“Let’s get him,” she said.
Lancaster laid out his plan of attack and explained each of their roles. There were no questions, and he rose from the table and placed his napkin on his spot.
“Is Team Pearl ready?” he asked.
They said yes. He slid away from the table and headed toward the lavatories on the other side of the dining room. His journey took him past Gel Head, who still hadn’t touched his food. A cell phone lay on the bar playing a video. As he passed, Gel Head flipped the cell phone facedown, hiding the screen.
There was no stronger instinct than survival. Nicki’s stalkers’ attraction to their prey was only surpassed by their desire not to get caught. He turned a corner and came to the restrooms. He waited for a customer to come out, and used him as a shield to walk to the front of the restaurant. Reaching the hostess stand, he spun around. Gel Head was still at the bar, his eyes focused on Nicki in the mirror.
The Pearls were watching him. He made the “okay” sign with his fingers.
Melanie and her husband rose from their chairs. Nolan moved in front of the table, creating a shield in front of Nicki. His hand was in his pocket, touching the handle of the gun. He looked ready for trouble.
Melanie brushed past him and came up behind Gel Head. She forcefully tapped his shoulder, and Gel Head turned to stone and stared at the reflection in the mirror. Melanie tore into him, her voice angry enough to cut through the other diners’ conversations.
“You sick bastard! You’ve been staring at my daughter for the last ten minutes. Don’t pretend we didn’t see you!”
Gel Head picked up his cell phone and made it disappear into his pocket. He threw money on the bar for his food and hopped off his stool.
“Running away, are you? You coward!”
Gel Head had been confronted before and knew the drill. Walk away and don’t say a word. Feeling empowered, Melanie wagged a finger in his face. “My husband took a photo of you on his cell phone. We’re going to show it to the police, and file a complaint.”
Conversation in the restaurant had stopped. Every diner was watching the scene unfold. Gel Head turned his back and headed for the exit. Melanie kept the barbs coming. “You’re a pervert! She’s only fifteen years old.”
Gel Head picked up his pace, desperate to get away.
“Did you hear what I said? She’s fifteen years old!”
Lancaster went outside to wait on the sidewalk. Melanie’s threats were nothing more than an angry mother venting. Gel Head hadn’t done anything that warranted the police arresting him, and Lancaster needed to be careful in how he handled this.
Gel Head exited the restaurant. Lancaster tried to block his path, and their bodies collided. Gel Head was rock solid, and Lancaster fell backward into the gutter. So much for the nice guy approach. He jumped to his feet and gave chase.
“Wait! I need to talk to you!”
Gel Head was running hard. Reaching the public lot on the south side of Las Olas, he jumped into a black Lexus and was backing out when Lancaster caught up.
“I just want to talk!”
The Lexus nearly ran him over. It was an LC 500, which ran a hundred grand with all the bells and whistles. He memorized the license plate and hobbled back to the restaurant. He called Devon at DMV and caught his friend at his desk, eating lunch.
“Hey, Jon, what’s shaking?” Devon asked.
“Any luck on the license plate I sent you?”
“It belonged to a dead guy.”
“Crap. I need you to check another plate for me. Same terms as before.”
“I’m game. Fire away.”
He recited the Lexus’s license plate to Devon. His phone vibrated, and he checked the screen. Pearl was calling to check up on him. He switched calls and said, “Eat your lunch, I’ll be right in. Tell your wife she’s a star.” He hung up and resumed speaking to Devon. “Any hits?”
“You’re in luck this time,” Devon said. “The car is registered to a dude named Zack Kenny from Lauderdale. I’ve got his address, date of birth, and social security number, in case you’re interested.”
“Lay it on me,” he said.
Chapter 13
Restraining Order
The Pearls awaited him at their table. Their lunches had been served and were untouched. He pulled up a chair and sipped his cold coffee. The profile of Nicki’s stalkers had just expanded to include a man who made enough money to drive a luxury sports car that 99 percent of the population couldn’t afford. It was in sharp contrast to the Hispanic in the pickup and the Canadian tourist with bad teeth.
“Please eat,” he said.
“Did you get him?” Melanie asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I know who he is, which is enough to get me started. You guys did a great job getting him out of the restaurant.”
“Thanks,” Melanie said. “The manager came over afterward, and asked us if everything was all right. Nolan explained the situation, so we’re good.”
“Is that blood on your knuckle?” Nicki asked.
“It’s just a scrape,” he said.
“Did you fight him?”
“Not really. He knocked me to the sidewalk and ran to his car.”
“Why didn’t you punch his lights out? He’s a sicko.”
“I can’t prove that, Nicki. If I hit him, it would be grounds for the police to arrest me, and we don’t want that happening. But I have his name and some other personal information courtesy of my friend at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Would you like to help me track him down?”
Nicki’s face lit up. “You bet I would. When can we start?”
“Right now.”
Her parents weren’t as excited. Pearl said, “Jon, we’re not keen on using Nicki as bait again. It’s too risky.”
“I just want Nicki to help me do some cybersleuthing and get a bead on this guy. She won’t be put in harm’s way.”
“Maybe if we find him I can get extra credit with my CSI class,” Nicki said.
Pearl and his wife exchanged glances. Melanie nodded she was okay with this.
“Very well, go ahead,” Pearl said.
“Okay, Nicki, pick your weapon. Cell phone or iPad,” he said.
“iPad,” Nicki said.
“Pull it out, and let’s get started.”
Nicki’s purse was slung over the back of her chair. She pulled out her iPad and made a space on the table in front of her. It was an iPad mini and the size of a paperback book with a hot pink cover. She tried to get on the internet and frowned.
“I need a password to get on the restaurant’s Wi-Fi,” she said.
He waved down a waitress and got the password. Nicki connected her device to the internet and said, “Where do you want me to go?”
“Broward County Clerk of Courts. Just type it into Google. When it comes up, you’ll have a list of options. Click on ‘case search.’” While Nicki typed away, he explained to her parents how he planned to track down Zack Kenny. “About ten years ago, the Florida Supreme Court directed every county in the state to provide electronic viewing for most court records. I’m going to have Nicki find how many court cases Kenny has, which should give us some insights into his motive.”
“How do you know for certain that Kenny has a record?” Pearl asked.
“I’ve never met a deviant that didn’t have brushes with the law,” he replied. “They’re damaged people who can’t avoid trouble.”
“I’m on the county clerk’s page. It’s asking me for last name and first name,” Nicki said.
“Type in the name ‘Zack Kenny,’ and make sure you click on the box that says you’re not a robot,” he said.
“Done. It’s loading. Boy, this site is slow.”
Slow was in the eye of the beholder. In the old days, he would have paid a visit to the courthouse and spent an entire afternoon pulling up records. Now, he just went to the site and typed in a few commands to get what he wanted.