The Dead Rogue

by L B Wyatt

  After waiting for twenty minutes, though, she felt her mind growing dull. She was staring at a flashing bank sign next door to the coffee place. Every time it switched from the temperature to the time, Veronica was sickened with how many minutes of her life she was wasting on this girl. She sure hoped talking with Poppy was productive and not a complete loss. Her gut told her this was exactly what she needed to do, and Veronica most often listened to her intuition.

  She was startled back to the here and now when the bank sign flashed something new across the screen. Her stomach flipped and twisted into a knot when she saw a personalize message displayed in the yellow lights. The image disappeared quickly, but the words were etched into her mind.

  Answer the phone, V.

  She sat up straighter in her seat and looked around the parking lot again, this time more carefully. They knew where she was? Veronica shook her head in disbelief. Of course they knew where she was. They probably always knew where she was. When she still didn’t see anything odd in the row of cars or people bustling by, Veronica dropped her eyes back to her phone.

  She was about the turn it back on when Poppy finally came out of the glass door, holding a giant clear cup containing some tan colored beverage topped heavily with whipped cream and caramel swirls. For a split second, Veronica’s mouth watered. Then she violently shook that notion away, swearing to never conform or cave to such trivial pleasures and cranked her engine. She followed Poppy’s little car until they were in a newer part of the downtown area. When Poppy parked her vehicle, Veronica had to circle the block twice to find somewhere to park as well and nearly missed the girl as she was fumbling to unlock a large glass door with oversize white letters reading: The Yoga Studio.

  “Excuse me,” Veronica called.

  Poppy jumped so vigorously she nearly dropped her phone and half-empty cup of sugared coffee. She pushed her glasses back over her head and squinted when she looked over.

  “Yeah?” she said, knitting her brow.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Veronica apologetically offered. “My name is Detective Covey. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about your friend Amelia Mason.”

  She watched the worry overcome Poppy’s face and her big blue eyes widened a notch and she swallowed.

  “Have you found her?” she asked immediately following the shock.

  “No, but I’ve recently been assigned to her case and I was trying to follow up on some leads.”

  “I already talked to the police. Like, months ago when she first disappeared.”

  “I know, I read your statement,” Veronica replied. “But I’ve found when working cold cases that friends and family sometimes think of details they were too stunned to remember at first. It’s helpful to refresh things,” she explained.

  Poppy nodded slowly, considering Veronica’s words and looked around the sidewalk as if someone might overhear them. “Sure, come on in.” She finished unlocking the building and walked in, holding the door for Veronica.

  “I didn’t see your badge,” Poppy stated, unloading her burdens on a table by the front desk. “You don’t look like a detective.”

  Veronica had assumed as much and luckily she had thought to grab an old unauthorized badge before she left her apartment. She reached to her side and unclipped the source of ID, flashing it quickly to keep the girl from looking too hard.

  Veronica ignored the girl’s statement that she didn’t look like a detective and casually placed the badge back on her waistband. She took a second to give the studio a once over. She could tell it was a building of multipurpose, but it looked like the yoga studio had the prime location for business. It was on the main level with plenty of space. Past the receptionist desk was a beaded doorway and through the strands, Veronica could see polished hard wood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall with a beautiful view of a gardened courtyard. Veronica pushed the beads back for a slightly better look, noticing how there were about twenty yoga mats of various colors all lined out and waiting for customers. The exposed duct work on the ceiling gave the place a modern, industrious look, but the lights strung across the beams softened it up and gave the place a romantic feel as well.

  “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but my first class is in, like, thirty minutes.” Poppy’s voice caused Veronica to turn back and face her.

  She nodded and walked back to the counter. Listening as the wooden beads clattered gently in her wake. Everything was tastefully decorated, like a personal designer from Pier One came in and staged the entire place. Between the earthy tones and the lighting, Poppy had accomplished a soothing, calm environment.

  “This place is amazing,” Veronica complimented, earning her first genuine smile from Poppy. Veronica noticed how the girl’s blue eyes were lined with makeup and the skin on her face was smooth and a little plump from youth. Her full lips (probably not naturally) were shining with a fresh application of gloss Veronica was sure the girl applied right before getting out of her little Prius. She had short dark hair in what Veronica thought was called a lob cut. It wasn’t quite short enough to be a bob. It was curled slightly giving it a nice beachy, care-free look. While Poppy was beautiful in her own right, Veronica couldn’t help but think of how the girl looked like everyone else nowadays.

  “Thank you!” she gushed. “I designed most everything.”

  “You’re good,” Veronica stated. “Do you own this place or rent?”

  “I own it,” she responded quickly. “I just opened a couple of months ago. It’s like a dream come true,” she said and then her face shadowed and she looked down at the calendar spread out before her on the countertop. “Except it was mine and Amelia’s dream and we still don’t know where she is, so that takes away from it, ya know?”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Veronica began.

  “The night she went missing.”

  “Did she say anything unusual or act differently like something or someone was troubling her?”

  Poppy’s smooth face crinkled into thought and she slowly shook her head, causing her short brown hair to sway. “Not really. I mean, she was always, like, kind of tore up because of her mom. She’s really sick.”

  Veronica nodded. “Was Amelia doing okay in school?”

  “Yeah, I think so. She mentioned a time or two about quitting, though. I think she was worried about paying for her mom’s treatments or whatever. She wanted to help out more.”

  “That’s why she worked at the Cracker Barrel?” Veronica assumed.

  “Yeah,” Poppy said and her eyes misted a little. “But even two jobs wasn’t enough. Her parents had to sell their big house outside Nashville just to cover a few of the bills.”

  “Two jobs?” Veronica echoed. “I didn’t know she worked somewhere else.”

  Poppy fidgeted with calendar in front of her and shrugged. “I don’t think it was anything great. She just worked for some barber in downtown for extra cash.”

  “Really? She liked to cut hair?” Veronica had read nothing about this in any report anywhere. A red flag went up instantly in her mind while her face stayed looking only mildly intrigued.

  Poppy shrugged suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I don’t really know. I mean, she was pretty quiet about it. I think she might have been a little ashamed, ya know? Cause it wasn’t in the best part of town.”

  Veronica nodded. “So you don’t know the name or this place?”

  “No, she only mentioned it once. We were both pretty busy right before she went missing so we didn’t get to spend a lot of time together.”

  Veronica nodded again, letting her eyes sweep over the desk in front of her. There was a computer with a credit card reader, a telephone and a cutesy little business card holder on display right in front of her decorated with owls. She felt her pride twinge a little; she secretly loved owls.

  “Do you know if Amelia attended any high-profile events before she disappeared?” Veronica wondered, aimlessly playing with the business card
s as she leaned on her elbows on the countertop.

  “Like, what do you mean?” Poppy looked lost.

  Veronica wasn’t sure she would be able to hold back a slap across the face if the word ‘totally’ escaped the girl’s mouth.

  “Like a fundraiser or charitable event that may or may not have involved politicians and other local big wigs?”

  Poppy actually curled her nose as she shook her head. “Oh, I think Amelia would’ve told me about something like that. Sounds fancy.”

  “Yeah, super fancy.” Veronica pushed the word from her mouth and forced her eyes straight. She had a part to play after all. Trust and a good rapport with a potential witness or lead was always important. No matter how much it tore her integrity to shreds.

  “No mention of a boyfriend?” Veronica felt compelled to ask the girl this because sometimes girls didn’t mention boyfriends to their mothers right away, but they would spill to their best friends pretty quick.

  She watched as Poppy’s eyes widened a little like the question was a shock. It shouldn’t have been. Amelia was young and beautiful and it wouldn’t have been a surprise if she had more than one boy interested in her.

  “Not that I know of,” Poppy said after a second. She looked down at the counter and shook her head. “Amelia didn’t have time for a boyfriend.”

  But Veronica had her doubts. The way Poppy answered was suspicious to her, but maybe Veronica was reading too much into it.

  “Well,” Veronica dropped the wad of cards she had been toying with and backed away from the counter, “if you think of anything,” she turned one of Poppy’s cards over and scribbled her own number down, “don’t hesitate to call me. Thank you for your time.”

  “No problem.” Poppy smiled sweetly and it transformed her entire face as the relief of Veronica’s departure became evident.

  Veronica exited the studio about the time two customers walked in. They were younger women with lob haircuts carrying oversized coffees. Veronica swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat as she held the door open for them and they walked right past her without a word. They never even looked up from their phones. Veronica let the door go a little prematurely and took away some satisfaction when she heard one of the girls yelp as it smacked her bottom.

  Chapter Six

  Over the next two days, Veronica promptly ignored the insistent blocked calls to her phone. She worked tirelessly on getting a complete list of barbershops in downtown, but after visiting every single one and showing Amelia Mason’s photo, not one person claimed to have ever heard of her or seen her, let alone hired her for cash under the table. It seemed as though Veronica had hit another brick wall.

  Frustration caused her to break open a new bottle of wine. Some of the information she’d ‘borrowed’ from work about this case was scattered now all over her living room. Veronica sat in the middle of the mess in her night shirt and coffee mug full of Barolos red wine. The rich, fullness of the alcohol soothed her anxiety and relaxed her entire body. She pressed the cup to her lips, savoring the flavor before swallowing it down. Veronica’s mother hadn’t taught her much in life, but she had always had excellent taste in wine.

  Veronica leaned back against her couch and licked the sweetness off her lips as she studied the papers surrounding her in an obsessive circle. She was missing something.

  A vital piece all tying this mystery together.

  Her eyes focused for a moment on the initial report. How Amelia had gotten ready for work one night, but never showed up. How her car had still been parked as though she never left. Someone had to have picked her up. Was she carpooling or was she snatched right before she got in her vehicle? Her keys were never found. Her car had still been locked. There was no forensic evidence indicating anyone else had been in the car with her. There were no local street cams on Amelia’s block, but the ones up the street showed several vehicles coming and going that evening. Nothing specific.

  Except for a black Cadillac; the same make and model as the one registered under Dwight Ross. This was a piece of the puzzle that helped Veronica connect the senator to the case, but it wasn’t anything solid. No license number could be detected on the street cameras. And as her lieutenant strongly stated to her once when she mentioned the detail: there were tons of black Cadillacs in this part of town.

  The plot had certainly thickened when Veronica learned of Amelia’s second job. A job that wasn’t mentioned in any of the statements or on any record whatsoever. If she was getting ready for work, but wasn’t even scheduled to come into Cracker Barrel that evening, Veronica could only conclude that the missing girl was heading off to her second unknown job.

  Veronica sighed heavily, twisted her legs under her restlessly and set her cup on the coffee table. She held her head in her hands for a moment, just thinking. She needed to clear her mind, she decided. She got up and went to her room, changing into her favorite bikini and grabbing a towel from the bathroom. One of the things she loved about her apartment building was the indoor pool in the lower area. She had been a swimmer in school. Having loved the water from a young age, it was one of her favorite pastimes. She would do a few laps and maybe something would come to her. Stepping back was always the best option when she was starting to feel overwhelmed.

  Within half an hour, Veronica was feeling better. The clock above the No Lifeguard on Duty sign said it was after midnight now. Maybe if she went another few laps she would be tired enough to actually go to sleep when she got in the bed. The water felt amazing as she sunk beneath the surface and pushed herself off the wall. When her legs were aching and her arms a little shaky, she ascended the steps of the pool and grabbed her towel. She took a few moments to dry off and listened to the echoes of the water left in her wake lapping at the sides of the concrete.

  Yes, she decided. She was truly exhausted now that she wasn’t moving around so much. She wrapped the towel around herself and headed out of the pool room. The large metal door with the EXIT sign over it had a keypad with a flashing red light. Normally the pool was closed this time of night, but she had watched the custodian enter the code enough that she had memorized it. She liked this area best during afterhours anyway. She wasn’t a fan of crowds…or people in general for that matter.

  Veronica punched in the code and heard the door click. She waved at the video camera in the upper corner as she turned out the door. Frank usually worked the nightshift and he didn’t care for her sneaking into the pool. Part of her wondered if he just enjoyed the show, while another part of her refused to think about it. Eek. Frank was well into his seventies. She eased out into the empty staircase and waited a minute to ease the door back quietly so she wouldn’t get caught by any of the patrolling guards. She had done this enough she was an expert now.

  She started up the stairwell to her apartment and when she got to the second story, she thought nine flights might actually be too much considering all the laps she just swam. She could feel the muscles in her thighs twitching and kicking in protest. She glanced at the door leading to the second hall elevator and for a brief moment, she was tempted. She talked herself out of it, though. This extra bit of exercise would surely put her into a blissful coma when she finally fell into bed.

  She stopped halfway up the third flight and her body stiffened when she heard a quiet click.

  Instinctively she held her breath in order to hear better and waited for more noise. Her heart raced a little when she heard a shuffling sound, followed by footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs. If she wasn’t so paranoid, this might not have bothered her. But in her world, everyone and everything was a potential threat and she had to treat it as such. She allowed herself to peek over the railing, seeing her fear confirmed. It wasn’t just a tenant sneaking around late at night. No, this person was dressed in black with a mask on and she thought she saw the glimmer of a knife blade in the fluorescent lights.

  Whoever this was meant business and they were no longer worried about sneaking up on Veronica. She took the steps
two at a time until she was on the third floor landing. She tried to push open the third floor doorway to give herself some time to find a weapon, but she was a little shocked to discover it was locked.

  It was a trap.

  She cursed inwardly and looked around. There was nothing in the stairwell to aid her in any defenses. Fleetingly, she wondered if this was another ploy by Quinn to test her. But she knew by the lightweight footfalls this attacker was not her old lover. Veronica turned from the door about the time her assailant ascended the last step of the landing. She barely had time to react before the man in black was swinging his weapon.

  Veronica dodged the first lunge, letting her towel fall and then promptly used it to distract her attacker. She wrapped it around the arm wielding the knife and twisted, but the guy, though not as big as Quinn, was still just as strong. He lifted his arm and her with it before she had the sense to let go. By the time she gathered her balance she was in harm’s way again. The knife swished by her abdomen dangerously close as she sucked in her stomach and arched her back to avoid the blade. She made another grab at the guy’s arm, but he swung when she made contact and she hit the concrete wall on the opposite side strenuously. She felt her shoulder pop and she hoped it wasn’t broken with the impact. She moved to right herself, but the enemy had her by her hair and turned before she could recover. She found herself slammed again into the wall, her back clashing with the cold stone and she could feel the tip of the knife pressing into her throat.

  She took a second to look into the eyes of her aggressor, but she didn’t recognize them as she’d hoped she would. Veronica raised her knee and planted it in his crouch, making solid contact. He let out a wail that echoed off the walls and throughout the stairwell. Veronica thought she’d gained an advantage, but she was wrong when she felt her flesh split open as the knife raked down her side. She tried to hold it in, but as her blood spilled out so did a scream of pain. Her hand instantly went to her abdomen, unsure if she was going to have to hold her intestines in until she got help or not.