Chapter 27: January Investigation
January 5, 2009 - Afternoon - Coffee Shop, Downtown Sacramento
Sarah Chen looked over her shoulder three times before sitting down.
Former Safe Harbor resident, departed six months ago, now working retail and living in a modest apartment. Lorelei had tracked her through social media, patient detective work that impressed me. Now they sat across from each other in a crowded Starbucks while I monitored from a corner table.
"Thank you for meeting me," Lorelei said.
Sarah fidgeted with her coffee cup. "You said you had questions about Safe Harbor. About Dr. Wagner."
"Did he ever make you uncomfortable?"
"No. He was... helpful. Too helpful, maybe." Sarah glanced around again. "He'd talk to us privately. Ask about our backgrounds, our families, whether we had 'support systems.' If we had people looking for us."
The System activated automatically as I listened.
[ **ANALYZING: SARAH CHEN TESTIMONY** ]
[ **TRUTHFULNESS: 94%** ]
[ **STRESS MARKERS: ELEVATED (FEAR-BASED)** ]
[ **CRITICAL INTEL DETECTED** ]
[ **ENERGY: 67/100** ]
"And the women who didn't have anyone?" Lorelei asked carefully.
"He paid special attention to them. Private sessions, extra counseling. Said he wanted to make sure they weren't falling through cracks." Sarah set down her cup. "Three women I knew there—Michelle, Diana, and Amber—they didn't have family. No one checking on them. And they're just... gone. Patricia says they got housing, but none of them said goodbye. Not even to me."
"Isolated victims. No one to report them missing. Classic predator selection."
"Did you ever see Dr. Wagner with these women outside the shelter?" I asked, approaching their table.
Sarah jumped slightly. Lorelei introduced me: "My boyfriend. He's helping investigate."
"No. But he'd leave the shelter same time they did sometimes. Walking toward parking lot together."
The pieces assembled into a pattern. Wagner identified vulnerable women, gained their trust, isolated them. Then they disappeared during times when records were loose, when Patricia was distracted by holiday closures or staff turnover.
"Thank you," Lorelei said. "This helps."
After Sarah left, we sat in the car processing.
"He's selecting victims based on isolation," Lorelei said. "No family, no support system, no one to ask questions when they vanish."
"And Patricia doesn't realize it because legitimate shelter transitions look similar. Women leave, move on, don't always stay in contact." I started the engine. "Wagner's cover is perfect. He's the helpful psychiatrist everyone trusts."
My phone buzzed. Lisbon.
Lisbon: Major case. Serial burglary ring. Need everyone in tomorrow at 6 AM.
I stared at the text. The timing couldn't be worse—Lorelei was making progress at Safe Harbor, Wagner was on-site regularly, and now CBI demanded my full attention.
"You have to go," Lorelei said, reading my expression.
"I don't want to leave you alone with this."
"I'll be careful. Follow all protocols. And you'll only be a phone call away."
January 7, 2009 - Morning - CBI Headquarters
The burglary case consumed two days.
Sophisticated ring, high-end targets, pattern suggesting inside knowledge. Jane and I worked interviews while Rigsby and Cho handled forensics. By the second day, my focus was fractured—half on the case, half on text updates from Lorelei at Safe Harbor.
Lorelei: Wagner here. Talked with two residents privately. Check-in 1/3.
Lorelei: Patricia mentioned Wagner's been volunteering since 1998. That's 11 years. Check-in 2/3.
Lorelei: Shift ending. Wagner invited me to coffee meeting tomorrow to discuss "challenging volunteer situations." Off-site. Check-in 3/3.
That last message made my blood run cold.
Jane appeared beside my desk. "Your mind's elsewhere."
"Personal situation escalating."
"The girlfriend's investigation." Not a question. "What's happening?"
I made a decision—limited truth. "She's getting close to someone dangerous. I should be monitoring her, but I'm stuck here."
Jane studied me for a long moment. Then: "I can cover you for a few hours if needed. Tell Lisbon you're following up on a lead, I'll handle the interrogations. We're partners."
The offer was unexpected, genuine. Jane bending rules, providing cover, extending trust beyond professional boundaries.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"Don't thank me. Just keep her safe." He returned to his desk. "And when this is over, I want the full story."
"Deal."
January 9, 2009 - Evening - Tedd's Apartment
"This could be a trap."
Lorelei stood in my living room while I fitted the wire—small recording device, barely visible under her sweater, transmitting to a receiver I'd carry.
"Or it could be legitimate," she countered. "Wagner discussing volunteer challenges over coffee."
"At an off-site location. Away from witnesses."
The System provided cold analysis.
[ **ANALYZING: WAGNER'S INVITATION** ]
[ **TRAP PROBABILITY: 78%** ]
[ **ISOLATION ATTEMPT: CONFIRMED** ]
[ **DANGER LEVEL: EXTREME** ]
[ **RECOMMEND: DECLINE MEETING** ]
[ **ALTERNATIVE: CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENT CONFRONTATION** ]
[ **ENERGY: 61/100** ]
"We're not declining," I said. "We're turning it around. You wear the wire, I'm one block away with engine running. If he reveals anything incriminating, we have evidence. If he's legitimate, no harm done."
"And if he's dangerous?"
"Then you use the panic button and I'm there in thirty seconds."
We'd rehearsed the safety signals—subtle phrases that meant extraction needed. "I should get going" meant uncomfortable but manageable. "I need to leave" meant active threat. Panic button was for immediate danger.
Lorelei tested the wire, voice coming clear through my earpiece. "Can you hear me?"
"Perfectly."
She moved closer, wrapping arms around my waist. "I'm scared."
"Me too."
"But we're doing this anyway."
"Together."
We stood like that for several minutes, neither wanting to acknowledge what tomorrow might bring. The System provided unwelcome statistics.
[ **HIGH-RISK OPERATION: COMMENCING IN 12 HOURS** ]
[ **SUCCESS PROBABILITY: 64%** ]
[ **INJURY PROBABILITY: 31%** ]
[ **FATALITY PROBABILITY: 5%** ]
[ **RECOMMEND: ABORT MISSION** ]
Five percent chance of fatality. Low odds, but not zero. And thirty-one percent injury risk meant nearly one-in-three chance Lorelei got hurt.
"Those odds are too high. But she won't back down, and pulling her out now means losing everything we've built."
"Promise me something," I said.
"Anything."
"If it feels wrong—even slightly wrong—you leave immediately. Investigation doesn't matter, evidence doesn't matter. Your safety is the only priority."
"I promise."
We went to bed early but sleep came late. Lorelei dozed eventually, but I lay awake, watching her breathe, memorizing the moment. Tomorrow would change everything.
One way or another.
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