Poaching Grounds: A gripping psychological crime thriller (Carolina McKay Thriller Book 4)

by Tony Urban

  “Your wife, soon to be ex-wife, hired me. I hope you’re ready to pony up because I see a very lopsided divorce settlement in your future.” Carolina tapped the camera, beaming with self-satisfaction. “Smile! You’re on camera.”

  In a flash his childlike face transformed into fury. He moved with shocking speed for a man his size, closing the distance between his car and her van in a few lumbering strides.

  “Fuck you, whore,” he said, lunging for her.

  He reached for Carolina, ready to grab at her throat, but he was messing with the wrong woman. She wasn’t some back-alley prostitute who’d grown accustomed to taking beatings. She was a fighter, and she’d gone toe to toe against far more formidable opponents.

  She snatched his thick wrist and twisted his arm hard, shoving it behind his back, then wrenched it upward. Herbie yelped in shock or pain or both and Carolina yanked it again, certain she was dislocating his shoulder. With all the fight gone from him, she shoved him forward, slamming his head against the rear quarter-panel of the van before releasing him.

  Dazed, the now-freed man stumbled away from her, catching his foot on the curb and landing awkwardly on what passed for a sidewalk. He stared up at her, woozy and scared.

  She enjoyed that look.

  Chapter Three

  Carolina sat in front of a half-eaten plate of food. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a few remnants of limp bacon. The overcooked eggs were dry and the bread far too charred for her liking. She grabbed the last scrap of bacon from her plate and shoved it into her mouth, chewing a few extra times to combat its rubbery texture before forcing it down.

  “The food was better in rehab,” she said, then took a slug of orange juice and swished it around her mouth before swallowing.

  Bea set down her cup of coffee and examined Carolina from across the kitchen table. Carolina knew she was being a brat, but she so enjoyed the snark. Especially during a normal, no frills, family-type setting.

  She glanced to her right where Elven Hallie munched on a piece of blackened toast while trying to conceal a shit-eating grin. He wore his Sheriff uniform and was fastidious about brushing away every fallen crumb before it could stain.

  Wednesday breakfasts at Bea’s had become his routine of late. He’d picked up the tradition from Lester, but Carolina knew it wasn’t for the same reasons. At least, dear God, she hoped not. The mental image of Elven and her mother doing the dirty in the upstairs bedroom was enough to make her want to grab her butter knife and carve out her eyes.

  “Well, I’d hope they fed you well. For six thousand dollars a month, I’d be quite distressed to learn you were eating like a hobo. Or should I say, like you usually do,” Bea said, licking her teeth.

  Elven damned near choked on his toast trying to hold back a laugh.

  “She’s never going to let me live that down, is she?” Carolina asked.

  Elven pleaded the fifth by miming a full mouth, then covering it with his napkin.

  Carolina readjusted herself in her chair, sitting more upright. She was going to shoot something back, something extra snarky, but her mother was right. Rehab was expensive. Awful, too, but she knew she was more fortunate than most. And the end result was worth it.

  She would have to let her mother win this round…for now.

  “You know, I’ll pay you back. Business is really picking up,” Carolina settled on. It wasn’t the witty retort she wanted to give, but she felt obligated to say something.

  “Nothing to trouble yourself over,” Bea said with a dramatic sigh. “I’m on the threshold of becoming elderly. I’m sure I won’t have any need for money when I’m aged and decrepit.”

  Elven had swallowed his burnt toast in time to chime in. “If you need help with the bill, I can—“

  Carolina cleared her throat curtly, cutting him off. “We all know how this will go if you finish that sentence,” Carolina said. “I can pay my own way. I don’t require handouts from the Hallie Family Trust.”

  Elven tipped his head. “Fair enough.”

  She thought Elven would have known better, but he was as cocksure as she was stubborn. Thinking he was going to swoop in and take care of her needs, playing the hero. She would have to give him shit about this exchange later.

  “Let’s just change the subject, shall we?” Carolina said, looking around the room, trying to find something to use as a conversation starter. Her mother’s house had always been a mix of feelings. Many, maybe most, of them bad. As much as she’d like to lay all the blame at Bea’s feet, she knew she wasn’t a perfect daughter.

  But there were good memories, too. Especially in the porcelain bird figurines which cluttered almost every shelf and reminded her of their birdwatching trips back when Carolina was not too cool to be seen with her mother.

  In the empty seat at the head of the table, she could still see Lester. The thought of him made her throat tighten and tears threatened to burst.

  Maybe her mother saw it coming because Bea spoke up just in time.

  “You were late coming home last night. And from what I saw, dressed like a common trollop.” Even when Bea was saving the day, she found a way to sneak in a dig.

  “I was working.”

  Bea narrowed her eyes in skepticism. “A highly unorthodox uniform, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t,” Carolina said.

  Bea turned to Elven. “Tell me, Elven, are you aware of any jobs that don’t require a shirt?”

  Elven raised his eyebrows, interest piqued. “I might be able to conjure up one or two.”

  Carolina held up her hand in a don’t you start motion. “I was undercover.”

  “Looked more like you were barely covered,” Bea said.

  Carolina twisted her face into a scowl.

  Elven’s chuckle upgraded to a full laugh. “I must say, it seems a shame to have missed that,” he said, shooting her a wink.

  Carolina was ready to smack him on the arm, or maybe stab him with her fork. No matter how charming he might think himself, she wasn’t about to let him fantasize about her scantily-clad figure.

  “Isn’t it time for you to be moving on, Sheriff?” Carolina asked. “You have a county to protect. You and that little tart of a new deputy I’ve been hearing about.”

  Elven shifted his gaze from Carolina to Bea, who dodged his gaze by jumping to her feet and beginning to gather the dishes. Unable to hold Bea to account, he turned back to the younger woman. “Don’t be jealous, now. That could have been you holding the ‘tart of a deputy’ moniker if you hadn’t been so prideful.”

  Carolina grunted, annoyed to be everyone’s kicking post this morning. Since getting off the Oxy, she’d felt a step slower and that annoyed her even more than the pain that chewed incessantly in her shoulder. To distract herself, she helped Bea by scooping up the used silverware. “I don’t know why I participate in these breakfasts with the two of you. It certainly isn’t for the company.”

  Elven pushed his chair away from the table. “Don’t be cross now. We tease because we love,” he said, standing and brushing invisible debris from his shirt front. “Beatrice, thank you for a fine breakfast.”

  “Elven Hallie, you are welcome in this house any time,” Bea said with a glowing smile and Elven gave her a peck on the cheek as he headed to the door.

  Carolina couldn’t help but think that her mother was kinder to him than she was to her own daughter. She’d never admit it, but there might be a little jealousy there.

  Elven opened the door, but before he could set foot outside, Yeti, his white, Great Pyrenees dog ran inside the house. Yeti ran to Carolina and her mood, which had been turning foul, took an uptick.

  Yeti had been Lester’s dog, then hers for a hot second. But a van was no home for a huge canine. Partly through time and partly through osmosis, the animal had come to belong to Elven. It was better for everyone that way, and Yeti seemed happy.

  Nonetheless, she loved seeing him every chance she got, and the feeling was mutual.

  “Co
me here, boy,” Carolina said, holding her arms out.

  Yeti sprinted toward her, but instead of going for Carolina’s open palms to be petted and scratched, he ran past, stood on his hind legs, and shoved his face on Carolina’s plate, gobbling up every scrap of remaining food before anyone could stop him.

  “Oh heavens!” Bea squealed. “Get that dog out of my kitchen!”

  Elven broke into a loud chortle as he tried to corral the animal, which had moved on from Carolina’s plate to a serving tray of leftover bacon. His huge, muddy paws left brown stains all across Bea’s white tablecloth and Carolina was so delighted she joined in on the laughter.

  Cue the catchy 80s sitcom music, she thought.

  Carolina could hardly stand how happy everyone was.

  Herself included.

  Chapter Four

  The drive to D’s Steakhouse in Huntington was further than Carolina felt like traveling after a long night with little sleep. But Karen Hutzell, Herbie’s soon-to-be ex-wife, was a well-paying client. When she suggested the meeting place, Carolina wasn’t in a position to argue.

  Besides, the alternative was making Karen drive to Dupray with its one diner and the town’s overwhelming sense of despair. Carolina didn’t want her hometown’s charm, or lack thereof, to drag at her like a yoke. After the year she’d had, a long drive in her van gave her ample time to think about a future she’d never planned for nor expected to live.

  Her newfound sobriety had left her feeling like anything was possible, but also a little anxious. Fatalism had its perks. Optimism…she was still working on that.

  Upon arriving at the restaurant and taking in the glass and black stainless-steel facade, its ultra-modern, high end design, she felt outclassed and underdressed. In other words, her usual.

  She toted a messy stack of folders and papers under her arm as she scanned the sparsely patronized steakhouse and found Karen Hutzell sitting alone at a corner table. Clad in a power suit, her black hair, halfway to gray and pulled into a perfect bun, she’d been preoccupied by her tablet, but looked up as Carolina approached.

  Karen stood, smiling pleasantly as Carolina reached the table. “Thank you for meeting me here,” she said, wrapping Carolina in a quick hug before she could protest. It was followed by a birdish peck on the corner of her mouth.

  Carolina had seldom felt more violated in her life. She was a woman who treasured personal space. Karen Hutzell, with her diamond earrings and matching tennis bracelet, designer clothes and thousand-dollar shoes, looked as superficial and fake as a New York City socialite. The type of woman whom Carolina would look at and imagine having the depth of a pothole.

  But despite the outer appearance, Karen had been nothing but kind and welcoming to Carolina. Even though she was nothing more than hired help, Karen treated her like family.

  Carolina took the empty chair on the other side of the table, ready to dive into her spiel, only to be interrupted by a tall, slender waiter. He wore a tie and sported perfectly manicured stubble. With a professional smile, he set a plate in front of Carolina without a word then retreated into the shadows of the dimly-lit restaurant.

  “I took the liberty of ordering you a steak,” Karen said with a smile. “You didn’t seem like the salad type, no offense.”

  “None taken,” Carolina said, examining the cut of meat.

  “It’s Kobe beef. Have you had it before?” Karen asked.

  “Sure,” Carolina lied, not wanting to let on that such luxuries were far out of reach on a city cop’s salary. And even further out for an OxyOxy addict.

  “It’s divine.” Karen said, cutting off a slice of her own steak, which was nearly finished. “Sorry I couldn’t wait for you. As soon as we’re finished, I’m off to my lawyer’s.”

  “I understand.” After the poor excuse for a breakfast, Carolina was eager to dig in. The knife glided through the meat, blood and juices flooding her plate. She stared down at it for a moment, watching it ebb like incoming tide.

  “Oh, damn,” Karen said. “I messed it up, didn’t I? Too rare? Send it back and I’ll get you another.”

  Carolina shook her head. She quickly stuffed a generous bite into her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring every bit of the flavor. Divine was an understatement.

  “Don’t you dare take this away from me,” Carolina finally said, mouth full. “It’s perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

  Karen gave a satisfied nod. “A woman after my own heart.” She set aside her knife and fork, eager to get on with it. “So, what do you have for me? Don’t hold back.”

  Carolina finished chewing and swallowed her Kobe beef, making a mental note to tell Bea and rub it in. She grabbed a manilla folder from the stack and slid it across the table to Karen, who flipped it open.

  Inside was an assortment of papers. Carolina’s daily logs. Interviews with Darlene and a few other sex workers Herbie had frequented. A plethora of receipts.

  But the good stuff wasn’t on paper. It was on a flash drive which Carolina held between her thumb and index fingers.

  “The file contains all the minutia. But this is the money maker.” She handed it to Karen, who raised an eyebrow.

  “And what’s on here?”

  “Video and audio of him propositioning me. And the ensuing scuffle.”

  “Scuffle?” Karen asked.

  Carolina nodded. “He puts on a good innocent act, but when he gets his hand caught in the cookie jar, he reacts poorly.”

  Karen’s eyes widened as she examined Carolina for injuries. “Are you all right?”

  Carolina chuckled. “Oh, I’m fine. He had to have his nose reset, though.”

  Karen laughed out loud. So loud that the balding sommelier gave them both a look from across the restaurant. “Oh my God, Carolina. You are worth every penny. This asshole is going to rue the day he ever cheated on me.”

  “I’m sorry about your marriage,” Carolina offered, but wasn’t sure if she meant it. Affairs of the heart were largely foreign to her, and she struggled to understand why anyone put themselves through it or expected to get their Happily Ever After.

  “Oh Carolina, don’t be. I knew this was going on, I’ve known for years. But I couldn’t prove it. Now, thanks to you, I have him by the balls and I can get out, pocketbook unscathed. Speaking of…” She pulled out an envelope and slid it across the table. “There’s your fee. And I put a tip on top of that. You more than earned it.”

  Carolina opened the envelope, seeing a handwritten check inside. She fought back the temptation to drop her jaw. The tip was more than the fee itself.

  “Thank you,” Carolina said when she got over the shock and was able to speak again.

  “No, thank you,” Karen said. “Now, I’m sorry to have to run, but I’ve put my card down as payment for the meal, so feel free to enjoy yourself. And have a drink or three while you’re at it.”

  She stood and Carolina did the same. Another hug followed. Another kiss on the cheek too. But Carolina didn’t mind. When there was a boatload of money burning a hole in her pocket, tolerating niceties wasn’t so bad.

  She retook her seat, watching Karen leave, then turned back to her steak. She’d been conducting business via phone and some random coffee shops, but now an actual office might be in her future. It all sounded so…professional.

  And intimidating.

  She gave her head a shake, pushing away the negative voice in her head, the one that told her she would never be quite good enough. The voice that sounded oddly similar to her mother’s. There would be time for those thoughts later. Right now, she had a very expensive piece of beef that desperately needed eating.

  But she passed on the drinks and settled on water instead.

  Chapter Five

  Carolina’s abdomen bulged with the half-digested meat. The meal had been amazing, and the staff was actually pleasant to her, not judgmental like she would have expected in such an upscale establishment. In the past, she would have probably ruffled some feathers, flaunting h
er blue-collar roots and her sour attitude and making sure they all knew they weren’t superior to her.

  Being sober, life’s little stresses didn’t hit as hard. Sure, she still lived in her van, took some grief from her mother about the money spent on her stay in rehab, and had to swallow her pride occasionally around someone like Elven. She had her share of amends yet to make too, but that would come with time.

  Somehow, she was beginning to like herself. And, for the first time in a very long time, she enjoyed being alive.

  She’d just dropped into the driver’s seat when her flip phone gave its tuneless ring. Usually she let calls - most of which were telemarketers, scam artists, or her mother - go straight to voicemail, but fresh off a successful job she was full of optimism. Shocking, even to her.

  “CM Investigations.”

  The honking sound of someone blowing their nose greeted her. Then came a sniffle and, “McKay?” It was a man’s voice, an unfamiliar one at that.

  “Who is this?”

  Another sniffle, this one accompanied by a brief chuckle. “Well shit. You don’t recognize your old partner’s voice when you hear it?”

  Old partner? Her mind immediately went to her days with the Baltimore Police, to her partner at the time that everything went to hell. That had been Johnny DeSmith, but this wasn’t his voice. Before she could flip the calendar pages back further, the man spoke again.

  “Guess you don’t,” he said with a hint of anger. “After the shit you pulled, I should haunt your dreams.”

  With the fake good cheer replaced by resentment, she immediately connected the dots. “Hank Kolazarek,” she said.

  “The one and only,” he said, still audibly pissed off.

  The man had been her very first partner on Baltimore P.D., back when she was a rookie beat cop. Back then, she had expected to form a rewarding mentor/apprentice relationship like she saw in the movies. Reality was far less fulfilling.