Another ledger listed payment, but the costs were not normal. For instance, why did a bar need to spend ten thousand dollars on bacon? I slid the files closed and moved to the trunk. It was bolted shut, but nothing I couldn’t pick. Thirty seconds later I unclipped the lock and flipped the lid back. My heart stopped and then sped rapidly to the point that I worried I might pass out from the pure adrenaline.
Drugs, packages stacked upon packages of white powdered drugs. There had to be thousands of dollars’ worth of methamphetamines in the locked trunk. I snapped a picture on my phone and quickly replaced the lock. Using the hem of my top I wiped my prints clean. I wasn’t sure how much longer Elle could keep her party going. I wasn’t even sure how long I had been in the office, but the timer in my head said I was in trouble. I’d never been one to listen to my good sense, though, not when I had only one chance to get what I needed.
I whipped open the door of the armoire to be greeted by more automatic weapons than any club, or single person, ever needed to possess. The doors snapped shut, but not before I took a few pictures of the contents.
I was about to leave when I remembered the notepad from the center drawer. The commotion was dying down in the club. Time wasn’t on my side. Taking a pencil and laying it nearly flat, I rubbed the lead across the pad, revealing a message.
“Sierra shipping,” I read out loud, “3482 S. California St. 11-24 11.”
I tore the sheet clean and shoved it down my shirt just as I swore I heard my sister yell, “You can take my headset, but you’ll never take my dignity!”
Leave it to Elle to take the drama to the next level.
I glanced around once to make sure I hadn’t left anything out of place. People were less inclined to check hidden cameras if they didn’t suspect foul play. Confident that everything was as it should be I unlocked the door, pulled it open and locked it again. I was just rounding the corner when the guards stepped beneath the arch. My heart hit the floor. I let my body fall against the wall as if I were drunk.
“What are you doing back here?” one of them demanded. His strong hands grasped my shoulders so hard that I couldn’t help but cry out. My head stayed down. I had to keep my head down. If they recognized me, if for one second they suspected me… I didn’t finish the thought, it was too bleak.
“Please, I’m so lost,” I whimpered. “I’m just looking for a place to rest. I think someone slipped me something.”
Their words rattled fast in Spanish, too fast for me to gather any information. My fate was in their abusive hands, and I knew one way to tip the scale.
“Oh gosh,” I whimpered. “I’m going to be sick.” I dry heaved once and the man who had me pinned shoved me hard. Once clear of his arms, I heaved again and let them hurl insults my way. I braced my arm against the arch, pretending to get a grip on my surroundings. In reality, I was looking for my sister and her friends. I spotted them near the exit. Elle shoved a bouncer as she scanned the crowd. For the first time that night I saw fear. Distractions were one thing, losing another sister, losing me, was another. I raised my hand and she caught the movement. With one quick slap of her clutch against the brute’s arm she spun and stalked out, whole posse in tow.
I sighed my relief. She appeared unharmed. The club had resumed its normal festivities in their absence. I had incriminating pictures to show for it. All a win in my book. I scanned the room, looking for Andrew or anyone else from the office, but they weren’t in sight. Before I made my exit, I cast one last look over my shoulder in the direction of the office I’d infiltrated.
That was my mistake.
He was watching, studying me, waiting for the exact moment that I’d break cover. I met the man’s eyes, the one who’d nearly attacked me two nights before. The one with the thick chops, black eyes and tangled goatee. He saw the cracks in my cover. He knew it was all an act. The name rolled across his lips slow enough that I couldn’t mistake what he’d said.
“Zorra.”
I dove into the thickest part of the crowd, weaving and ducking as I went. I had to lose him. I had to get away before he caught me. As the edge of the crowd neared, I looked back once. He hadn’t pursued. I didn’t take time to dwell on why. My only focus was to escape.
Eleanor and her friends waited for me outside. I worried I might bounce out of my skin with anxiety. I wasn’t sure what I’d found, but it was big. They all discussed where to go next, but I kept my eye on the door, waiting for the bouncer to appear and take his revenge.
A full minute passed and they still hadn’t made a choice. Out of pure fear and desperation I shouted, “Let’s just go, okay?”
Elle caught my eye and read the message. I don’t think I started breathing again until we were at least ten miles clear of the club. It wasn’t until much later that night as I was still trying to remove the feeling of bugs beneath my skin that it dawned on me why the guard hadn’t pursued me.
He’d gone back to check the security tapes.
Chapter 14
I couldn’t sleep once I knew they had my face to look at as often as they wanted. That meant my time with the law office had to be limited, maybe not even one more day. Or maybe that wasn’t the best idea, perhaps sticking it out and pretending it was business as usual was a safer plan.
Eleanor opted to stay with me, insisting that my bed was big enough for both of us. She was right, but only because I was pacing the floor instead of sleeping. There was no easy answer, and whatever I’d sensed coming for me had picked up speed.
I grabbed my phone and fell back on my couch. My fingers flipped on the PI Net app. I scrolled through the job listings, wishing once more that I’d stayed with Ryder. But what about Amos? It’d been easier when I assumed he might be guilty, but to know beyond a doubt that he was innocent? I couldn’t let him rot away in prison for something he hadn’t done.
The night before I’d promised Ryder that we’d talk again, and yet I hadn’t been there. I noticed his active icon, but figured he’d fallen asleep waiting for Katie to write. The thought did nothing for my pending depression. I clicked on his username to message him and began typing.
“Sorry I missed you. The case got out of control. I’m safe now. Sometimes I wonder why I do this crazy job.”
I pressed send and let my phone rest on my stomach. Sleep was easier when I had him near, even if it was pretend, even if I could only hold him in the palm of my hand.
The phone vibrated. My eyes snapped open.
“Still there?” Ryder’s message waited for me.
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like your case is pushing back a little bit.”
“That’s an understatement.” I didn’t want to talk about my case. I wanted to hear about him. “Tell me about your day, Ryder.”
“Nothing new. They tried to jog my memory again.”
“Did it work?”
“Not really, all the same memories as before.” There was a long pause, but the bubbles reappeared and then vanished, then reappeared again, as if he were thinking about what he was writing. “It was weird, though. They put this handgun in front of me, told me to do whatever I wanted with it.”
My heart skipped a little. Why would they give a gun to someone who was clearly depressed and in danger of a psychotic break?
“And?”
“It wasn’t loaded,” he wrote quickly, as if he’d realized I might have had concerns. “But I only know that because my first instinct was to disassemble then reassemble the entire thing.”
It’d been one of the many training exercises within Eden’s Haven. They had taken gun-hating Ryder and made him into a sharpshooter.
“And that’s not normal for you?” I asked, only because I knew that’s what any PI would ask.
“No,” he wrote back, “and worse, I did it in twenty-five seconds. The spring got jammed, or it would have been faster.”
I could only imagine the look of shock on his face when he’d finished. To be able to do something and never remember learning it, t
hat was the stuff nightmares were made of. But then again, Eden’s Haven had been one long nightmare.
“Tell me about you,” Ryder wrote. “How is your not-boyfriend?”
Jealousy pricked at me again. It was obvious he was interested in Katie, and for some reason it didn’t matter that I was Katie.
“Complicated,” I wrote back.
“I know the feeling.”
“How so?”
Again there was a pause and intermittent bubbles as he figured out what to say.
“I went out with that girl Vanessa again, but I feel like she wants me to play a part. She acts as if it should come easily to me, but it’s doesn’t, and I don’t understand how to be this person everyone wants me to be.”
I didn’t know what to say. Vanessa made me irrational. Knowing she was trying to get with him again in my absence made me ten times more irrational than normal. Thankfully he wrote again before I had to think of something supportive to say.
“She told me she loves me. She’ll wait for me to heal and remember.” He paused but then began writing again. “Do you love your guy? Does it just come easy for you ladies?”
“No,” I wrote back, but then, fearing he would misinterpret my answer, I clarified. “It doesn’t come easy for me. I love him, but I’m terrified. What about the hard times? What would I do if he ever decided I wasn’t worth the trouble? I don’t think I could live without him. Losing him would destroy me. Sometimes I think it’s better if I never try at all.”
I imagined him pondering what I’d written, pulling it apart to understand all the pieces.
“I don’t even think I know what love is anymore,” he wrote after a minute or so, “and everything with Vanessa is only making it worse.”
I whispered a tiny “Ha ha” into the night at Vanessa’s misfortune.
“Sometimes,” Ryder wrote, “I wish I’d never woken up.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The crick in my neck had me nearly deformed by morning. Restless nights had a way of aggravating my bad shoulder as well. Regret was too easy to find, at least over my sleeping habits, not over last nights’ activities. I fell asleep talking with Ryder, nothing substantial after his heavy confession, just the basic get to know you sorts. Because Ryder and I had never had a first date, we’d skipped most of that in our relationship. The upside of our dysfunction was that I was able to tell the truth without letting on about my identity. Somewhere between favorite guilty pleasure movie, and best genre of music, I finally drifted off.
I left my cottage before Elle woke up. I wanted to get in to see Ranger before I had to be to work. If I could convince him to get a warrant, then I wouldn’t even bother to show up at Russell & Colvin. After a quick sign in at the front, I made my way back to Ranger’s desk. His face lit up as he spotted me headed for him. It felt strange to compare Mom’s stories of his reckless choices to the Ranger who refused to act too quickly without more solid evidence. Maybe everyone eventually grows up. There was hope for me yet.
“Hey, Lindy Belle.” He rocked back in his chair. I stopped short of his desk. “What brings you in?”
The chair at the next desk was empty, so I grabbed it and took a seat. “I have evidence,” I said. “Pictures this time.”
The color drained from his face. He shifted forward to lessen our distance. “Lindy, what did you do?”
“I got in to that back office at Club Feugo.”
“How?”
“I can’t tell you that,” I said, knowing full well I’d have to admit to breaking and entering.
He swore under his breath, but I plowed on. I started with the drugs in the trunk, then the armoire full of illegal weapons. Finally, from my pocket I pulled the rubbing of the notepad.
“Is this enough?” I asked. Ranger’s eyes remained locked on the smeared writing. “Can you get a warrant?”
“You know I can’t use most of this. You haven’t said it, but we both know you broke in. A judge would throw it out.”
“So name me as an informant. I’ve seen it done loads of times. Criminal informants get deals on what they hand over. Don’t charge me with B&E in exchange for my pictures.”
“This is different.” He ran his hand through his thinned hair. “You have ties to the case. Defense will say you planted the drugs and weapons to get your guy out of jail. I can’t use this, Lindy.”
Nothing. It was all for nothing. I risked my life for nothing.
“I thought you could do more,” I said. “Mom talks about what a rogue you were back in the day. I guess I thought you might push this a little harder.”
Disappointment etched his features, not because of me, but because he knew he’d failed me in some way. Without asking, I knew he’d always thought of me as his daughter, maybe because with one choice I could have been. Maybe it was because we were more alike than I was with my own father. No father wants to disappoint their daughter, blood or not.
“Look, I’ll get this stuff over to Narcotics. This would fall to them anyway with a stash like that.”
“There’s more coming.” The notepaper crinkled beneath my finger. “Four days, Ranger.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, “and I’ll pass it along. Maybe we can have SWAT ready. I’ll try, okay? I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” It was the first glimpse of the Ranger I remembered from my childhood.
“In the meantime,” he pressed on, “you’ve gotta stay away from this. This could be linked to the Mexican Cartel. I don’t want you mixed up in any of that, understand me?”
I nodded, though I didn’t mean it. We were in Central California. The land was used for farming, not shipping drugs. He was worrying over nothing, and I was far from dropping the case.
“If Narcotics starts investigating, will the charges against Amos get dropped?”
The wind fell from his sails. There was nothing he wanted more than to free Amos for me, but it wasn’t happening. “We found gloves in his apartment. They had Hallie’s DNA all over them, saliva, skin cells, and blood. It’s not looking good.”
“They were planted,” I said before the doubt could take hold in my mind. “Those men at the club, they did it, Ranger. I’m telling you, they did it.”
He nodded, but it was only to appease me. “You’re a good person. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
When I left Ranger I was beyond dejected. I’d planned to visit with Amos, to tell him I was moments away from getting his freedom back, but with no good news to share, I couldn’t bear the visit.
I called Dad’s cell, but it went to voicemail on the second ring. He was still mad, not ready to talk. Likely he’d figured out by now that the whole evening had been my plan. That wouldn’t make me too many points.
With an hour left before work, I headed for Starved for Art. Something else in that closet had scared Hallie and I needed to find it.
It took fifteen minutes to get there, but as I walked in, Asher spotted me. “Hey, you’re that PI working on Hallie’s case, aren’t you? Have you figured it out yet?”
The place was livelier this time, better time of day, or perhaps the musician playing was a patron favorite. Her high-pitched wailing did nothing for me. I felt like my cranky old grandma. She used to hear Eleanor’s bubblegum pop songs and would launch into a rant on, ‘what had ever happened to decent music anyway?’
“No.” The door closed behind me. “But I’m getting closer. Actually, I was hoping I could look at the closet again.”
“Of course. I’ll sneak you back there. My manager is watching, but if he asks I’ll tell him you’re new talent.”
I hoped it wouldn’t come down to singing for proof, because I was hopeless. Granted, as I followed Asher, the auditory assault from the band on the stage continued its abuse, and I was pretty sure I could manage at least as well as she did.
The backstage curtain fell into place behind me and muffled the sound. My stomach growled at the smell of eggs and bacon. Amos might have been on to something when he ment
ioned my lack of eating. Maybe it was a habit from Eden’s Haven, maybe it was more.
“Are you okay back here?” Asher asked. “I’ve gotta get back out there, or my boss is going to kill me.”
I assured him that I’d be fine. The sound grew and faded as he pulled back the curtain and exited again. The closet was dark with the curtain shut. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight feature. I found Amos’ message first, near fully smudged off, but still clear enough I could read it. I worked out from there, running the light in a straight line, reading every note as I came to it. The light illuminated even the ones that had been written over, or erased with the palm of someone’s hand. No spot of the wall lacked writing. One message bled into the next. Messages were mostly superficial, well wishes, and plans for the future. Whatever Hallie had seen was terrifying.
I looped back toward the center for the third time, the row just three or four inches above Amos’ note. I nearly missed it. It would have been easy to miss it, but Hallie was a little taller than I was, and it would have stared her directly in the face.
“I saw you, H. –B”
Again it was about context. H could have been anyone. The sentence could have meant that someone saw her perform, but the lettering, the perfect blocks, the deep pressure with which the tiny words were carved into the black wall, it showed the rage of the inscriber. It was meant to frighten her.
I snapped a picture and ducked out. The crowd began clapping because thank goodness that last song had finally ended, and my ears hadn’t exploded. In the lull, I called Russell & Colvin and played sick once more. I had a hunch to follow and it might take most of the day.
♦ ♦ ♦
I backtracked through Hallie’s life. I found a slip of paper jammed in her locker at Ace’s written in the same blocked handwriting as the closet.
“We’re coming for you, H. –B”
Her car was still in the lot of her apartment complex. The windows had been smashed. It saved me the trouble of the lock. I found another scrap of paper.
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