by David Stever
I was barefoot. They took my shoes and emptied my pockets. My phone and gun, gone. No car, either. The man, my anchor who saved my life, a very dead Lamar Shanks. A loose end. Talia eliminated the loose ends: Kenzie, Paul Ellison, Lamar. But somehow, she left me up to chance. Something stopped her from killing me. If I rolled off the cliff, maybe in her mind it was fate. If I survived, lucky me. Stan, I thought—he was the last loose end. Would she kill him, too? Or did she need his money? But if he transferred funds like he said, was he now disposable? No, I reminded myself; he and Katie were safe at the beach cottage.
I searched Lamar’s pockets. Empty. She was not going to make this easy for me. I struggled to my feet, my head spinning, and found an opening in the rickety snow fence that surrounded the quarry, and gingerly walked across the gravel, realizing I rarely went barefoot. More prayers, this time asking for a car to come along. Anything. I had no idea of the time. The moon was still high, so it had to be around midnight. Talia—she slipped me a mickey to get me out of the way. Did that confirm her transport of girls tonight?
I made it through the parking lot and I got to the road, and nothing. I sat on the pavement and waited. I stopped wearing a watch when I bought a smartphone. With my phone gone, I had no idea of the passing of time. I didn’t know whether I waited twenty minutes, or an hour. It sure seemed like an hour. Eventually I laid on my back and stared at the bright moon as it slowly moved across the black sky. Stars shone by the billions and it made me realize my insignificance. How many other beings were in the universe, gazing at these same stars?
Finally, a small vibration on my back. I related to the Indians who could put an ear to the earth and hear horses approaching. I sat up. Headlights appeared in the distance. Thank God. I prayed they would stop to help, but I also knew I was about to scare the hell out of the people in the car.
I jumped to the middle of the road and waved my arms. The car slowed, then stopped about thirty yards from me.
“I need help,” I yelled. “I am a private investigator and former police officer. Can you help me.” I kept my arms above my head and took a few steps toward the car. “Please, I need a ride to Port City.”
A female voice screamed, “Turn around and take me home now!”
“Wait, please, I am unarmed.” I pulled up my filthy white shirt to show I did not have a weapon. “I’m a private investigator and was drugged and dumped out here. I don’t mean to scare you. Can you take me back to the city?”
The car clicked into reverse and began an attempt to turn around on the narrow two-lane road.
“Wait, wait, please.” I ran to the driver’s window. “Can I at least use a phone? I am stranded out here. My name is John Delarosa, and I am a former detective. I swear.” I held my hands in the air.
Two teenagers were in the car, a guy and a girl, obviously headed to the quarry for some quality time in the moonlight.
The girl screamed again, “Tim, take me the fuck home, right now.”
“Please, can I use a phone? You can call for me. I’m sorry I scared you, but they took my phone, car, shoes, everything.”
The driver’s window slid down an inch.
The girl bordered on hysterical. “What are you doing? Let’s go, now. He’s lying and will fucking kill us. I told you I didn’t want to come out here.”
“I’m turning the car around,” he yelled back.
“I’m begging you, make a call for me. I won’t get in. Just make a call, please.”
His window went back up, and their voices went back and forth, hers drowning out his. The window opened a crack. “Dude, we need to go. Sorry, man.”
“Wait, have your girlfriend make the call. I am a private investigator. I was drugged and dumped out here. Have her call. She’ll see I am legit. I co-own a bar in town, McNally’s. Please, call my partner.”
The window went back up for a second, and then down again. “What’s the number?”
“Thank you. His name is Mike.” I recited the number, realizing his was the only one I remembered. All other numbers, including Katie’s, were programmed into my phone. The girl dialed her cell, and I prayed Mike would answer a call from an unfamiliar number.
He did, thank God.
She began to explain, then stopped and asked me my name. I told her and she went back to the phone. “He wants to talk to you.” She gave the phone to the kid and he passed it to me.
“Talia slipped me a mickey and dumped me at the old quarry. Everything is gone. Phone, gun, car. Please convince this fine young couple to give me a ride back to town.”
“No wonder you didn’t answer. I’ve been trying,” Mike said. “Let me talk to the girl.”
I handed the cell phone back in and she listened for a minute.
“Okay.” She hung up. “We will take you.”
The door unlocked, and I climbed in the backseat. “Thank you.”
“The guy on the phone said you’ll make it worth our while.”
“Yes, definitely. Thank you, and again, I am sorry if I scared you.”
“You did scare us. I fucking wet my pants,” she said.
“You did?” Tim said. “This is my dad’s car.”
“Shut up and don’t ever ask me out again.”
I gave him McNally’s address and he got the car turned around. I laid my head back, closed my eyes, and thanked God as my thoughts drifted to Lamar lying in the dirt.
44
The ride into town was silent for the most part. I learned the girl’s name was Madison from the two phone calls she made, until I explained she shouldn’t be telling friends about her experience because we didn’t want the bad guys to learn her name. That stopped her. I had Tim park in the alley behind McNally’s, where Mike was already waiting in his Jeep Wrangler. He climbed out when he spotted us.
“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Dude, we need to go.”
“No, I’ll be back in a minute. My friend is not going to allow you to leave anyhow.”
I jumped out of the car and hurried up the stairs to my condo, where I pulled on a pair of sneakers and a new T-shirt. I grabbed some money from my emergency cash in my nightstand.
Back in the alley, I handed the bills through the car window to Tim. “Two hundred.”
“Whoa, thanks.”
“Give her half. She earned it.”
He counted out her share. “Thanks,” she said.
“Here’s another hundred to detail the car. Remember, do not talk about tonight and never go to the quarry again. Too dangerous.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Tim said. “Thanks again.”
They drove off and Mike walked over. “You okay?”
“Not sure. Head is still spinning, but we need to go. The deal is going down, or they wouldn’t have tucked me away. I’m worried about Katie. Any word from Monica?”
“Nothing, but Katie has been calling all night because you did not respond.”
“She okay? I guess my phone is at the bottom of the quarry. With my gun and car.”
“Everything was jake the last time we talked.”
“Call her, please. Find out if she talked to Monica.”
“Here, you call.” He handed me his cell. “I’ll get you some water.”
“Great idea, thanks.” He went in McNally’s through the kitchen door as I dialed.
She picked up on the first ring. “Mike, what’s going on? Johnny is still not answering—”
“Slow down, it’s me. I’m with Mike. All quiet there?”
“Yeah, just worried, scared. What happened?”
“Talia had other plans for me tonight. I’ll explain later. Have you heard from Monica?”
“Yeah, she sent a text. Said she was on a case all day and was tired and headed home. That was a couple of hours ago.”
No way Mad Dog Mattson would send a message saying she was tired. Plus, she said she was assigned to this case only.
“Johnny? You there?”
I
paced around the alley. “Yeah. Did you tell her where you are?”
“Yes, she asked. I said I was here with Stan.”
“Okay, sit tight. Keep the lights off, the doors locked, and the gun with you. Take off the safety. I don’t have my phone, so call Mike with anything.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“We are headed your way as soon as we can. Only talk to me or Mike. Do not text Monica. Do not respond to any of her messages. We’ll stay in touch.”
I closed the phone.
“She okay?” Mike asked, as he came with two bottles of water.
“So far.” I gulped down the first one and the water revitalized me a bit. “I’m worried about Monica. We need to find her first, then head to the beach.”
“Ideas?”
“No.”
“All right, Detective. Start with what we know. Locations?”
“Talia’s apartment, which is location unknown, the airfield, and the warehouse. Anthony DeRenzo’s house. Katie has the address.”
“Warehouse is closest.”
“We’ll need to break in.”
Mike opened the garage door and grabbed some tools—a chisel, crowbar, hammer, a sledgehammer, a couple of flashlights—and threw them all in the back of his Jeep.
“I don’t have a weapon,” I said.
“Got you covered, partner. Let’s go.”
###
Two passes of the front of the one-story building that housed Entertainment Ventures showed no cars in the lot. We turned on the road that ran perpendicular to Commons Boulevard and drove past the left entrance to the rear of the building, then doubled back and parked. We cut the lights and sat for a few minutes in silence, hoping some activity would reveal itself. All quiet.
“Shall we.” Mike handed me a 9mm Ruger.
I nodded. We got out of the Jeep. He took his 12-gauge shotgun, Beulah, from its mount on the roll bar, and we grabbed the tools from the back.
The rear parking area was also empty. No vehicles at Gary’s Auto Body, and no activity at Amazing Graphics.
“Too quiet, partner.”
“Hope this is not a waste of time,” I said, “because I need to be at the beach with Katie and the unpredictable Stan.”
“You see any cameras?”
“No. Not surprised if they are moving people in and out of here. Wouldn’t want that on camera. Doubt an alarm, either.”
“Let’s go then.”
We stayed next to the outer wall of the building as we made our way to the back door of Entertainment Ventures. The door was heavy steel.
“Only one way, brother,” Mike said.
“Go for it. If they don’t know we are here, they will in a second.”
He handed me the shotgun and went to work, hammering the chisel between the door and the jamb, directly above the lock. He muscled it back and forth to create an opening large enough for the angled end of the crowbar. It took all two hundred and thirty of his Irish pounds, but on the third yank with the crowbar, the lock popped and the door swung opened. We both waited on the side of the door to avoid the gunfire, but nothing. All quiet.
We looked at each other, eyebrows up, not sure what to expect because we sure gave up the element of surprise.
He put a finger to his lips and took the first step into the cavernous warehouse. A moment later, he motioned for me.
We were both two steps into the darkness and stopped, listened. Silence. We clicked on the flashlights, then Mike held up a hand. “Wait, you hear that?” he whispered. “Listen.”
We stood, motionless.
“Who’s there? I need help.” A soft raspy voice, from the opposite end of the warehouse, but recognizable.
We said it together: “Monica.”
45
Inside the warehouse door was a living area with two sofas, a coffee table, and a television. Pizza boxes, fast-food wrappers, cups, and bags littered the table. The remnants of a recent meal. We aimed the flashlight beams farther into the space without regard to whomever could be waiting to mow us down. Three metal-framed beds lined the both walls, barracks style. Each bed had a small nightstand with a lamp, and carpeting covered the entire interior floor, so our footfalls were silent. After the third bed on the right were two racks of clothing, partitioning the room. On the other side of the clothes racks, our lights fell on another bed, this one with Monica strapped to it.
“Monica, it’s us, Johnny and Mike.”
She began to cry. “Oh, my God. How did…” Her voice was raspy, dry. “I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “I never thought…”
“Don’t talk,” I said. “We’re here, we got you.”
Heavy twine lashed each ankle to the metal foot board and each arm to the sides of the bedframe. And she was naked. The stench of stale urine from soiled sheets hung in the air. Mike grabbed a blanket from one of the other beds and threw it over her. Adjacent to her bed was a kitchenette and beyond that a bathroom. I snapped on the kitchen light and found a knife in a drawer.
I cut her free. “Slowly, now…try to sit up.”
“My knee.” Her right knee was twice the size of her left.
We helped her into a sitting position on the side of the bed. Mike filled a glass with water, and we had her take sips.
“Your dream come true,” she said, in a soft whisper. “Finally got to see me naked.”
“Yes, but in my dream, it happens after a bottle of wine and dinner,” I said.
“In mine, it happens in a cheap motel outside of town,” Mike added.
“I love you guys.” Her tears fell again. “Bathroom.” She stood, pulled the blanket around her, balanced on her left leg and used my shoulder as a crutch and slowly hopped her way to the bathroom.
“Her clothes?”
He looked around and shrugged. The racks held every type of article of clothing for girls, plus the wall was lined with shelves full of shoes, purses, makeup, and cosmetics. Another unit had electronics, phones, tablets, and laptops. I picked out sweatpants and a T-shirt I thought would fit.
I knocked on the bathroom door. “You okay? I found some clothes.” The door cracked opened and I handed them in.
“Give me a minute,” she said. “Trying to get cleaned up.”
“Take your time,” I said, extremely happy we found her, but also eager to be with Katie at the cottage.
“You see this place?” Mike scanned the inside of the warehouse, now converted to a living quarters, with his flashlight. “They must house girls here while getting them adjusted.” He shined the light on the wood paneled wall, which had a design of perforations in it. “Soundproofing. The holes in the panels deaden the sound. They could keep girls here for weeks and never be detected.”
A bang on the steel door. We clicked off our flashlights and dropped to the floor. The bathroom door opened behind us and light spilled into the area as Monica hobbled out, moving slowly, massaging her wrists. “Some mad dog, huh…?” The darkness stopped her. “Guys?”
The light backlit her and made her an easy target. “Take cover.” I said. I slid from my spot by the clothes rack and pulled her down beside me. We stayed motionless and silent for a full two minutes, until the door clanged again.
“Could be the wind,” Mike said. “I’ll go.” He moved to the door in the dark and stepped outside, Beulah first. He ducked back in and did his best to secure the door closed with a now bent frame. “We should go.”
I helped Monica up and plopped her on one of the beds while I took a pair of slip-on sneakers off the shelf for her. This place had Talia’s mark all over it. The clothes all came from high-end department stores. No bargain-basement stuff for her.
“How long have you been here?”
“All day,” she said. “Bill Davis called me this morning, said he had information, but only for me. Said he knew who I was and told me not to tell you. I was curious. I get to the airfield, and the next thing I know, my knee is whacked, and I am on the ground. Jumped from behind…some other guy who looks l
ike Davis.”
“His brother, Jacob.”
“Then a rag over my mouth, ether maybe, and I go out. Woke up here tied to the bed. Not sure why they just didn’t kill me.”
Mike joined us. “They did—you would have been dead in two days.”
“They wanted to humiliate me. Girls were here—four, I think, plus Talia and Dee Dee. They gave them food and clothes.”
“Earlier tonight?”
“Yeah. They took turns taking a shower and as each one walked past me, she would stop and stare. I don’t speak Spanish, but I think I was the example of what happens when you disobey. I can’t believe you guys…I never thought anyone would find me…knee is killing me…I need something, juice. What time is it?”
“After two.” Mike hustled off to the kitchen.
“They sent text messages to Katie from your phone. She is with Stan at my beach place. I wanted them out of sight tonight, but now I’m not so sure.”
“We need to go,” she said. “I have facial recognition on my phone as the password. What a mistake that was.”
“You need a hospital, and we only have one vehicle.”
She shook her head.
Mike got back with orange juice, which she gulped down, and two protein bars, and a bottle of pills. “Take some of these,” he said, “for the swelling.”
She swallowed a few. “Thanks. Let’s go. We’ll have time for my knee later.” Neither Mike nor I moved, both of us deciding what we should do. “Now,” she yelled.
He jumped up. “I’m going for my Jeep, it will be quicker than carrying you.” He tucked his shotgun under his arm as he ran out.
“Where’s your car?” she asked.
“You weren’t the only one they wanted out of the way tonight.”
She grabbed my hand. “At least we are still breathing.”
46
“This is Detective Mattson. Roll a unit to the old quarry, report of a dead body. Right, Spring Hollow Road.”
