The SEAL stepped back as both the passenger and the driver climbed out. They weren’t high school boys as Shay had first thought. They were young men, really—both in their late teens or early twenties.
Both were white. They were dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and unzipped hoodies, and both had facial hair. The driver had a chin-strengthening goatee, while the passenger had a full, bushy hipster beard. He also had long, limp, straight hair that he wore down around his face. Maybe Peter had seen him getting into the maroon sedan and somehow thought he was Maddie…? That seemed so unlikely.
Twilight plus wishful thinking might’ve created the illusion, Harry murmured. Damn it, the girl’s not in the car.
Shay could tell from Peter’s body language that the backseat was empty as the long-haired, bearded man shook his head. “I don’t know any Maggies, do you, Ding?” He looked over at the driver, who had a deer-in-the-headlights blankness on his slack face.
Ding, Harry said as the driver managed to shake his head, no. Wimpy McGee’s nickname is Ding. Sweet baby Jesus, save us all.
“It’s Maddie,” Peter repeated with better enunciation. “With a D.” He’d expanded to full, menacing Navy SEAL alpha-male size as he held out his cellphone, where presumably he showed them a photo of his daughter. Ding shuffled a little closer so he could peer at it, too. “Have you seen her? Maddie Nakamura.”
He was looking directly at Ding, who needed to clear his throat extensively before he managed to speak. “Don’t know any Maddies, either. Sorry, mate. Can’t help you.” He had a weird Australian-ish accent.
Ding attempted to shuffle away, but Big Beard asked Peter, “Is your last name really Nakamura, man?”
“Maddie took her mother’s name. Mine’s Greene.” The SEAL somehow got even bigger. More dangerous. “Lieutenant Peter Greene.”
Oh, that was so James Bond, Harry murmured. How are you not melting into a puddle?
“Shh.”
“If you see her,” Peter continued, “or hear from her, you can reach me at the naval base on Coronado. I’m a BUD/S instructor. A Navy SEAL.” He looked hard at Ding. “Mate.”
Ding quaked, even as Big Beard said, “Wow. Thanks for your service, bro. Seriously, that Navy SEAL shit is intense. Sorry we can’t help. But good luck finding her. C’mon, Dingo. The mall is calling.”
Dingo! Harry was elated. Of course. Because he’s an “Aussie.” He made air quotes.
Shayla agreed. That accent was faux.
Mofo-faux, Harry said. Your SEAL knows it, too.
He was not. Her. SEAL.
Dingo and his buddy headed toward the elevator, and even though Peter made like he was heading back to Shay’s car, he stopped suddenly and called after them, “Oh, one more thing. I’m pretty sure Maddie tells people she’s older, but she’s only fifteen.”
Dingo tripped—no doubt over his giant, hulking guilt.
And, scene! Harry said. He began to slow-clap. Well done, Greene, Lieutenant Greene! That was a perfectly executed Columbo. Take their picture, Shay. We’re going to want to ID ’em as we follow up their tremendously stanky box o’ bullshit.
Shay used her phone and snapped photos of the pair as Dingo’s friend covered for him deftly. “Dude, your shoe’s untied. I swear to God, I can’t take you anywhere.” He pushed Dingo down to fumble with his shoelace as he raised his voice. “Sorry, man, I get that you’re pissed, but we still don’t know her.”
“I’m not mad,” Peter tried. “Not at her, not at you. She’s not in trouble.”
Ooh, a man who listens and learns, Harry noted. That’s a new one for you, Shay.
“Shh.”
“I just want to talk,” Peter implored the two young men. “Please. Ask Maddie to call me. I just want to know that she’s okay.”
“Still haven’t managed to meet her in the past three seconds,” Big Beard said as he now hustled Dingo toward the other end of the garage.
Meanwhile, Peter went back to the maroon sedan for one more long look into the backseat. He tried the door, but it was locked. He tried the front door—also locked—then looked around, up at the ceiling where…
Yup, Harry said. Security cameras. A full array. Will he or won’t he B&E…? My money says no.
The SEAL chose not to break and enter. Instead, he climbed back into Shay’s car. He still smelled great, despite the disappointment that practically dripped from him.
Shay focused on putting her window back up as she briskly told him, “I made a note of the license plate number. I also got photos of Dingo and Dumber. I figured we might need that to help us ID ’em.” She showed him her phone.
“Wow, thanks. Good thinking,” Peter said. “Will you text them to me?”
“Of course,” she said as he used a finger to flip through her collection, all the way back to, whoops, a selfie she’d taken before her latest ultra-short haircut—of what she’d called her crazy writer hair for the readers on her Facebook page. Although, seriously, if she was willing to post that on her public page, she really shouldn’t care if her Navy SEAL neighbor saw it. “Just go ahead and send them to your phone.”
Peter did just that as she found the signs leading upward to the parking garage’s exit. She could move much faster now that she wasn’t following the barge-sized maroon car, so she pushed it, wanting to get out of the garage’s certain-death-in-an-earthquake zone ASAP.
She’d almost reached aboveground level when he finally spoke. “So…I’m not alone in thinking that they know Maddie?”
“Dingo definitely does,” Shay said. “He’s a terrible liar.”
He nodded. “Yeah, Dingo. Jesus. He’s probably from exotic, faraway Burbank.” At her blank look, he added, “The Valley, the burbs north of LA…?”
“I’m still learning California geography,” Shay admitted. “I’m from New York, with a long post-college stop in Boston.” She pulled out of the garage and onto the open street. Thank God. She poked at her GPS, but it was still confused, and Harry had, for once, gracefully vanished when the SEAL climbed back into the car. Not that he was particularly good with directions, either, considering he was a figment of her imagination. “Right now, for example, I have no idea where I am.”
“Bang a right up here,” Peter ordered with authority. “And then left at the light. If you don’t mind, I want to backtrack all the way to where you picked me up, because…” He exhaled hard. “Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I saw Maddie get into that car.”
“It’s okay,” Shay said. “I’m happy to help.” Tevin had borrowed his father’s car and was on schedule to pick up his little brother when the debate club practice ended at nine. And because these days her “writing” time consisted mainly of gnashing her teeth as she deleted the paltry few paragraphs she’d written over the past day, it was nice to have something constructive and purposeful to do that had an actual chance of successful completion.