by Sean Black
Still lightheaded, she closed her eyes. Slowly, she began to drift off.
Next thing she knew, the room filled with the sound of a woman screaming. The scream seemed to come from all directions.
Kristin opened her eyes. It was still dark, then suddenly the screen lit up, and a movie started to play.
There was a young girl. She was around the same age as Kristin, and she had long blonde hair. She was tied down on a bed. It was the same bed as the one Kristin was lying on right now, but the girl on screen had her wrists and ankles tied to the frame and she was naked.
She was screaming, stopping only to take a breath so that she could scream again. Her whole body shook. She wrenched at her restraints, but she couldn’t seem to free herself.
Kristin started to sit up as the scream from the speakers got louder and louder. On screen a man appeared. He was old and wrinkled and naked apart from a mask.
Even without seeing the man’s face, she knew who he was. It was the man who lived here, the man whose basement she was in.
67
Lock tapped the tablet with his fingers, willing his phone to light up with a call from Andre. Ty was finishing a second serving of apple pie and ice cream as Lock stared into his cup of coffee.
“He’s still got an hour,” said Ty.
“Let’s go check the apartment, see if he’s back there,” said Lock, getting up from the table.
Ty scooped up the last piece of pie, then hurried to catch up with Lock as he headed to the cash register to pay.
They got into the car and drove the short distance to the apartment building. The cops were gone. Lock buzzed the original apartment number they’d been given by Andre. He explained to the old guy who answered that he was the person he’d spoken with earlier. After complaining that he was watching TV, the old guy buzzed them in.
The elderly neighbor was waiting for them out in the hallway by the time they stepped out of the elevator. Crime scene tape was splayed across the door of the apartment where Lock had found Soothe.
“Would you look at this mess?” said the old guy. “Who’s going to clean it up?”
“Building maintenance should take care of it once they get the okay from Metro,” said Lock.
“Those bums,” said the old guy with a dismissive wave. “They never fix anything in this place. They take their money though, they’re real good at that.”
Ty was busy scoping out the inside of the apartment as Lock spoke with the neighbor.
“Has anyone been inside? Apart from the cops,” said Lock.
“Nah, ain’t seen the guy if that’s what you’re asking.”
“If you see him, call me. Okay?”
The old guy’s hand came up from inside the door frame. He was holding a .38 revolver. “I’ll do better than that.”
“Listen to me, this is a very dangerous individual,” said Lock. “Call me, call the cops, but keep away from him.”
Ty stepped back out into the corridor. “It’s clear.”
“Remember what I said,” Lock told the old guy as they walked back down the corridor.
“Sure, sure,” said the old guy dismissively as his wife appeared, admonishing him for having the gun out.
As they got back to the car, the call came from Andre. Lock answered it.
“What you got?”
“Don’t get pissed, okay?” said Andre. “He’s not answering his phone. I tried all the numbers I have for him, left messages, but nothing so far.”
“Then keep trying. Time’s ticking away.”
“What do you think I’m doing? Listen, I know there are a few places he likes to drop by when he’s in Vegas, a couple of places where he likes to play poker.”
“Okay," said Lock, figuring that this information was better than nothing.
Lock put Andre on speaker. As he ran down the list of places, Ty tapped them into his phone. Two were casinos, smaller places off the strip. The third was a private room in the back of a bar near the Tropicana.
“Be careful going in there,” said Andre. “It’s all guys like Hanger, and they don’t always play for money.”
“What does that mean?” asked Lock.
“Sometimes they wager one of their hoes.”
Of course they do, thought Lock. If there was a level of depravity that human beings weren’t capable of sinking to, he hadn’t yet found it.
“So, if you find him, we’re good, right?” said Andre.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just keep making the calls,” said Lock, hanging up.
“How do you want to do this?” asked Ty. “Split the casinos between us and meet at the last place?”
“That works. You drop me at the first place. If none of them pan out, then we make a sweep of the main tracks, see if we can spot Kristin on the street.”
“You think he’s telling us the truth?” Ty asked.
Lock shrugged. “There’s no way to know, but it’s not like we have anything else to work with. I can call Jenny and ask her to do another trawl of local online ads, see if anything pops, but what else have we got?”
“True,” said Ty, pensive.
“What is it? Something’s bothering you.”
“Come on, Ryan, backroom of a bar with a high stakes poker game. That’s as good a place to get shot as anywhere I can think of.”
68
The Lizard Lounge stood on Industrial Road. It was a 24/7 dive bar with a claim to fame that it had only closed once in the past twenty-five years and only then to allow for the cleanup of a triple homicide that had taken place in the main bar area.
There had been a couple of other murders since then, but as they had taken place in one of the bar’s back rooms, the management had not deemed it necessary to stop serving drinks while those were cleaned up. Alongside the homicides there had been numerous shootings, stabbings and beatings. No one knew why it still retained its liquor license, but the suspicion was that the cops preferred having most of the city’s worst degenerates concentrated in the one place.
Lock and Ty stood across the street from the bar and weighed up their approach. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you could go in and wave around a photograph with a breezy “Hey, have any of you fellas seen this guy?”. Not unless you were prepared to pay for some dental work.
A trawl of the two casinos that Andre had suggested had turned up no sign of either Hanger or Kristin. That only left The Lizard Lounge.
“I’ll go in, take a look,” volunteered Ty.
That made sense to Lock. For better or worse, Ty would blend in better than he would.
“If you see him, message me, and we’ll figure out how we get him out of there.”
“Roger that,” said Ty.
Lock watched as Ty walked across the street. As he stepped off the sidewalk, Lock observed his partner’s gait shift from a shoulders back, head straight stance to more of a gauche roll. Lock figured he was getting into character.
Ty walked past the two hulking bikers posted at the door and disappeared inside. Lock walked back to the car and got inside, ready to swing over and collect Ty if he needed to make a fast exit.
Inside, the place was suitably dark. Ty took a seat and ordered a Scotch with a water back. As the bartender fixed his drink, he scoped the place out in the mirror that ran the length of the bar. There was no sign of Hanger.
The bartender placed his Scotch and water on the bar. Ty feigned taking a sip of the whisky and followed it up with a real sip of the water.
There were two ways he could do this, the right way and the wrong way. He could ask if they had a poker game going on in back. As no one had ever seen him here before, that would be the wrong way.
Instead, he waited a few minutes, grimaced as he slid off his stool and asked the bartender to point him in the direction of the men’s room. In a place like this, it was better to be a guy with a thirst and a middle-aged prostate than a guy who came in asking questions.
Moseying down the corridor to the bathroom, he
kept walking as he got to it. He kept moving, down past the women’s restroom. A sign on it read BITCHES, presumably to match the sign on the men’s room that read PLAYERS.
He opened the next door. It was a closet full of cleaning supplies and dry goods. He closed it again as someone came out of the men’s room. They didn’t give him so much as a second glance.
Turning a corner, there were two doors, one to the left and one to the right. He could hear voices behind the door on the right. Suddenly he started to doubt his plan of not asking the bartender. Walking through a closed door into an illegal card game wasn’t the smartest thing to do, especially when no one inside knew who the hell you were. Then again, there was no other way of telling if Hanger was inside. Or was there?
Ty walked up to the door and knocked.
“Yo, is Hanger in there?” he said, loud enough that those inside would be able to hear.
He stepped off to the side and waited. The chat inside fell away a little.
There was the sound of a chair being pushed back. The door opened a few inches and a short, overweight black guy peered out. He stared at Ty with yellow, liver-failure eyes.
“Some dude’s out front looking for Hanger,” he said.
The guy wasn’t buying it. Ty could tell that much from the man’s expression. He looked over the top of the man’s head, trying to get a view of who was inside.
“Get the fuck out of here,” the short guy said, closing the door, but not before Ty picked out a white guy with cornrows sitting at the card table with his back to the door.
Outside, Lock watched Ty come out of the bar and stroll nonchalantly across the street. He walked down to their car and got in.
“He’s in a back room playing cards, just like Andre said he might be.”
“You’re sure?” asked Lock.
“Only saw him from the back, but yeah, I think it’s him. I couldn’t exactly ask everyone to stand up and turn around so I could get a look at them.”
“How many in the room?”
“Seven or eight,” said Ty. “I’d say they’re all packing too.”
Lock took a moment.
“Any sign of the girl?”
“None.”
Lock cursed under his breath. It would be easier to go grab a ninety pound teenager than haul a full grown man out of there, even with firearms.
They could call the cops. He had Adorno’s details, and he was sure she’d be delighted to arrest Hanger. But there was one problem with that. The first thing Hanger would do would be to lawyer up. As soon as he figured that he had something that they wanted, he could use Kristin as collateral.
Lock had no intention of handing Hanger any kind of power. Not when they still had no idea where Kristin was.
“What if we would use some kind of distraction?” said Ty.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, fire alarm, something that will get him out on the street.”
“You think those guys are going to leave their game for a fire alarm?” said Lock.
“Point taken,” said Ty.
Ty had something, though. It would be one hell of a lot easier to grab hold of Hanger if he was outside. A fire alarm might not do it, but he knew something that would.
He grabbed his cell phone and found the number for Adorno’s unit.
“It’s Lock,” he said when she answered. “I found our boy. I thought you and your colleagues might like to swing by and pick him up.”
“Oh yeah, where he is?” she asked.
He told her.
“You might want to bring some numbers,” he added.
“Don’t worry, every cop in Vegas knows what to expect going in there.”
“How fast can you make it here?” asked Lock. “We’re not sure how long he’s going to be here for.”
“Give me a half hour. If you see him leave before then, lemme know.”
“You got it,” said Lock.
“We’re giving him to the cops?” asked Ty when Lock had finished the call.
“No, he’s going to give himself to us,” said Lock.
Twenty-five minutes later, they watched as Adorno’s car rolled down Industrial Avenue. Tucked in behind her was a mini-convoy of LVMPD vehicles, including three patrol cars and a SWAT unit.
Hanger hadn’t left the bar. He was no doubt still hunkered in the back room with no idea his life was about to change.
Ty was already posted at the back of the Lizard Lounge. Lock pulled out, drove to the end of the block, turned and parked next to the alleyway. He could see Ty standing halfway down the alley, tucked in against the wall, waiting for the rats to start leaving the sinking ship.
Lock texted Ty the signal. He watched as Ty walked up to the service entrance at the back of the building, hammered his fist against it and began shouting.
There was the first whoop of sirens from out front. The door opened and a motley crowd of people started spilling out as a patrol car tore down from the other end of the alleyway.
Hanger was one of the first out. Wild-eyed, he saw the patrol heading straight for him as the scene descended into chaos. He started running in the opposite direction, heading straight for Lock.
Ty ran behind him, almost on his heels, staying just a few yards behind him. As they got closer to Lock’s car, Lock scooted down in his seat so that Hanger wouldn’t see him as he ran up to the car.
A second later, the car’s rear passenger door was flung open. Lock could hear Ty’s voice.
“Get in, dude, quick. Hanger half jumped and was half pushed by Ty into the back seat. Ty closed the door. Lock hit the central locking, sat up in his seat and pulled away.
In the back seat, Hanger looked around. He grabbed for the opposite door. Ty grabbed both his wrists, slipping the loop of a PlastiCuff over one then another and cinching them tight as the car picked up speed.
They hit the end of the block and Lock accelerated. He checked his mirrors, half expecting to see a patrol car tucked in behind him.
His cell phone rang. He tapped the answer icon. It was Adorno. She sounded out of breath.
“Did you see him? I thought you said he hadn’t left. Where are you?”
Her words spilled out in a rush, all the reassurance that Lock needed that they hadn’t been spotted.
Hanger started to speak. Ty clamped a hand across his mouth.
“That’s the cops, dude,” said Ty, nodding to Lock’s cell.
“We didn’t see him leave. We pulled out when we saw you arrive,” said Lock. “Are you positive he’s not there?”
There was the sound of commotion in the background. Adorno was speaking to someone else. “Well, go check again.”
A patrol car sped towards them. Ty shoved Hanger’s head down and ducked down himself. It kept going.
Adorno started to speak again.
“What?” said Lock. “I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”
He hung up on her.
Ty had his hand clamped around the back of Hanger’s neck, pushing his face into the seat so hard that he was having trouble breathing. Finally, Ty let him up.
Hanger looked at Lock. There was fear in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” said Hanger.
Lock stared at him in the rearview as the sound of the sirens began to fall away.
“Hey, Carl, you ever hear the expression jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire? Well, we’re the fire. But don’t you worry, we’ll throw you back into the frying pan just as soon as you take us to Kristin Miller.”
69
Kristin woke to darkness. A cold breeze from an air-conditioning vent somewhere above told her she was naked, although she had no memory of getting undressed or being undressed. Her mouth was paper dry, so dry that she almost had to peel her tongue from the roof.
Slowly, the images she had watched on the screen drifted back into her mind. The girl’s face twisted with pain. The knifes and clamps and other instruments. The old man, naked and covered in blood, as he s
tood over her.
Kristin shivered again, but this time the cold air had nothing to do with it. She went to sit up, but couldn’t, and remembered the restraints.
She craned her neck, lifting her head to look down. Her legs had been shackled, each one secured to the corner of the bed so that she was completely exposed.
The door opened. She could hear someone come in, but she couldn’t see them. She stayed quiet and waited.
There was the sound of someone breathing heavily, wheezing almost. A metal trolley rolled across the bottom of the bed and came to a stop, a pair of hands pushing it.
She lifted her head and tried to get a better look. As she saw all the shiny metal items laid out on it, she wished she hadn’t. She closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again, she would be back home, or even in the apartment in LA with Soothe, anywhere but here.
She startled as she felt a hand, cold and clammy on her forehead. It was him.
“It’s better if you keep your eyes open, my dear. If you don’t, then I’ll be forced to use lid-locks to keep them open and they can be extremely uncomfortable. They scratch the cornea, you see.”
“Why are you doing this?” she blurted out.
He didn’t answer, not straight away. His hand stroked the top of her head.
“Why do any of us do anything?” he said. “Because we enjoy it.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Am I going to kill you?” he repeated, in a whisper that sent a fresh shiver down her body. “No, not just yet. First, we’re going to have some fun together. I’m going to take you places, places most people never get to go.”
70
Lock’s car bumped along the dusty desert track less than an hour outside Las Vegas. When he was content that no one would be able to see them from the freeway, he pulled over. He and Ty got out.
Ty walked around to the driver’s side. He opened the door, grabbed Hanger by the back of the neck and pulled him out. With his hands cuffed and unable to break his fall, he landed face down in the dirt.
