by Paul Knox
“I’d rather go out with two girls and a bottle. That’s my philosophy.” Viktor laughed inanely and reached over, punching Lucky on the shoulder. “Not so lonely, huh?”
Lucky tried to laugh for Viktor’s sake, but what came out sounded more like a cough.
After calming down from his adolescent outburst, Viktor mentioned another side of his business. “Well, Lucky, if the guy doesn’t pay the ransom, let me know. I could still get you some money.”
Like a vulture picking rotten leftovers from a carcass, he added, “More if she’s pretty.”
“I’ll let you know,” Lucky mumbled, trying to ignore Viktor while putting the phone to his ear. “I’m about to tell Shanahan what he needs to do if he wants to see his wife again.”
Nine
Reece Cannon rhythmically tapped her foot, once again in front of Penny’s desk, waiting anxiously for any results on the search for Raymond Miller.
“He’s not easy to find, Reece. He doesn’t have a listed address anywhere and no bank accounts. He’s not on social media. After being released from jail for the Levamisole conviction, it’s like he up and vanished.”
“He probably doesn’t want to be found. But if anybody can find him, it’s you, Penny.”
“Have you seen Shanahan today, Reece? Frankly, he looks bloody horrible. He needs to get some sleep. For Zaki, if nothing else.”
“Would you be able to sleep?”
Penny didn’t answer, turning back to her computer and furiously typing away.
Reece left Penny to her own devices, and went to find Shanahan. Just as Penny described, a disheveled Shanahan lay draped over his desk, somewhere between half-asleep and half-dead. He hadn’t shaved in days, which was atypical of him, and his short brown hair was matted on one side of his head—the same side that looked like it was about to whack itself on his desk as he dosed off.
“Go home. Please. Go to Beryl’s house. You need some sleep. Have you been here all night?”
“Not all night. I started knocking on doors.”
“Knocking or kicking?”
“Yeah. I started with my neighbors. I wanted to find out if anyone saw anything—to hear what they had to say with my own ears.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing good. This is all over the news. Apparently there’s a candlelight vigil planned for tomorrow night. Everybody’s worried about Jessie…and me.”
“People care about you. I’ll be there. What time?”
“6:00 PM. I don’t know if I’m going.”
“Shanahan, you have to go. You need some support.”
“I have to find her. Otherwise I need to come up with fifty thousand dollars. I already called my bank and asked about a loan against my home. But honestly, Reece, the kidnapper doesn’t want her. He wants me. I know it. The ransom is a trap. It has to be. If I pay it, he’ll try to kill me, anyway. And Jessie.”
“I have some leads.”
Shanahan’s head popped up. “Did you find a man with six fingers?”
“What?”
“The man that grabbed Jessie. He had six fingers on each hand.”
“That’s news to me. Did you tell anyone that?”
“It sounded too crazy to bring up before. I didn’t believe it myself. My vision was doubled. But the more I think about it, the more I’m sure of it.”
“There can’t be that many people who fit that description. Let’s check it out.”
“I’ve been searching. You had a lead?”
“I found out there’s a former doctor who sold a cutting agent years ago. Maybe he knows someone who knows someone or that kind of thing. I also have the name of the guy…”
“The guy I killed? Great. Who?”
“The name is Mickey Money. That’s all I have so far. Maybe the ex-doc will know more.”
“Let’s go!” Shanahan jumped up.
“I don’t know where the doc is, yet. Penny’s looking. But…no. You’re not going anywhere looking like that. You need a shower. And, like, eight hours of sleep. I’ll talk to the doc and let you know everything.”
“How can I go home? Everything there reminds me of the…the…thing.” Shanahan clenched his jaw and looked at his phone again, like he was expecting something. Some news, a call, the kidnapper, a distraction—probably anything.
His phone started ringing. An unknown number.
“It’s him, I know it. Get the recording gear!” Shanahan really just commanded himself as he grabbed a cable and plugged it into his cell’s audio output. The digital device could record any nuances, or any hints of location in the background of the voice.
Unfortunately, the voice had been disguised—uniquely pitched—and anything in the background would also be pitched. It was both low and high, almost like multiple people were talking. Filtering out the distortion would be difficult.
But they would try if they could.
The hostage negotiator jumped up from his makeshift desk and ran over.
Shanahan finished jabbing the record button, and then set his phone on the desk before answering.
The distorted voice spoke. “Shanahan, I would ask if you have the money, but I’m betting you think you’ll find me. Please, trust me, I don’t want your lovely Jessie dead or shipped overseas to the highest bidder. I’m on your side.”
The hostage negotiator tried giving instructions to Shanahan, but he ignored his cues.
“If you do anything to her, I’ll—”
“Now is not your time to speak. Do not interrupt me. You have six days left. I’ll call again, soon. Don’t press this matter. I don’t want to hurt her to prove I’m serious.”
At this point in the conversation, every deputy in the sheriff’s department had converged around Shanahan’s desk, and the entire place was silent. No one typed. No one talked. No one moved. No one breathed.
“Let me talk to her…let me know you’re not lying.”
“I can’t do that right now. Oh, and Shanahan, there’s something else. Something I need you to do—or rather, not do. I’ll be in touch. Six days.”
The phone went dead.
The only noise heard in the sheriff’s department at that moment was the sound of Shanahan screaming in frustration.
Blinking away tears, he questioned Reece with bleary, red eyes.
“We’ll analyze this audio,” Reece whispered. “Go.”
“I’m…need…call me.” Shanahan tried to compose himself before walking straight to the exit doors and leaving.
◆◆◆
After the heart-stopping call, Penny Gray returned to her desk and searched for Raymond Miller more fervently than ever. The only problem was that Raymond seemed to have evaporated. There was no trace of him anywhere.
Penny started thinking Raymond jumped ship and went to a different country, possibly trying to escape the people that were after him.
Then she had a crazy idea.
Maybe the people that were after him would know where he was.
That’s when she stumbled over the information on Diamond.
Diamond had been after Raymond for what Raymond supposedly did to her son. The news report that Penny uncovered had documented this woman, Diamond, being arrested multiple times for stalking the former doctor during his trial.
Diamond claimed that the cutting agent Raymond gave to the cocaine dealers is what killed her son.
Not the repeated cocaine usage or other drugs, but the cutting agent, Levamisole. Highly unlikely, but nonetheless, at one time this woman was out for blood.
As Penny dug deeper, she realized that after being released from custody, Raymond had officially requested a restraining order.
Diamond violated it and had been arrested again, this time serving time herself.
Shortly after that, Raymond disappeared off the map.
Perhaps it had been Diamond’s stalking that made Raymond want to become invisible.
Unlike Raymond, Diamond’s whereabouts were easy to find. She lived in
a home about fifteen minutes through the desert, as the crow flies, northwest from Reece’s own Nohpalli community.
Ten
Reece Cannon surveyed the desert landscape as she drove to Diamond’s house. The rising Tuesday sun drew long shadows that pointed behind Reece, to where she’d been. The dry country felt full of a fresh day’s hope, yet remained partially hidden with questions.
I see you.
Could Don Rico have somehow orchestrated the kidnapping from jail?
Shanahan’s wife had been abducted and now the lieutenant was slowly wearing thin. The shadows of the desert seemed to stretch alongside Reece as she passed.
She rolled her window up. The October air seemed a little cooler than usual. It was getting chilly, fast. Sometimes the desert did that. It could be bright and sunny one minute and then dark, flash flooding over the cracked earth the next.
Reece shivered, briefly thinking of Kevin Kelvin. Maybe she’d take him up on another warm meal.
Diamond’s home was small and quaint, well-kept with a few tasteful yard decorations. A hummingbird feeder hung from the lower branches of a large mesquite tree and a glass rain gauge stood from the ground, waiting for rain, next to some purple jasmine flowers.
A covered carport protected an older model of a white, Kia Sportage underneath, connected to the side of the home. The Kia had been recently washed and also looked well kept for its age.
“May I help you,” a middle-aged woman with short, curly, graying hair asked upon opening the door.
“Detective Reece Cannon.” Reece held her badge up. “I’m looking for Diamond. I have some questions regarding Raymond Miller.”
“I’ve already told you cops everything I know about that bastard. He took my son and now I’m the one who’s in trouble for it? What kind of justice do we have here in the states, anyway? I haven’t done nothin’ wrong!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. I’m not here to bother you. I’m looking for Raymond. Can we talk for a moment?”
“What do you want to find that man for? He’s one of Satan’s demons. You should’ve kept him locked up. Or fried him on the chair. Hmph.” Diamond frowned but opened her door wider, motioning Reece in.
Diamond’s house was decorated with various religious pictures and crosses, along with shrines to her late son, as well as friendly pictures of other family members or friends. Probably both.
“You have a nice home, Diamond. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“Can I get you some ice tea? Just made a pitcher this mornin’.”
“No, thanks.”
Diamond poured Reece a glass anyway, and also one for herself. She brought them over, and set them on the small kitchen table, inviting Reece to sit.
Reece took the glass and sat. “Thank you.” The tea smelled fragrant, like she’d added jasmine from her flowers outside.
“So, how can I help you with Raymond the Monster?”
“Raymond Miller, yes. I understand you kept a close eye on him for a while. Do you have any idea where he’s living these days?”
“Oh, he wants to get away from me, that’s for sure. He knows I hold him accountable for his actions, even if no one else does. What do you want to find him for?”
Reece explained the investigation and her desire to question Raymond about the very same cutting agent that Diamond believed killed her son. That seemed to be a good enough reason for Diamond.
“So, if you find any more of these lowlife dealers who use Satan’s poison, you’ll arrest them, too?”
“I’ll arrest the dealers, ma’am. And catch a kidnapper, saving an innocent woman in the process.”
“Okay.” Diamond leaned forward, cupping her glass, narrowing her eyes. She whispered, “I’ll tell you where he is.”
“You know?”
“You bet I do. He has a girlfriend with a house out in the Santa Rita Foothills. That’s where he lives, now. You want the address?”
“Ma’am, you’re not still trying to find him, are you? Leave it to us deputies to take care of this. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”
“I’ve left him alone this past year, haven’t I?” Diamond sounded slightly miffed.
Reece nodded. “I’ll take that address.”
◆◆◆
The Santa Rita Foothills were encompassed by wine country. Way out in the middle of nowhere, a small artsy town existed where the majority of the population either owned a vineyard or worked for one.
A lovely, easy-going place to spend a day or two, it took about forty-five minutes from Diamond’s home before Reece arrived. When she drove through, down the old two-lane road, she remembered a visit she’d taken long ago, getting away from the day-to-day grind.
Surprisingly, the house where Raymond lived was part of a subdivision. One of the few that existed there, it was small and new. Spacious and beautiful, Reece easily imagined an ex-doctor living there, who might still have plenty of money in the bank—or his girlfriend’s bank.
Reece didn’t want to see the look on his face after she told him that Diamond knew his address. Reece hated to spoil his secret getaway, except there was something about nice, little ol’ Diamond that seemed downright vicious. Her self-imposed distance might not be sustained much longer.
Raymond opened the door, surprised that the detective had found him. He let her in.
Reece took in the nicely furnished living room. She sat on a perfectly firm, black leather couch, and began her introductions with a compliment on his home.
“My girlfriend owns the place.”
Reece eyed his expensive yet casual gray cashmere sweater. “But you pay for it, I’m sure.”
The bit of hair he had left was short and trim. The paperwork at the station said he was in his fifties, but he could easily pass for sixty-something.
Raymond chuckled. “You did your detective homework. I needed to get away from my past. I never meant anybody wrong. I made mistakes—and paid for them.”
The crow’s feet around Raymond’s eyes hinted at a tiredness that never left him. He shuffled his blue corduroy slippers.
“Hanging with drug dealers is a risky business, Mr. Miller.”
“It was just Levamisole. I never handed out opioids or Xanax or anything hard. It’s used to treat worm infections, for crying out loud.”
“Regardless, I need to find a woman who was kidnapped from her own home in the middle of the night. It could’ve been anyone kidnapped—even you or your girlfriend. I’m hoping you might have some information for me on the kidnapper.”
“Me? Why would I know anything?” Raymond sat up straight, with a look of grave concern, obviously a little frightened. Reece didn’t blame him, especially regarding his past encounters with a stalker.
“One of the kidnappers went by the name of Mickey Money. I have his prints on a stash of cocaine, confiscated by my fellow deputies. And I believe someone connected Mickey Money to a Columbian cocaine smuggler awaiting trial, by the name of Don Rico.”
“Rico, you say?”
“You know him?”
“I’ve heard the name. Never met him. But, I do know that anyone these Columbians are involved with are—” Raymond lifted his hands up and made a quotation marks sign with his fingers. “—big time.”
“What exactly are you implying?”
“I’ve heard lots of names, and you’d be surprised at all the people on both sides of the border involved. Have you considered that someone else might be playing a part in the abduction, someone besides Columbians?”
◆◆◆
Diamond stood next to her kitchen wall, holding one of the many frames she’d purchased to encase snapshot memories of her son. After the detective had left, she shed tears over her loss, again. The questioning had brought the pain right back up to the surface.
Raymond the Monster had taken life from her. Her own baby. The baby boy she nursed, that she held in her arms and potty trained.
If it wasn’t for people li
ke Raymond, her son would still be alive.
Now here she was, in a town full of history and echoes, but empty without the presence of her son.
She hung the frame back on the wall and took the last sip of her ice tea.
What would the cops do to her, anyway? Lock her up? If she could save other baby boys from dying, maybe she’d be a martyr.
She slowly washed the glass in the sink, watching the water fall into the drain.
Maybe Raymond deserved to meet his maker.
Diamond went to her bedroom and pulled a case out from under her bed. She opened it and looked at what lay inside.
The more she stared, the less fear she acknowledged. She felt like Detective Reece Cannon coming to her house today might have been a sign.
After all, she knew his address yet did nothing.
Not anymore.
Did she have anything left to lose?
Diamond picked up the object in the case and looked at it. Rotated it in her hands. Then she placed it back inside, before grabbing the entire case and storming out of her bedroom.
She unhooked her keys, hanging by the front door.
A couple minutes later she started her Kia and drove away from her home. Maybe for the last time, she thought.
Santa Rita Foothills, here I come.
◆◆◆
Jessie Shanahan had been so fatigued from worry, fear, mental alertness and general exhaustion, that she’d fallen into a deep sleep the previous night. It had been the only real sleep she’d gotten since being tied to that chair. And now her aching neck was paying for it.
As typical, Lucky didn’t return last night. The house had been quiet since he’d left with that ‘worst of all’ man. For hours afterwards, she’d sat there mute, watching the door, hoping they wouldn’t come back.
Slumber had taken her without permission. And then her consciousness returned, awaking into this nightmare.
Something had been nagging Jessie’s mind. Lucky looked strangely familiar. But she couldn’t place it. Did she know him from somewhere?
Please, Tommy, find me.
