Preservation

by Charles Lemoine

  She couldn’t have agreed more but hated his tone. Glaring, she said, “Whatever you say. Now, the non-arresting officer said you requested I come down to the station. You know, while he was dragging me to my feet.”

  “He was helping you to your feet.” This time his tone was markedly different—kind, caring. His eyes were soft around the edges and his brow furrowed with worry.

  “I guess they were doing their jobs.” She shrugged and let out a deep sigh. “I’m tired.”

  He nodded and reached across the desk and put a calming hand on hers. “You’ve had a rough night.”

  She nodded. “Please tell me you have something important to share with me? Or did you just want to see me again?” Their eyes locked for an intense moment sending butterflies fluttering in her belly when he didn’t look away. She slid her hand out from under his and ran it through her mussed hair.

  She made a grand gesture of looking around the room, pausing to watch the woman being subdued on the floor against the far wall, screaming and kicking. The woman had the officer’s pant leg in her mouth, and she didn’t appear to want to let go of it. Turning back to Detective Wulf, Mariska arched her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly to the side. “A coffee shop would have been better atmosphere for a first date…if you were going for that sort of thing.” She smiled behind her hand and looked away.

  “You’re sassy this time of night,” Wulf said. “We need to take your report. Not to mention, I have been researching the SUV that ran you off Mulholland Drive.”

  “Oh?” Mariska sat up a little straighter in the chair. “Do you have a lead?”

  “Sort of. We had a couple leads, but they haven’t panned out yet. I took the image of the vehicle you took with your cell phone. I copied it to a digital enhancement program and sent it over to the CSI team. Even after being tweaked, enlarged, and ran through a predictive program that fills in the grainy portions of the image, it still isn’t NASA quality by any means.”

  “But…” Mariska started to say.

  “But we were able to determine the make and model of the SUV.”

  “That’s great.” She waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t. “Isn’t it good?”

  “It’s not a smoking gun if that’s what you’re asking.” He sat back in the chair and rubbed his brow. “There are virtually thousands of vehicles registered locally that meet that description, let alone in the surrounding area. At this point, there wasn’t much to narrow down the search.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, we have absolutely nothing.” Mariska crossed her arms and looked away. “Great.”

  “I do have these.” Wulf flopped a large book onto the desk in front of her.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Mug shots.” He sat back in the chair, resting his hands behind his head. “I compiled them based on some scumbag assholes that have committed similar crimes and are currently at large.”

  Mariska sat up straight and leaned in to take a better look. She opened the book of photos. She was immediately struck by the gravity of the situation. Here she was, the daughter of a rich and powerful family, and yet sat in the police station in the middle of the night flipping through a book of mug shots. God, how grateful she was her parents weren’t there to witness this.

  “Take a good look at these guys,” Wulf said. “I’m curious if anyone’s familiar to you.”

  “Why would they? I didn’t get a good look at the people that ran me off the road—and like I told the officers at my apartment, it was too dark to make out a face. All I know was the guy was big. Really big.” Mariska flipped the page to the next set of photographs. It seemed like each subsequent page, the men got scarier and meaner looking.

  “I know that. But it’s possible one of these guys will jump out at you. Maybe, you crossed paths at the grocery store, coffee shop, or on a tour at the museum?”

  She shot him a skeptical look.

  “Hey, anything is possible.” He put his hands up in defense. “I’ve seen a case solved when the victim identified the bad guy from one of these books. He just so happened to be the man that jogged past her house every day when she left for work.”

  “Really?” Mariska said.

  “Really.”

  She continued to flip through each page, scrutinizing each image. She even occasionally closed her eyes to try and picture where she might have seen some of these goons. Nothing stood out to her. Mariska turned the last page and sat back in the chair. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I figured it was worth a try. No harm, no foul, right?”

  “I guess.” She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, smoothing it out. “I wish I could be of more help. Things seem to be getting worse. Theresa and I were followed.”

  “Theresa?”

  “My student intern at the museum.”

  Wulf nodded. “I haven’t had time to read the full report. Please, go on.”

  “I asked Theresa to take me to the library this evening to do a little research on the La Brea Woman. When we were getting ready to leave, the librarian said a man came in looking for two women that met our description.”

  “Did you see this man?”

  “No, Peggy told him we weren’t there. She must have thought it strange that he was looking for us.”

  “Peggy?” Wulf sat up and started looking something up in the computer.

  “Oh, yeah. She’s the librarian. Sorry, I get ahead of myself sometimes when I’m telling a story.”

  “No, it’s not that.” He continued to type and sporadically use the mouse to navigate whatever he was operating on the computer. “Peggy Peterson-Paulson?”

  “That sounds right.”

  “Was…what her last name was.” Wulf cleared his throat and sat back in the chair. “Peggy Peterson-Paulson, fifty-nine-year-old Caucasian female, brown hair, and brown eyes?”

  “Yes?” Mariska’s heart began to race. “What’s going on?”

  “She was found dead tonight in the parking garage at the L.A. City Library.”

  “Dead?”

  “Murdered would be my guess. Even though it can’t be ruled as anything other than suspicious until the coroner determines cause of death. But by the look of that ligature mark around her neck, I’d say she was murdered.”

  Mariska reached for the computer monitor to angle it toward her so she could see the image he was referring to. Wulf was just quick enough to prevent it. “You don’t want to see that. Trust me.”

  She stood, wanted to yell. Wanted to run away. The room seemed to close in, but at the same time spin out of control. Mariska clutched at her chest. Why couldn’t she breathe? She took a step but started to stumble forward.

  “Oh shit,” Wulf said, jumping up from the desk. “Here, have a seat. I’ll get you some water.” He held her by both arms and assisted her back into the chair. A few seconds later he returned with a paper cup filled with cold water.

  She took a sip and handed back the cup. Leaning forward, she brought her head down into her hands. Breathe in, breath out, and repeat. When she opened her eyes, she was relieved to see it had stopped spinning.

  Wulf, squatted low beside her chair. She turned to face him. His expression was full of compassion and kindness. His brow was furrowed and his eyes, soft with concern. All she really wanted was a hug. Mariska closed her eyes for a moment. A sudden familiarity struck her. Did she know this man from somewhere? When she reopened her eyes, the feeling vanished.

  “Mariska…Mariska,” her mother, rushed to her side and immediately wrapped her in an embrace. “Are you, all right, baby? Look at me, honey.”

  Leah had Mariska’s face in her hands, and she kissed her daughter on the forehead.

  “Mom, what are you doing here? Where’s Dad?”

  “I’m here,” Robert said.

  Mariska turned and saw her father. He stood with his arms crossed. His face pinched with emotion.

  “I called them,” Wulf said.

&nb
sp; She glared at him, “Why would you do that?”

  “I asked him to,” Robert said as he stepped up alongside his wife.

  Mariska stood and gave her dad a hug. His strong arms wrapped around her in a protective shield that she sometimes wished would last forever.

  “Your dad asked me to contact him if I ever hear of an incident…you know, involving you.” Wulf stepped around the desk and offered a handshake to both of her parents. By the way her mom took his hand into both of hers, Mariska could tell how much it meant to them. Knowing they had someone on the inside, keeping an eye on their daughter.

  Robert took her by the elbow and led her away from where her mother was talking with the detective. He squared up with her, looked into her eyes, and said, “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?” Mariska said.

  “Are you pursuing this…this, insane notion that you have to solve this crime? That you have to find the La Brea Woman?”

  “Insane?” Mariska took a step back. “How dare—”

  “No,” Robert said, his voice harsh and breathy. He stepped closer. “How dare you? How dare you put your mother, and me for that matter, through this?”

  “I’m not doing any of this to you on purpose.” Where the hell was this coming from? She was the one attacked and nearly killed…more than once. She took a deep breath. “I understand you’re upset.”

  “You’re damn right I’m upset. My only daughter, the little girl who we cherished from the moment we set eyes on her, is putting herself in danger. And, for what? For some stupid bones that no one really cares about? No one even knows anything about her. Not really.” He shook his head and looked away.

  His words struck her as hard as a punch to the face. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She cleared her throat. The emotion threatened to take control of her words, and she fought hard to reign it in. “Kind of like me.”

  “Excuse me?” His hard expression softened and then turned to concern as his own words sank in.

  “No one cared about me, either. Thrown away like a piece of trash in the parking lot.” She pulled her hand away when he tried to reach for her. “I wonder if my mom felt a sense of relief. Squatting behind the dumpster like a dog, pushing me out of her onto the cold concrete floor. I’m surprised she even bothered to throw me away. Why not just leave me there? Didn’t want to litter?”

  “Mariska,” Robert said and grabbed her up into an embrace. “She wasn’t your mom. Your mom is the one standing over there worried sick about you. She cries herself to sleep at night, thinking that you’re in danger…that you might not be…” His words trailed off for a moment. He pulled her way to look her in the eyes. “I don’t know how much more she can take of this. I’m sorry for what I said before, but truth be told, there is some truth to it. You mean more to us than the La Brea Woman.”

  “I know,” Mariska said. “And, please believe me when I say that I am so sorry that I have upset you both. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. “Your mother and I will support you in any way we can. But we won’t help you get killed.”

  “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, that your mother and I love you very much. But I have to look out for your mom’s best interests as well. I won’t allow you to hurt her. I won’t allow you to put yourself in more danger.”

  Mariska’s anger began to grow. “Allow? I’m not one of your gardeners.”

  “Indeed.” He turned to walk back to his wife and the detective. “Just be careful, Mariska.”

  She followed him. Leah turned to them, searching their faces for any indication of what transpired in their private conversation. Mariska saw her father’s face take on the CEO façade. “Everything is good here,” he said, taking Leah’s hand in his.

  Leah looked at Mariska for confirmation. Mariska nodded with a smile. They hugged, and soon her father joined the family embrace.

  “The nice detective filled me in on what happened to your apartment,” Leah said.

  Mariska nodded, “Yeah, it’s a total mess. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  “Nonsense,” Leah said. “We’ll hire a cleaning company. I’ll have them remove all the broken things, and you and I will go shopping for new. All, new.”

  “I don’t need all that. Maybe a nice cleanup and then we can go shopping for some new things for you and Dad?”

  “Honey, didn’t you already get Mariska some new bedroom things?” Robert said.

  “I did.” She smiled. “I’m going to have Jane bring some of them over in a couple days. Let’s get that mess cleaned up first.”

  Robert offered the detective another handshake. “I want to thank you again for all your help.”

  “Any time.” Wulf nodded.

  “If there isn’t anything else, I think we’ll take our daughter home,” Robert said.

  Wulf shook his head. “Nothing more tonight.”

  “If it’s all right with you guys, Detective Wulf offered to take me home,” Mariska said, giving him a knowing look.

  Wulf looked from her to Robert and Leah, and then back to Mariska.

  “Plus, he says he wanted to check out the apartment one last time when he drops me off. You know, make sure there aren’t any bad guys or monsters hiding under the bed.” Mariska gave Wulf a friendly slug to the arm.

  “Is that right, detective?” Leah asked.

  “You bet. I’ll make sure the apartment is secure before I leave.”

  Despite the flippant way she’d made the suggestion, it would put her more at ease to have him make a sweep of the apartment before leaving. She gave her parents a hug goodbye and followed the detective to his vehicle. It too was a large dark colored SUV. Did everyone in this city drive a gas guzzling vehicle similar to the guy trying to kill her?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After an off-handed comment about on the ride home about pancakes, Mariska found herself sitting in an all-night diner. The Greasy Spoon, or something…maybe Greasy Floor would have been more accurate, although far less appetizing. The torn vinyl seats, graffiti-covered tables, and less-than-clean silverware accentuated the absurdity of the establishment.

  “This is the best place you could come up with?” Mariska asked.

  Wulf feigned hurt feelings and tucked the paper napkin into his shirt. “What? This place is awesome.”

  “Awesome?”

  “Oh, you’re too snobby to appreciate a place like this,” Wulf said. “I see things never change.” He smiled but looked away.

  Snobby? What the hell was he talking about? Again, a sense of familiarity struck her. His gaze settled on her and she felt her tummy flip-flop. The little butterflies inside her were getting excited, despite the fact she didn’t want them to. “And for the record, I’m not snobby. I just prefer to eat at places I’m not going to catch an intestinal parasite.”

  He laughed. “We’ve already ordered coffee.”

  “Okay, we can stay, but I’m not sure I want to order anything to eat.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll order some pancakes. We can split them. If you don’t like them…I can finish the entire plate.” He patted his stomach. She heard the rock-hard thump of tight abdominal muscle. Didn’t see the slightest bit of jiggle. And found herself wondering what was underneath his shirt.

  She felt his eyes upon her once again. Face flushed and hot, she tore her attention away from his midsection. “So, tell me, what got you into law enforcement?”

  “Long story, short…my dad was a cop, his dad was a cop. I kind of always felt like I was destined to become one too.”

  “That’s great. I bet your family is very proud of you.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while. He took a sip of coffee and put the mug down on the table. “My mom hates me being a cop. My dad, he’s dead. Killed on the job.”

  “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Mariska reached for his hand
but pulled back almost immediately. Tucking her hands into her lap, she fidgeted with her shirt. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful family memories. I really am sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said.

  The waitress came by and refilled his coffee. Enough of a distraction to allow her to change the subject. Hopefully, to something more pleasant. When the woman walked away, Mariska was about to say something, but Wulf started to slide out from behind the booth.

  “Gonna hit the head.” He stood went toward the back of the diner.

  Mariska leaned forward, resting her head on her arms, and closed her eyes. No sooner did she do this when she felt the table rock gently as he sat back down opposite her.

  “That was quick,” she said as she lifted her head.

  Sitting across from her was not Wulf. It was a very large man, white, dark hair, brown eyes, and a five-o’clock shadow. His shoulders were wide and well-muscled, and his jaw was set, angry…no, determined.

  Her initial surprise turned to fear as she realized, this man could have been the intruder in her apartment. While she hadn’t seen his face, this guy’s build was similar. Huge. She tried to slide out of the booth, but the man’s hand clamped down on her wrist and squeezed. Hard. Mariska pulled but didn’t even budge him. He squeezed harder, and her hand started to pulse with the pressure of the trapped blood, his fingers a virtual tourniquet.

  She tried to stand, as she continued to struggle. Looking around the diner, she realized the place was deserted. Where the hell was Wulf? She took in a large breath, prepared to scream when he said, “Shut your fucking mouth.” He squeezed even harder. How was that even possible? The pain in her wrist grew exponentially. Fingers going numb, but wrist bones moving under the pressure of his grasp sent shooting pains up her arm.

  Her breathing grew rapid under the pain. “What do you want from me?”

  “I’ve come to collect.” His voice was deep and menacing. The man’s eyes narrowed and bored holes through her. The intensity scared her. This man wasn’t angry. He wasn’t emotionally invested in what he was doing to her. What truly scared her was she could see in his eyes her life didn’t matter. What happened to her, meant absolutely nothing to him.