A Necessary Evil(9)
Frankie let out a sigh of frustration. “Detective Jamison?”
Greg shook his finger at Frankie and smiled again. “Yep. That’s the one. Said Mollie’s missing, poor girl. I wondered why she punked out on me without even calling. It’s so not like her.”
“What else did Detective Jamison say?” Frankie was frustrated. He’d hoped to get to Mollie’s co-workers before Kurt.
“Just asked about who she hung out with. What kind of worker she was. He asked a lot of questions about some poor schmuck who’s been trying to hook up with Mollie lately too.”
“Really? What did you tell him?”
“Told him I have no idea what he’s talking about. If Mollie was having trouble with anyone, it wasn’t anyone here at UD. I think Mollie’s the only straight worker we have on staff.”
Frankie didn’t know what to say to that. Though he tried to keep an open mind about homosexuals, he had been raised a very strict Catholic, and the lifestyle still confused him and made him uncomfortable.
“What else can you tell me about Mollie as an employee?”
“Well, she’s been one of our best sellers since she started. Girl’s got that special something, if you know what I mean. And don’t get me started about…”
Greg’s words faded into an echo. Nothing he was telling Frankie was helpful. He already knew how amazing his granddaughter was. While Greg was an interesting character, he wasn’t helping the least bit.
As Greg droned on animatedly, Frankie nodded occasionally as he scanned his surroundings. He caught a glimpse of a young man standing several yards away, partially hiding behind a perfume display. He was obviously trying to listen in on their conversation without being seen. When their eyes met, the boy froze at first, then bolted to the left, knocking the entire display down in the process. Perfume bottles crashed to the ground, and everyone stopped what they were doing and watched with open mouths and wide eyes as he ran toward the mall entrance, shoving people who stood in his way.
“Rupert! Stanley!” Frankie shouted at his guards. In an instant, the three of them were running into the mall at a sprint, leaving Greg standing there with his hands on his hips and his mouth gaping.
Frankie ran as fast as he could, keeping an eye on the kid as he darted in and out of the crowd of oblivious shoppers. The boy turned down the corridor to the right, and Rupert and Stanley, who were still in their thirties, bolted ahead of Frankie in hot pursuit. His knees weren’t what they were when he’d played high school football, and they ached in protest as he tried his best to keep up with his bodyguards. Frankie accidentally knocked a woman to the ground, but even as the other shoppers shouted after him, he kept running.
Frankie turned right and kept jogging toward the boy, whom he only caught a glimpse of every few seconds. His heart was beating rapidly, and he felt his blood pressure rising. This was the last damn thing he needed in his life, to be chasing some young punk through a crowded mall. He swore when he caught up to him, he’d teach him some manners.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his shirt stuck to his chest as he continued running, then took a left when he saw Rupert and Stanley do the same. When he rounded the corner, he caught sight of the pair just as they were tackling the kid to the ground near the women’s bathroom at the end of an empty hallway. Frankie slowed to a stop and bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He drew in long, deep breaths until he finally felt his heartrate start to stabilize. Ahead of him, Rupert and Stanley were struggling with the young man, who was futilely kicking and demanding they let him go.
Frankie walked up to the melee as his sidekicks pulled the boy to his feet and shoved him up against the wall. Just then, a pretty young woman and her little girl stepped out of the bathroom. Her eyes went wide as saucers and her mouth dropped open. She looked at the boy and then at Frankie and reached into her purse for her cell phone.
Frankie hated to do it, but he pulled his gun out and showed it to the woman. “Get out of here. Forget what you saw. You understand?”
The woman shielded her daughter, but nodded vehemently.
“Good girl. Now, go!”
He gestured for her to leave, and she scuttled away quickly. Frankie knew she’d call the police as soon as she got out of earshot, so he had to act quickly. He turned and faced the punk kid who was pinned against the wall and still struggling for freedom. His shaggy dark hair fell across his forehead and nearly covered his brown eyes. Frankie couldn’t understand why boys these days didn’t know the meaning of a proper haircut.
“Where’s Mollie?” Frankie asked, leaning in so close he could smell the fear emanating from the boy’s pores. “Where’s my granddaughter?”
“I d-don’t know. I s-swear! Let me go!”
Rupert and Stanley were holding him tightly against the wall, but he was still trying to wriggle himself free.
“Calm down, young man,” Frankie said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know where Mollie is. What’s your name, son?”
“Conner,” he said with a quivering chin.
“Okay, Conner. Now, did you do something to my Mollie?”
“No, I swear.” The boy was sweating profusely now. “I l-love her. I w-wouldn’t hurt her!”
“Oh, you love her, do you?” Frankie knew for sure he had the right kid now. The one who’d been harassing Mollie at work and leaving creepy love letters in her locker. “Is that why you’ve been stalking her?”