Sativa Strain Read online

  “Good morning. I take it Jen made it to your house?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I was worried I’d be late, but she walked in the door just in time. I don’t think she appreciates how long it takes to get from her new place to my house.” They climbed the stairs together.

  She does, but I selfishly delayed her, Amanda thought but couldn’t say. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out. Are you and Cy coming to Jen’s for dinner tonight?”

  “Yeah. Pops is really looking forward to it. The surgery hit him hard, and he misses Kristin. All he can talk about is how he used to walk Zane and help Jen and Kristin when they got home from work and daycare. I think he’s getting depressed.”

  “I’m sorry. I know firsthand that recovering from a gunshot wound is harder than you think it will be. Plus, he’s in his seventies. Do you think he needs counseling or maybe a companion? Like a cat or dog?”

  Tommy scratched his unshaven chin. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that. I was just focusing on Jen and Kristin.”

  They exited the stairwell onto Ryan’s floor.

  “I think moving to her own place was an important step toward independence, though, don’t you?” Amanda asked.

  They had reached Ryan’s office, so Tommy didn’t reply.

  “Good morning Tommy, Amanda,” Ryan said, nodding to each. “Thanks for meeting on short notice. I have something confidential I need to discuss with you.” He motioned for them to sit at his conference table while he closed his door. He even took the extra step of flipping the blinds, shutting off visibility from his curious staff.

  Amanda sat next to Tommy, her hands wrapped around her to-go cup. I’m so tired of drinking coffee out of a paper cup with a plastic lid. When Frank gets a new credit card, he can buy me a Thermos from Joe’s Coffee. I want the alabaster one with gold trim...wait. Has Ryan lost weight?

  Ryan sat across from them and leveled a serious look. Amanda thought his usually-sharp brown eyes looked puffy and red. He also had a hint of grey at the temples against his bright, red hair. He’d only been chief for a month, but the stress of the job could quickly age a person.

  “It goes without saying that you need to keep this conversation confidential and just among the three of us. Got it?” he asked.

  Tommy and Amanda nodded, both accustomed to such preambles in their line of work.

  Ryan reached back and grabbed a sheet of paper from his desk. He lowered his reading glasses from his forehead and scanned the complaint, then looked at Tommy and Amanda. “One of the intake officers recorded an interesting complaint yesterday, and his superior had the situational awareness to bring it to my attention. The complaint is from a young man at the software giant, Tyche International. He claims he’s been repeatedly sexually assaulted by the CEO of the company, Kara Montiago.”

  “Kara Montiago, as in the Presidential candidate?” Amanda asked, incredulous.

  “The one and only,” Ryan said.

  “Repeatedly sexually assaulted?” Tommy asked.

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Apparently. This man—her employee—alleges that she forced him to submit to dominatrix sex games for several months in order to keep his job.”

  “That sounds a little farfetched,” Tommy said. “Isn’t she married with kids?”

  “Yes. Her husband’s name is Carlos. They’ve been married over 20 years. They have two children,” Ryan said.

  “Do you know her well?” Amanda asked.

  “We aren’t close, but we’re more than acquaintances. We dated briefly in high school.” Ryan brushed his hand aside, implying very little on that front. “She went to Stanford, and I went to UC Davis, but we’ve stayed in touch over the years. My read on this complaint is that it’s a bullshit political tactic by one of her opponents.”

  “I get that she’s running for President, thus subject to public scrutiny of her every move, but this is so unbelievable,” Amanda said. “Tell me more about the complainant. How old is he?”

  “It says here that he’s 32,” Ryan said, reading from the paper in his hands.

  “What’s his position? How long has he been at her company?” Tommy asked.

  “He climbed the corporate ladder from software engineer to one of the senior product development execs,” Ryan read aloud. “He’s been there a decade—since he graduated from college. Now he’s on the executive team, but alleges he had to participate in her sex games to get there.”

  “Why report it now?” Tommy asked.

  “He’s afraid she’ll become President of the United States, and he thinks she’s mentally unstable,” Ryan read aloud.

  Amanda snorted. “Oh, for God’s sake. If having sex with a younger colleague disqualified you to be President, we never would’ve had one. Men have been doing that for centuries. Moreover, I just can’t see a man repeatedly submitting to a woman’s sexual desire because of a work power-differential. Can you, Tommy?”

  Tommy carefully considered her question, looking from her to Ryan. “I agree this complaint might sound farfetched, but I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibilities. What are we doing to investigate it?”

  “That’s why I’m talking to you. We have a duty to investigate, and I don’t want to be accused of burying it because I’m acquaintances with Kara,” Ryan said. “On the other hand, I’m not gonna be manipulated by some liar who’s getting paid to smear her in a political campaign. Do you think you can discreetly look into it?”

  “Of course,” Tommy said, taking the paper from Ryan and scanning it.

  “What would you like me to do?” Amanda asked, acutely aware that she owed Ryan—big time.

  “Just be apprised for now. Make sure the complaint stays with you and doesn’t get assigned to one of your ADAs,” Ryan said.

  “Done.”

  “Thanks. I knew I could count on you two to do the right thing,” Ryan said.

  “Have you told Kara about this?” Amanda asked.

  “No. I don’t want to upset her. And, telling her would be violating the complainant’s trust in the system. If he made that public, it could come back to bite me in the ass. Bite all of us in our collective ass,” Ryan said, moving his hand in a circle. “I don’t want to tell her unless we absolutely have to. That means you shouldn’t start by talking to her, Tommy.”

  “I wasn’t planning to, but good to know,” Tommy said.

  There was a pause, so Amanda thought now was a good time to raise the Evidence Room matter. “I have an issue that I need to bring to your attention.”

  “Of course,” Ryan said, shoving his glasses back on top of his forehead.

  “My ADAs tell me that evidence is disappearing from the Evidence Room at an alarming rate. We all know this can happen periodically, but Jeremy told me he’s had three files ruined this month because key evidence disappeared.”

  “Shit. What about the security cams?” Ryan asked.

  “I have no idea why they aren’t capturing what’s going on,” she said.

  “Because we have trained professionals who know how to get around them,” Tommy said. “Let me talk to a few guys.”

  “Be my guest. One less thing for me to deal with.” Ryan pushed back from the table and stood, so Tommy and Amanda did too. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No sweat,” Tommy said.

  “Good seeing you,” Amanda said to Ryan, as she followed Tommy out.

  When she and Tommy entered the stairwell, Amanda asked, “Will you keep me in the loop as you investigate this?”

  “Sure. My mind is open to possibilities on this one.”

  “I think I’m less open than you, but go for it.”

  “I just don’t want Ryan and Kara’s friendship to cloud my judgment.”

  “I trust it won’t.”

  Tommy entered his suite, and Amanda returned to her office. Her cell phone rang just as she sat in her chair. It was her father, Jack.

  “Hi Daddy.” She looked at her emails while holding the phone to her ear.

  “H
i Honey. Quick house question. Do you want oil-rubbed bronze drawer pulls to match the cupboard door handles?”

  She thought a minute. “Yes. That sounds nice. As long as I have you on the line, I have a question for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know my security detail, Frank?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s been with me six months now, and he goes above and beyond what SFPD is paying him to do. Like, he runs errands for me, feeds the cat, brings me coffee, and a host of other things. Anyway, I want to pay him a bonus, but I’m not sure how much. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Hmm. Does he work overtime?”

  “Almost every day.”

  “Is he your weekend security as well?”

  “No. Just during the week, but I’m out in the evenings, and now I’m over at Jen’s all the time. I’m sure he’s working 50 hours for me, or at least on standby to drive me somewhere.”

  “In that case, I’d recommend $30,000. What do you think?” he asked.

  “Sounds good to me,” she said. “Can you get that in cash for me?”

  He sighed. “How did I know you were going to ask me to do that?”

  “Well, I would if I had the time, but…”

  “I’ll get it in the next few days.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. When do you think the house will be done?”

  “Soon. We’re down to the finishing work. You should bring Jen over to see it. I think she’ll love it. We transformed this place. Our crews worked day and night, and your mother did a fantastic job selecting everything from sinks to lighting fixtures. You know she has a love affair with Hubbardton Forge, right?”

  Amanda switched her iPhone to speaker and set it on her desk while she typed a reply to an email.

  Jack continued, “The chandelier over the dining room table is a wide linear thing that integrates with the kitchen island lighting. You should see how the theme carries through to the wall sconces and ceiling lights throughout. You need to talk to your mother about this. She’s very excited. Here.”

  Amanda could hear the phone being passed to Chloe.

  “Hi Dear,” Chloe said.

  “Hi Mom. How are the lighting fixtures coming along?” Amanda concentrated on her emails.

  “You’re going to love them. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course. You have much better taste than I do. As long as my yoga/music studio is well-lit, I’ll be happy.”

  “You have me on speaker phone while you’re working, don’t you?” Chloe asked.

  “Yeah. Have to return some emails.” Amanda was impressed that her mother busted her.

  “Okay. Now isn’t the right time for details then. We’ll talk more next time you visit the house.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks Mom.”

  After Amanda clicked off, there was a knock on her open door. She looked up to see Frank. He was holding a square wooden box with a dog figurine on top. “I picked up Zane’s ashes.”

  Amanda stood and rounded her desk. “Thanks, Frank. What do we have here?”

  “I took the liberty of picking out this walnut urn with a retriever on top.” He lifted the lid, and there was a clear plastic bag of ashes inside.

  Amanda studied the urn. While the retriever on top was a handsome golden, it wasn’t a duck toller, Zane’s breed. She couldn’t give Jen a dog that wasn’t a toller. “I really like this design, and the color of the wood, but Zane wasn’t a golden retriever. He was a duck toller. Did the vet carry any duck toller urns?”

  “A duck toller?” Frank asked. “I thought he was a golden.”

  “No. Duck tollers are a newish breed. Here, let me google them for you.” She thumbed in “duck tolling retriever” and pulled up several images.

  “Well. I’ll be damned,” he said, staring at her phone screen. “I see what you mean. Look at the white stripe on their forehead and chest, and white socks on the paws.”

  “Yes. And, a white-tipped tail, too,” she said, looking at the photo with him. “It might be hard to get an urn in this breed, but we have to try. Can you talk to the vet about special-ordering a duck toller figurine?”

  “If they can’t order one, I know someone who could paint the white markings on this golden to make it look like a duck toller.”

  Her expression brightened. “Great idea.” You so earned your bonus with that.

  “In the meantime, why don’t you keep this bag of ashes here, so I don’t lose it.” Frank removed the plastic bag from the urn and set it on Amanda’s small conference table next to a stack of files.

  “Sounds good. Thanks for doing this.” She returned to her desk, and Frank left.

  Chapter 3

  Hall of Justice

  Tommy sat at his desk, a space he found rewarding after working out of a cubicle for almost three years. Ryan had stuffed him in that dog crate with a desk as punishment for quitting the job and disappearing to Hawaii after Jen broke up with him. That was before Kristin was born. Ryan had reassigned Tommy’s office while he was drinking on the beach, and there hadn’t been one available when Tommy had returned. Besides, Ryan had to demonstrate to the other detectives that he wouldn’t show favoritism to his cousin. Tommy had finally earned his way back, though, and he was grateful for his new digs.

  While waiting for his computer to come to life, he texted Jen. Everything go ok with Kristin?

  When she didn’t reply, he focused on the task at hand—learning as much as possible about Kara Montiago and the man who claimed she forced him into submissive sex, Jared Carlisle. Tommy usually delegated this type of information-gathering to a junior detective, but Ryan had insisted that Tommy keep this confidential. So, he was forced to slog through the sea of useless information on the Internet himself.

  In an effort to procrastinate a bit longer, he picked up his desk phone and dialed Lieutenant Navarro, who was not only in charge of all-things-computer at SFPD, but also the building’s surveillance cameras.

  “Navarro here.”

  “Hey. It’s Tommy. I have a question for you.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Are there security cams in the Evidence Room?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why aren’t they picking up evidence that’s being stolen?”

  “Surveillance is only as good as the humans watching it. We don’t sit around and watch live video feed of the Evidence Room. If you can give me a time and date-range when you think something was stolen, I can do a lookback on the video.”

  “I’ve been informed that quite a few things have gone missing over the last month.”

  “It’s probably rats. If someone was stupid enough to tag food as evidence, then I’m not surprised it’s gone. We’ve seen rats more than once on security video around here.”

  “I didn’t ask Amanda what went missing, but I can. Let’s assume humans are taking it rather than rodents.”

  “If it’s one of our own, then there wouldn’t be anything interesting on video. There would just be a uniform removing evidence for court. It would look very ordinary. You’d be better off looking for a mole in the department.”

  “Not my job.”

  “Then get Internal Affairs to look into it.”

  “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

  Tommy scratched his whiskered chin. He hadn’t shaved for several days because he was busy checking on Cy morning and night. He had taken only a five-minute shower that morning, because he didn’t want to be in the shower when Kristin awoke and realized Jen wasn’t there. Fortunately, Kristin had been thrilled to see her daddy, which made his day. As he scratched, he wondered if he should just let his thick, Italian stubble grow into a full-fledged beard.

  Shaking off thoughts about grooming, he returned to gathering information about Mrs. Montiago, first googling her.

  The search revealed photos of an attractive, middle-aged woman, a bit thicker in the face and neck than she had been in her thirties but still in good shape. Her bio on Wikipedia was typical of an
over-achieving narcissist who was running for President. Educated at the best schools, she started her own software company when she was young. From what Tommy could glean, her first marketable product collected and reported data for customer complaints at businesses.

  She sold that company when it was six years old, made a few hundred million, then started an even more successful company that created and sold an electronic medical record for hospitals and clinics. She made a fortune world-wide. Recently, she started the Montiago Foundation that regularly donated money to a variety of charities. She served on a number of boards, including nonprofits, but had recently resigned, so she could run for President. She was named the “Most Powerful Female CEO” by Fortune Magazine five years running. Montiago didn’t have any political experience, but touted that as an asset in her bid for President.

  Looks like she has a social media army, carefully cultivating the perfect public image, Tommy thought. The business halo effect in her Silicon Valley bubble—surrounded by handlers. President of the United States? Why not? Could she be any worse than the one we currently have?

  Tommy next turned his attention to Jared Carlisle. The SFPD database indicated there wasn’t a criminal history—only a speeding ticket. Tommy searched social media. Carlisle’s Facebook page was scarcely populated and outdated. He set up an account but never used it. Or, maybe he stopped using it as he climbed the corporate ranks. Or, if he’s a paid operative, he sanitized it. Nothing on Twitter. Tommy looked up Carlisle on Instagram. His profile wasn’t public. He googled him. Nothing. Unlike his boss, he didn’t have a Wikipedia page.

  Tommy sat back and stretched in his chair. Searching Carlisle’s home flashed through his mind. What am I looking for? Evidence that he’s been paid? Since he’s a techie, he probably has security cams up the wazoo.

  I need to get a handle on this guy. See what he’s all about. Tommy considered visiting Carlisle at his work—Tyche International. Going into the workplace would provide Tommy the ability to observe the surroundings, but Carlisle’s work was also Montiago’s domain, so appearing there would be disastrous to the investigation.