Nadine’s phone. The FIND MY PHONE App was running, but so far there hadn’t been a single ping. Mike had already contacted everyone Nadine spoke with in the twenty-four-hour period before she’d vanished and had come up with blanks all around.
“She’s not coming back, is she?” Carolyn’s breathing turned heavy.