Wonderland

by Jennifer Hillier

  “Did you see what happened?” She spoke to his back.

  “Didn’t see nothing, didn’t hear nothing. I was sitting on this bar stool the whole time.”

  The line of the day, she thought. Following his instructions, she made her way across the clubhouse to where the bedrooms were. The first one’s door was slightly ajar. She knocked before pushing it open all the way.

  A young woman in her early twenties was sitting on top of the sparsely made bed, skinny legs splayed out in front of her. One hand held a Ziploc bag filled with ice cubes to her head, and her eyes were closed and puffy. Another woman, early thirties, sat beside her on a chair, leafing through a celebrity gossip magazine.

  Neither woman heard her coming, and they both jumped when the door squeaked.

  “Jenna?” Vanessa addressed the girl on the bed. “I’m Deputy Chief Castro. You okay?”

  Jenna opened her eyes. She gave Vanessa the once-over, noting the badge clipped to her breast pocket. “I’m fine,” she said, putting the icepack down. “It looks worse than it feels.”

  “Bullshit,” the other woman snapped, closing the magazine. “Look what that fucking asshole did to her face. Fucking piece of scum. You arrest him yet?” she said to Vanessa.

  “Shut up, Debbie.” The young woman’s voice sounded stuffy from crying. “I said I’m fine. I tripped and hit my head. I already told the other cop that I don’t need to go to the hospital. You can go now.”

  “Actually, I can’t.” Vanessa stood near the edge of bed. “You’ve been assaulted, Jenna. I’m here to find out what happened, so I can help you.”

  “I said. I fell.” Jenna put the ice pack back to her face. “I’m a klutz. What can I say.”

  Vanessa glanced over at her friend. Debbie’s lips were pursed. She was clearly biting her tongue. “Can you give us a moment alone?”

  “Just tell her,” Debbie said to Jenna, standing up. She folded her magazine under one arm. “It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. Enough’s enough.”

  She left and Vanessa stood up, closing the door firmly behind her. Then she took the chair that Debbie had been occupying. “Let me see your face,” she said gently.

  After a few seconds, the younger woman turned toward her. The right half of her face was swollen and red. By tomorrow it would be full-out purple. There were three lacerations on her cheek, one on her lip, and one on her eyebrow. Despite the injuries, she was a very pretty girl. Strawberry blond hair, pert nose, bright blue eyes. Skin the color of porcelain. Dressed in a loose floral tank top and a white skirt, she looked like the girl next door, and not somebody Vanessa would expect to see hanging out in a biker clubhouse.

  “You really should go to the hospital and have that looked at,” Vanessa said. “You could have a concussion. That’s serious.”

  “I hate hospitals.”

  “I do, too. But concussions are pretty serious, regardless of how they happened. Also, those cuts look pretty deep. You might need stitches. If they don’t heal properly, you could have permanent scarring. Look.” Vanessa turned her face away slightly and lifted up her chin, pointing to a pink scar just along her jawline. It was about an eighth of an inch thick and two inches long, and wrinkled. “See that? Fell into one of the weight bars at the gym last year. Got infected because I wouldn’t get it looked at. Now I have this on my face forever.” It was a complete lie—if only the injury had happened at the gym instead of at home, and by accident, instead of on purpose.

  “What? Serious?” Jenna looked horrified. “Fine, I’ll go.”

  “Good. Now we both know you didn’t trip,” Vanessa said. “Are you worried that your boyfriend will hurt you again? His name’s Mike, right? Is Debbie right that this wasn’t the first time?”

  Jenna clenched her jaw, not answering. She reached for the pillow beside her and clutched it to her chest. She looked very young and very vulnerable. “It’s complicated,” she finally said.

  “You were arguing, I imagine. Maybe you lost your temper, moved toward him.” Vanessa kept her voice soft. “Maybe he shoved you just to get you to go away. Maybe he didn’t mean to shove so hard. You lost your balance.” She pointed to Jenna’s sandals, which were still strapped to her feet. “Three-inch wedges. I have a pair like that. Stepped on a pebble once, went sideways and hit the ground hard. Who knew wedges could be so dangerous?”

  Jenna looked away, clutching the pillow tighter. “I wanted to hit him.”

  “How come?”

  “I thought he was cheating on me.” A tear spilled over onto the cheek that wasn’t swollen. “I mean, he is. Everybody here knows it. I was the last to find out.”

  “That seems to be the way it always goes,” Vanessa said with sympathy. “It’s humiliating, isn’t it?”

  The girl looked up at her, and she was so forlorn it was all Vanessa could do not to hug her. “I was yelling at him. He was yelling back, telling me that I didn’t know what I was talking about, even though I saw what she wrote to him on Facebook. He forgot to log out of his account, and I read all her messages to him, there were like a dozen of them, and I took screen shots, tried to show him I had proof. He wouldn’t look at them, and instead he accused me of spying on him, saying that I was crazy and paranoid.” Jenna shook her head, looking genuinely puzzled. “Why do guys do that? Why do they always say you’re crazy and paranoid when they’re the ones cheating on you? I hate that.”

  “It’s what they do to get you off their back,” Vanessa said. “They make you feel like you’re losing your mind, that you somehow made it all up.”

  “They must all take the same Douchebag 101 class,” Jenna said, and Vanessa smiled. “Anyway, he called me a stupid, paranoid little bitch, and that’s when I lost it. I lunged at him, and he punched me in the face. Twice. That’s when I fell.” Her face scrunched up and she began to cry, the sobs coming up painfully from her small chest.

  “It’s not okay that he hit you, Jenna. Has this happened before?”

  The younger woman didn’t respond. Her silence was more than enough. Then Jenna said in a tiny voice, “But it’s my fault. It happens when I get in his face. I know it makes him mad, and that I shouldn’t push him like that. I mean, it’s . . . it’s complicated.”

  Spoken like a true victim.

  Vanessa nodded and patted the girl on the ankle. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s never your fault. But thank you for telling me. I know that was hard.” She plucked a tissue out of the Kleenex box on the nightstand. “When you’re ready, we’ll go to the hospital. Take some pictures, get you fixed up. It’s going to be all right.”

  “Are you gonna charge him?” she said, blowing her nose. Vanessa handed her another tissue.

  “If you don’t, I’ll kill him,” a deep voice from the doorway said.

  Both women looked up. A tall man was standing there, maybe six four with muscular arms and only a slight paunch. Tattoos ran down from under the sleeves of his T-shirt, all the way to his wrists, where two huge hands covered in silver rings were clenched into fists. Messy salt-and-pepper hair and a scruffy beard framed a face that was mottled with fury. His complexion matched the red tee he was wearing. Instinctively Vanessa’s hand went under her jacket to her hip, where she wore her Glock, but he made no move to enter the bedroom.

  “Can I help you?” Vanessa said, her voice crisp.

  “Don’t help me, help her.” His voice was like thunder, and his eyes focused on Jenna. “Jesus fucking Christ. Look what that animal did to you.”

  “I’m okay,” Jenna said, and then began to sob again.

  “Did you not think I was going to hear about this?” His chest heaved and he pointed to Vanessa. “You gonna arrest that sonofabitch?”

  “Sir, I just—”

  “You arrest that no good piece of shit or I’ll kill him, do you understand?”

  Vanessa stood up, moving her ja
cket slightly away from her body so he could see she was carrying. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you threaten to kill someone. I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “Tanner Wilkins. This is my club, my place of business, and that’s my daughter,” he said, his breathing hard and even. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Vanessa was so startled by the hostility in his voice that it took her a second to respond. She continued to keep one hand on her gun. “I’m Deputy Chief Vanessa Castro. I’m trying to help your daughter.”

  “You must be new, Deputy Chief, so allow me to school you on how this is going to go.” Tanner stepped in, fists still clenched. “First, you’re going to arrest that no-good piece of scum Mike Bruin. Second, he’s going to stay arrested—I don’t give a flying fuck who his stepfather is. Third, he’s going to jail. Where he’s going to stay for a while. None of that anger management bullshit, none of that counseling bullshit, and none of that community service. He does time. Do you understand?”

  “Most of that isn’t up to me,” Vanessa said. “I understand where you’re coming from, sir, but I’m still talking to your daughter. If you wouldn’t mind—”

  “Of course I mind,” Tanner said, his red face turning purple. “And you be sure to tell your boss that if Mike Bruin gets any special treatment, I will sue the department. And the town. You hear me? I am dead fucking serious. Your boss screwed my family over once. He’s sure as shit not doing it again.”

  “My boss?” Vanessa was confused. “If you mean Earl Schultz, he—”

  “You’re goddamned right I mean Schultz,” Tanner roared. He stepped all the way into the bedroom, and instantly the room felt smaller. He shook a sausage-sized finger in Vanessa’s face, and Glock or no Glock, it was all she could do not to shrink back. “His precious weasel of a stepson isn’t getting away with this, you hear me?”

  Vanessa looked at Jenna. “Your boyfriend is the chief of police’s stepson?”

  “I told you it was complicated.” The young woman burst into tears.

  “You never listen to me,” Tanner said to his daughter. “I told you that spoiled little rich kid was no good for you. And I talked to Debbie. She told me this isn’t the first time. How could you not tell me? How could you keep seeing him? Have I not taught you better? How could you think you deserved this?” His voice cracked at the end, and he took a few deep breaths.

  “I love him, Daddy.” Jenna’s voice was small, and then she burst into tears again.

  What a goddamned mess, Vanessa thought. Earl Schultz’s stepson had assaulted Jenna Wilkins. It explained why Mike Bruin hadn’t been cuffed and in the police car when they’d arrived, and why she’d been called to the clubhouse to take care of what was basically your average, everyday domestic violence call. Nobody wanted to be the one who arrested the chief of police’s stepson. It also explained why Mayor Frank Greenberg had agreed to recommend her for this job—an outsider was the only hope he had of achieving any balance inside Seaside PD. It all made sense.

  Wilkins seemed torn between comforting his daughter and yelling at the girl some more. Changing his mind about doing either, he instead directed his fury back to Vanessa. “You listen to me, Deputy. I’m tired of how things are done in this fucking town. We finally voted in a new mayor because a lot of people—good, tax-paying people who were here even way back when the town was falling apart—feel the way I do, and want to see things change. This has got to stop, do you hear me? The department cannot continue to cherry pick the cases they decide to work. Schultz isn’t going to make this go away, like he did with my son. Enough is enough.”

  “Your son?”

  “Daddy, stop,” Jenna said quietly. “Please.”

  “My son, Tyler.” Tanner’s jaw was clenched. “He went missing, eight years ago. Earl Schultz has done shit to find him, said Tyler probably ran away.” He slumped, his shoulders rolling forward. “Do you know what it’s like, year after year, not knowing where your son is? Not knowing whether he’s dead or alive? And now my daughter’s been assaulted? I don’t give a flying fuck if Mike Bruin’s mother is married to the chief of police. I want him arrested, charged, and convicted. I need justice for at least one of my kids. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

  Another missing boy? The timeline wasn’t right for Tanner Wilkins’s son to be Homeless Harry, but two missing boys, even if their disappearances were five years apart, felt like way too many. And if it turned out that Blake Dozier, the Wonder Wheel Kid, was missing, too, then three was bordering on ridiculous.

  What the hell was going on in Seaside?

  “First of all, you need to take a step back,” Vanessa said to him. “I don’t do well when I’m cornered, and I don’t like being yelled at. Second, I’m new here. I don’t give a rat’s ass who Mike Bruin’s stepfather is. Jenna told me what happened, and we’re arresting him, don’t you worry about that. And I can promise you he won’t get any special treatment, not on my watch.”

  Wilkins eyed her, his posture relaxing slightly. He took a step back. “Fresh blood at Seaside PD.” There was a grudging note of respect in his voice. “About damn time.”

  “And I care about both your kids,” Vanessa said. “When all this is done, come talk to me about your son.”

  FIFTEEN

  The good news was that Mike Bruin had been booked on charges of assault and battery. The bad news was that he’d spent exactly three hours in a holding cell before promptly being released on ten thousand dollars’ bail.

  “Not to be a downer, but don’t be surprised if the charges disappear by the end of the week,” Donnie said. The detective was leaning against the doorway to her office. “He used his one phone call on his mom, which is why he was only in holding for, like, a minute. His family’s good friends with the judge. Earl plays golf with him every Saturday.”

  Vanessa motioned for him to come in. “Close the door,” she said. “I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. You didn’t see Jenna Wilkins’s face. She looks like she went three rounds with Joe Louis.”

  Donnie’s face was blank, and Vanessa had to laugh. “Manny Pacquiao?” she said, trying again.

  “Oh, right, boxing,” he said. “I get it.”

  “God, you’re a fetus.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help that I’m twenty-six and only now entering the prime of my life.” He grinned. “So you met Tanner, huh? I imagine that went . . . well.”

  “He was pretty scary, not going to lie. For one thing, he’s huge, and for another, he was enraged. That’s not a good combination. I pulled his file.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Tanner has a colorful past. I counted seventeen arrests for drugs, weapons, and assault spanning a twenty-year period. But nothing in the last eight years.”

  “Word is that he straightened up after Tyler went missing.”

  “He mentioned Tyler,” she said. “Do you realize that means two boys have gone missing from Seaside within five years? If it turns out Blake Dozier’s missing, too, that makes three in the past eight years. That’s crazy.”

  “Assuming the Wonder Wheel Kid’s actually missing,” Donnie said. “I’m still working on it. He might turn up. I’ve contacted some of his friends, and he’s done this kind of thing before. He always comes back.”

  “Let’s hope. So did you know Tanner’s son?”

  “Yeah. Tyler and I went to high school together. Worked at Wonderland at the same time, too, but we didn’t run in the same social circles.”

  “I know it was a long time ago, but what do you think happened to him?”

  “He just . . . disappeared.” Donnie rubbed his freshly clipped head. “I actually didn’t think much of it at first. This is Seaside, you know? It’s one thing to grow up here. That usually isn’t a choice. But it’s not uncommon for kids to bolt after high school. Most of my friends no longer live here. They went to college someplace else, and never came back.”
>
  “Yet you did.”

  The detective shrugged. “I had a girlfriend, fell in love, she wanted to stay here, that cemented it for me at the time. I went to PSSU, but I came home every summer. When I graduated, I applied to the police academy and got in. Eight weeks later, the department hired me. If that hadn’t happened, I might have left, too. Not a lot of career opportunities in Seaside unless you work at Wonderland, really. I can’t blame anyone for leaving. One day that might be me.”

  “What was your impression of Tyler? He strike you as the kind of kid who’d leave without saying goodbye?”

  “Hard to say. I mainly knew who he was because of his dad. Back then, Tanner was a scary motherfucker. The Devil’s Dukes was heavily into drugs and guns, and Tanner was a hard-core outlaw—”

  Vanessa’s intercom buzzed. “Deputy, Tanner Wilkins is here to see you.” The officer calling her from the reception area sounded almost apologetic. “Should I send him back?”

  Donnie raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil. Did we just summon him by talking about him?”

  “Smartass.” Vanessa pressed a button on the intercom. “Yes, I’ll see him. Thanks.”

  “Brace yourself.” Donnie pushed his chair out and stood up. “He probably heard that Mike Bruin is walking around, free. Tanner’s going to let you have it.”

  “He already did earlier. How much worse could it be? Do me a favor,” she said before the detective could leave. “Pull his son’s file for me. I want to look it over.”

  “That’s in the archives. I’ll have to dig for it. Can’t you ask Claire?” He grinned. “Kidding. I’ll go get it, might take me awhile, though.”

  “I’ll buy you a coffee. Thanks.”

  Donnie passed Tanner in the main area, and the two nodded politely to each other. A second later, the man was at her office door, looking even bigger and angrier than he had before at the clubhouse.

  Vanessa stood up and extended a hand. “Mr. Wilkins. Please come in.”