by R. T. Wolfe
Eddy folded his hands behind his head. "Give him food and a dozen more show up."
She couldn't believe he said that and kicked the crossed leg to the ground.
"Just sayin'. I tried it. That's what happens. And our friend is inside."
He had been feeding the homeless?
Parker. She turned and looked through the window in the back door that led to the kitchen.
He sat on a matching lawn chair. She could see him through the window. The earbuds were becoming a permanent fixture. His hands were folded on his lap and his legs crossed at the ankles.
Turning back to Eddy, she said, "The generator is working. There is air conditioning. Why are you out here in the heat?"
"Because he's in there."
"Blake," she said and dipped her chin. She needed a moment to grind her teeth in peace. "I need to speak with my friend here." She dipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out a business card. "This is my card. I want you to call me at this time tomorrow. Can you do that?"
He nodded and took it.
"Thank you." She pulled out her cell. "And say, cheese." She took his picture and saved it in her photos.
He slunk away in the heat to the alley behind the garage.
Eddy said, "I talked to the captain."
The captain. She closed her eyes. How long had Eddy been helping her out?
"He said, and I quote, 'This shit happened in my house.'" His imitation of Dave was spot on. How could he make her smile at a time like this? "You are officially," said the fake Captain Nolan, "unofficially staying with the witness until this is over with. Feds be damned. If you ask me," Eddy added in his Eddy voice, "the captain likes defying them, even if Hurst is on board with this crazy train."
He leaned to the side and looked around her. "I thought you said you had Slippery Slimeball Jimbo with you."
"I told him to wait in the car."
Swinging his legs around, Eddy popped to his feet. "Get him out. You're on babysitting duty. I'm going to town."
Her shoulders fell forward. "I sort of need to go. There's a place I have to visit."
"Oh hell." He sat back down, crossed his legs again and swiped open his phone.
"And I sort of need to go alone."
His chin turned slowly to face her as he realized she was leaving Jimbo with him.
"You can go all night when I get back," she said. "I swear. I'll take watch and keep the slimeball. The store closes in an hour, and I need to talk to this someone I know."
"You mean that cranky woman at the convenience store?" He rolled his eyes.
"You have no idea," she mumbled as she made her way to get said slimeball out of the car. He was watching for her. She motioned for him to get out.
"Detective Lynx, dude," he said as he walked to the back of the house. "What's new, man?"
"New? I got a new checking account," Eddy said without taking his nose from whatever he was doing on his phone. "That's what's new."
"Sah-wheet, dude."
Nickie saw it coming. Jimbo had no idea.
"I got a free toaster made for the bathtub," Eddy said. "It's all for you, man."
* * *
She drove down the only strip of road that had any kind of goods or services. The trip wasn't just to talk to the woman Nickie remembered as Janet. She needed grub for dinner and breakfast, and she kinda had to pee. It wasn't like she could go in a bush like the guys.
She sent the pic to her captain. He would check up on the young runaway who claimed to be Blake. A run through CODIS and NCIC would help with identifying him. It reminded her to send a pic of Parker to Hurst. It was an old one. That was cheating, but it wasn't like Parker was dead and she was lying.
Henderson was a bigger city, but this was an outskirt of the outskirts. Sidewalks crumbled. Paint eroded from the lampposts and few people were out in the midday heat.
As the tires of the rental rolled over tiny pieces of concrete, she looked through the open garage door of the only auto shop. A man leaned under a hood as another lay on his back beneath one of the dozen cars in the place. On the other side of the road, she spotted two men through the dirty windows of the barbershop. One sat in the chair and the other worked buzzers over his head.
Pulling up to her destination, she noted the closed sign. The overhead lights were on as well as the ones in the coolers along the side. She shifted the rental into park and turned off the engine. As she craned her head, she noticed the woman she was here to see. Young and plump with long, dark hair. It was Janet. Nickie couldn't recall her last name or if Janet had ever offered it.
They'd made a connection the two times Nickie had been here before. Janet held Nickie on a pedestal she didn't feel she earned, but a pedestal nonetheless. "My child plays in the streets because of you," she'd said. Her child was a pre-adolescent girl who had been hidden for the months Fu Haizi had embedded itself in this town.
Nickie got out of the car, left it unlocked and wandered in. The lines on the woman's face had deepened, if that was possible. For having a pre-adolescent daughter, she looked more like she was in her sixties.
Is that what having children did to a person? Of course not. Nickie knew plenty of moms who looked much younger than their age.
The bell that hung over the door jingled as Nickie walked in. Janet didn't turn to investigate or greet her customer but turned her back to Nickie and her attention to the counter behind her.
She began doubting her vision. The woman might not be who she thought, so she picked up a worn plastic basket and loaded it with bread and peanut butter and gallon jug of water.
Since they were the only two in the place and they weren't in Manhattan, Nickie said, "Hello," as she dropped some instant coffee in the basket.
The woman glanced over her shoulder. If it wasn't Janet, it was an older sister or relative. She paused before shuffling to the back.
"Come," the woman said and disappeared to the right where Nickie remembered the break room was located.
She found herself in this kind of predicament often lately. Deserted shop. Closed sign on the door. No backup. Should she just go on back and have a sit down with a woman she wasn't sure she knew?
She set the basket on the counter near the cash register. Resting her hand over her Smith and Wesson, she walked around it and through the back door.
The woman sat at a round table to the side of the back room. It was her. Nickie was sure of it. What had happened to her? "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked as she took a cautious step toward her.
In contrast to her shaking head, Janet answered, "She's gone."
Her daughter. The feisty young girl with ideas and confidence. Nickie had to grip the edge of the counter that dug into her side. Her head spun with possibilities. Fu Haizi wouldn't dare come back here. They'd been made in Henderson. There were plenty of other places to abduct and keep children.
Her mind pieced together possibilities. The Belmont Stakes. Their numbers had been depleted. They had a huge gig in less than two weeks and their numbers had been depleted.
"Janet."
"Do not say my name. She is gone. Do you understand?"
Nickie put her hand on her shoulder. The woman jerked it away. Regardless, Nickie said quietly, "I am so very sorry. I am going to do everything—"
"Do not," Janet repeated. "I do not want to hear these things."
"I need to know," Nickie said apologetically. "When did this happen?"
"Last week," Janet mumbled.
And for the question she really didn't want to ask, "Are there others?"
The woman nodded, her face empty of light. "Many." She placed her face in her hands and cried until her shoulders shook.
* * *
Nickie sat in her rental in front of the closed convenience store and dialed her partner's number.
"You get my soda?" he asked as he answered.
"Not yet, no. Is everything okay there? Parker is good?" You weren't ambushed by a team of Fu Haizi?
"Sinc
e fifteen minutes ago when you left? I killed Slippery Jimbo. I hope that's okay."
"And Parker? Can you still see him?"
The phone rustled, then Eddy said, "Still listening to his stupid... wait. Shit."
"Eddy? Eddy!" She cranked the ignition, shoved it into drive and sped down the road, oblivious to the shouting she earned from the residents. She redialed Eddy's number three times, then broke down and called Jimbo.
"Detective," he said as he answered.
No Detective Dude. That was bad. "What's going on? I'm almost there."
"I do not know. Eddy made me wait by the garage. It's okay. I pulled his chair back here."
"What. Is. Happening, Jimbo?" she yelled as she fishtailed around the corner to the neighborhood.
"I can't see from here. Eddy ran into the house. The back door is open. I don't know, man. It's quiet."
"Go to the door."
"What!"
"You don't have to get close. Just go to the door and tell me what's going on in the kitchen. Hurry up."
"Okay, okay," he said like a junior high boy.
She could hear the crunching of the gravel beneath his feet. He wasn't walking fast enough.
"So, okay. Yeah. I see Eddy. He's standing in front of the prisoner."
She slowed down for some teenagers on bikes. "Is there anyone else there?"
"No, not that I can see. Oh, fuck me."
She heard the distinct sound of the phone dropping to the ground, so she gunned the engine after the bikers passed. She was dialing him again when her phone rang. Caller ID said it was Jimbo.
"Jimbo. Are you hurt?"
"I'm a dead man," Jimbo said as he answered.
"I'm almost there. Are you hurt?" she repeated.
"I'm gonna be. He spotted me."
"Who spotted you?"
"Who do you think, Detective Dude? Eddy. Eddy spotted me."
Her left eyelid twitched.
"He told me to wait by the garage, and he spotted me. He's going to kill me with his toaster. I'm never taking a bath again."
She slowed a block before the witness protection site. "What is Eddy doing? What is the prisoner doing?"
"No way. I am sitting my butt next to the garage. Did you get some grub? I'm starving. Is there any liquor in that there house?"
She clicked off and tossed the phone in the passenger seat. She had her door open before she shifted into park. Jimbo waved from his spot on the lawn chair in back. She ignored him.
Something made her pause at the back door before she went in. Eddy was on his knees next to him. Parker's feet were no longer crossed and the arm closest to the back door hung on the floor next to the lawn chair.
She gave herself a short moment, only long enough to exhale. She rested her forehead on the back door and closed her eyes. Inhaling, she turned the knob and walked in.
Chapter 25
"He was fine a few hours ago," Eddy said without turning to look at her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Nickie stepped over the body and checked for a bullet, foaming at the mouth or bruises around his neck. Anything. Something wasn't right, but hell if she could tell. His skin was cherry red.
Folding both hands on the top of his head, Eddy paced and said, "I'm sorry, Nick. I'm really sorry."
He'd been working 24/7. The captain would say for the department, but it was really for her. And after she'd fallen for the scheme that pointed to him as a department mole. "You're a good cop, Lynx. We'll figure something out."
"Like what? He was the only witness. He was key."
"And they knew that. It's not safe here."
Jimbo. She ran out the back. He still sat on the lawn chair playing with his phone. Upright. Not with earbuds in his ears. "Get your ass in here, Jimbo."
Without taking his eyes from her, he slowly turned his chin away.
"Now!"
He jumped to his feet and scurried to the house.
She took out her phone and swiped it open.
Eddy put a hand on the screen.
"What?" she asked.
"Let's talk about this before you call Hurst."
"Oh hell. I'm not calling Hurst. I'm calling Duncan's pilot to see how fast he can get here so we can get the body back to NPD."
* * *
Nickie sat at the edge of the loveseat on Duncan's plane. Eddy was next to her, scooted to the front edge of the recliner. Since everything was screwed to the floor, they couldn't get close enough for a private discussion.
"What the crazy shit is this?" Jimbo squealed like a happy girl from the back. He'd already sifted through most of the plane.
They were flying with a dead body on ice in the luggage compartment. She was going to jail, to detective jail and possibly divorce court over this.
"I have no freaking idea how to break this to Hurst."
"Yeah," Eddy said.
"He's gonna renege on his offer to search the grave site."
"Yeah."
"He's got the deets on the July 2nd locations. He might just take me out of the equation. He could do that."
"Yeah."
She frowned at him. "How is that helping?"
He shrugged.
"We both might be put away for abducting Parker and killing him."
"You might want to keep an eye on your informant over there."
She turned and found Slippery Jimbo living up to his name. He slipped two whiskey glasses into the pockets of his trench coat.
"Put those back or I break your arms."
He pulled the glasses out and set them gently back on the bar. "Heh," he laughed. "I thought those were complimentary."
"When we land," Eddy said as he scrolled through his phone, "we can have security go through his luggage, pat him down and do a cavity search." It was the first time she'd seen a smile on Eddy's face since... since she didn't know when.
Jimbo stuck a finger in his mouth and pulled his cheek out. "I ain't got no cavities."
Eddy lowered his voice. "You gonna call Hurst?"
She shook her head.
"Chicken."
She had called the captain and messaged Duncan. That was good enough for now.
Parker is dead. Using your pilot and your plane to transport body to Northridge.
It was as good as any love note.
"I want to see what the ME says first," she said to Eddy.
He tipped his phone away and looked at her. "What are you going to say to Rickard when you drop a former NPD officer onto his table in the lab?"
"Captain says Rickard owes me. He's on board." She hoped.
* * *
Her captain waited on the gravel in the dark staff parking lot. He held up a hand as they entered. Nickie pulled up next to him in her ancient Cadillac Eldorado and rolled down the window.
Jimbo spoke to him from the backseat. "Just for the record, I'm in the back because there was no room in the front seat. I repeat. I am not in trouble."
Dave spoke like he hadn't heard him. "In the garage. Back up the car to the staff basement entrance."
They were all going to cop Hell because of her.
She did as he said, then got out and walked around to the trunk. Dave and Eddy stared at Jimbo. Awkward silence. More awkward silence.
He threw up his arms. "Wait in the break room. I get it. I get it." As he walked away, he mumbled, "They promised me I'd be in Vegas right now pulling slots."
Nickie popped the trunk. The larger-than-life package was tucked inside.
"At least he doesn't smell, yet," Eddy offered.
She tilted her head and said, "We double bagged him."
"And stuffed icy coolers around him."
Dave rubbed both hands over his face. "I've got a stretcher." Using his key card, he swiped open the lock to the staff basement door. Eddy held it open as Dave and Nickie hauled Parker onto the stretcher. He'd stiffened since they left the small Henderson airport.
Once in, she turned to Eddy. "Will you park my car?"
"Yep. I'm adding it t
o your growing list of you-owe-me's."
She got that.
She and Dave rolled the body to the service elevator. "It's going to be okay, you know." Of all the things for him to say. He'd always been more of a father to her than a boss.
"How? How is this going to be okay?"
"All for the greater good."
Her brain hurt.
The elevator opened and Nickie jumped. Medical Examiner, Benjamin Rickard, waited inches from the metal doors. He adjusted the collar of his short-sleeved plaid shirt that was buttoned to the top. "Hello, Detective." He rubbed his hands together like he was waiting to dive into a steak dinner. It was damned creepy.
Regardless, she was grateful. "Hello, Rickard. Thank you for coming in at this hour."
He maneuvered to the back of the stretcher and pushed it himself. He practically pranced on the way to his lab. "This is the Dale Parker," he said like he was a news anchor. "The infamous department mole, killed while waiting to testify."
It was all true, but neither Dave nor she acknowledged him.
Sliding the stretcher between two metal tables, he adjusted it, and then readjusted it until it was perfectly centered. Nickie clasped her fingers together. Never shake a baby.
He put on his lab jacket and a pair of latex gloves, then rubbed the palms of his hands together once more before using a surgical pair of scissors to cut through the black garbage bags.
The expression on his face fell. "Oh," is all he said. What the hell did that mean?
"What a disappointment. The autopsy will be a formality. The cherry color of his skin shows carbon monoxide poisoning."
"Holy what the hell?" Nickie yelled. "Was this an accident? Did Parker die from the generator? From faulty window air conditioners?"
"On the contrary, Detective. The amount of carbon monoxide needed to create this color could have only been purposeful."
Eddy walked in at that moment. He didn't speak but moved his eyes to each person in the room, dead included.
"Does a generator running window air conditioners count as a new heating system?"
"Ah. Indeed, Detective. Indeed it does. Find the seller of the equipment and find your killer."
* * *
Byrd snored as Duncan took one of the blankets from the empty double bed and spread it out on the floor in the corner. He dumped the contents of each bag onto the blanket. Before he organized the materials, a knock came at the door. He was expecting his brother, but he had a large underground ransom on his head. He stepped lightly to the door.
