by M. Z. Kelly
She didn’t respond for a long moment. Finally, she said, “I think about my mom sometimes.”
I gave her a moment, unsure how to respond.
Lexi finally continued, “Sometimes I even talk to her.” She found my eyes. “Like she’s still alive.”
I turned onto the street where her grandparents lived. “I’m sure she’s very proud of you.”
She was quiet again. I cracked open the rear window, giving Bernie some air. As the cool air circulated she finally said, “The girl—her name was Jenna?” I nodded. “Do you think she’s okay? I mean, do you think somewhere she’s…she…”
I pulled to the curb in front of her house, then reached over and hugged her. “I think she’s with us right now, just like your mom, looking down on us, Lexi. They’re safe and happy that you’re thinking about them.”
Lexi brushed another tear, thanked me for taking her to the audition, and said she’d see me soon. She started to walk away but then turned back to the open window, smiled, and said, “Lilies.”
I returned her smile and said, “Orchids.”
As I pulled away from the curb and the darkness settled in around me again, I looked over and saw a dead girl sitting beside me. I exhaled and said, “We’re going to find him, Jenna. That’s a promise.”
THIRTY ONE
The girl is attending a youth group at her church. She’s been in the meeting for more than an hour. Soon she will be walking to the parking lot where her mother will pick her up. That’s never going to happen.
Tyler Linden has been watching her for the past month. He stops and takes a couple of breaths, preparing himself for the removal, just as he’s been trained. He puts on the jacket that he carries. Linden is about to enter the walkway to the church when his cell phone buzzes. He moves into the shadows and answers the call, realizing that it’s from The Apostle.
“The police are watching your house. You can’t go back there after your work is done tonight.”
“But…I don’t…where will I go?”
“The Prophet has plans for you. I will call after the girl is prepared and give you further instructions. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I won’t let you down.”
“Be strong. This must go exactly as we’ve practiced.”
Linden slips the phone into his pocket and turns back to the church. His breath comes in short, hard gasps, the condensate rising in the night air as he anticipates what will follow.
The girl’s name is Riley Miller. She is fifteen. Riley has shoulder length brown hair and the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen. When she walks, there’s a lilt to her step, and she has a habit of brushing back her hair with one hand. He’d made note of it when he followed her to school. She never suspected anything. Riley was busy with her phone—probably texting her girlfriends.
Three days ago he took a chance and walked right beside her when she stopped at a street corner. She didn’t even know that he was there. After she’d crossed the street, he moved over to where she had stood, inhaling her scent. It was the smell of lavender, probably a combination of her shampoo and soap.
The scent was now forever etched into his consciousness. It was in that moment that Tyler Linden knew he had fallen in love with Riley Miller, just as The Apostle had told him would happen.
Riley doesn’t have a boyfriend. There was a boy, a gangly older kid, who she sometimes stopped and talked to in the morning. His name was Robert. He went away, hit by a car while walking home from school a couple of weeks ago. The car didn’t have license plates and the driver had never stopped. He’d read in the paper that a witness had gotten a description of the driver; a man in his twenties, with long, shoulder length hair. The wig had been useful, just like when he’d followed the detective, as The Apostle had directed.
Linden’s thoughts surface. A few moments later he moves through a gate and waits in the bushes near the walkway to the church. He’s already left the note, the one that Riley’s pastor will probably find tomorrow in his office, written by The Prophet.
The door to the church opens and he sees the girl, his beloved, walking with some other kids to the parking lot. He moves forward, making his move just as he’s practiced.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says to the girl. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident. You need to come with me.”
He sees the shocked expression on her face as Riley’s eyes take in the jacket that he wears. It says POLICE in bold lettering. The fake badge that he shows her seals the deal.
“Where…what happened?” Riley asks.
“Your mother is in the hospital. I’ll take you.”
Riley’s friends tell her they will call and check on her later before she follows the man to the parking lot behind the church. It’s dark here and she stops, hesitating. “I think I need to talk to my pastor. Let him know what’s happening.”
Riley Miller turns, but she only takes a couple of steps before the hand comes up from behind her. She tries to scream but it’s too late. Linden knows that the sweet, chemical substance she inhales is already rendering her unconscious. The girl belongs to him now. The prophecy will be fulfilled.
THIRTY TWO
I spent my day off on Saturday doing laundry and some grocery shopping. I then took Bernie to a dog park where he got reacquainted with his species. My big dog had a good time with a black lab that reminded me of Bubba, Bernie’s love puppy that he’d sired after a romp with a local PI’s dog.
Just before leaving the park, I called to check on my sister. After chatting for a moment, I held my breath and asked the question that I was dreading. “Did you do a pregnancy test?”
I heard the relief in her voice as she said, “It was negative. Thank-God.”
I filled my lungs with air, also relieved. We talked about her visit to Boston for a moment before I asked when she was coming home.
“I’m thinking about staying here for a while, Kate. I might even check into taking some classes. It’s a great city.”
“If that’s what you want, then I’m all for it…” I paused and then said the other thing that was on my mind. “Your counseling…if you don’t come back to Hollywood, I think you should check into seeing someone there.”
She sighed. “I know I still need help. I’ll see what I can arrange next week.”
I ended the call and took a walk down by a pond. While I was happy that Lindsay was able to get away and have new surroundings, I also knew that she still needed professional help in dealing with what happened with her father. As I went over and got Bernie back on his leash, I made a silent vow to make sure that happened.
I got home a little after four and went through my closet, trying to find something to wear on my date with Lexi’s English teacher. While I didn’t really think of the outing as a date, I had to admit I was excited at the prospect of having a night out and forgetting about our homicide investigation, if only for a couple of hours.
I stopped by Natalie and Mo’s apartment to ask them if they could keep an eye on Bernie while I went out. I found my friends with Carly Hogg, rehearsing for the next episode of their sit-com, Hollywood Girlz. They were all wearing swimsuits, even though the day had been cloudy and cool.
“Are you guys going swimming?” I asked, thinking that the Barkley swimming pool might be a good habitat for alligators.
Natalie, who was wearing a pink bikini that showed off her Victoria’s not so Secret assets, explained, “Our next script calls for us to hang out by the pool. Carly gets into a little trouble when she goes swimming to impress our hunky neighbor. Mo and me are supposed to rescue her.”
Carly’s bathing suit looked like something that might have been worn during the turn of the last century. It was black with a ruffled skirt, but did nothing to slim-down her ample figure.
The star of Hollywood Girlz motioned to my friends. “I think these two are jealous that I always get the man.” She did a little pirouette that I was ashamed to admit reminded me of that children’s character, Hen
rietta Hippo. “Can I help it if I’m sexy as hell?”
Mo came over. She was wearing a one-piece orange suit that did nothing to hide breasts that reminded me of a couple of enormous mountains. She put her hands on her ample hips and said, “Me and baby sis gotta bail Carly out of all kinds of shit on the show. I guess it’s a good thing we’ve had a lot of practice with you.”
I started to take offense when Natalie chimed in, telling Carly, “Kate’s life is like one of them soap operas, only worse—she never gets laid.”
That was apparently Carly’s cue to impart some wisdom about the opposite sex at my expense. She looked at me and said, “In case you’ve forgotten, honey, men are great. They only have one bad habit—breathing.”
I brushed a hand through my frizzy hair, trying to conceal my annoyance. I knew that it would take me at least another hour to make it look half-way presentable.
I turned to Natalie and Mo. “I’m going out tonight. Do you think you two could keep an eye on Bernie?”
I had the impression that I was looking at a roomful of full moons as their eyes all grew wide.
“Don’t tell me you got a date?” Mo said.
While I didn’t really think of it as a date, I was still hurting from their comments and said, “As a matter of fact, I’m going for drinks with my friend Lexi’s English teacher.”
Mo’s giant chocolate eyes found Natalie. “Maybe there’s still some life left in the old girl.”
Old girl?
Natalie looked at me. “Your vagina musta had CPR. Are you starting to get some feeling back down there?” She pointed to my privates.
“I’ve always had…” Why did I always find myself defending my unmentionable parts to my friends? “I’m feeling fine.”
“I read a story about a woman whose vagina went numb,” Carly said. “The doctors had a technical name for it. I think it was something like DBS.”
“Never heard of it,” I said, handing over Bernie’s leash to Natalie and wanting to leave.
“It’s call Dead Beaver Syndrome,” Carly said. A chorus of laughter followed.
“I need to get going,” I said, doing an eye roll and heading for the door.
“Before you rush off,” Natalie said. “We’re planning a cast party for the first showing of Hollywood Girlz. We want you to come.”
“I’ll try,” I said, turning back to the door. “But no promises. My work schedule is a little crazy lately.”
“As in trying to find that crazy killer,” Mo said. “I heard on the streets The Prophet’s gonna strike again, and soon.”
I stopped at the door, turned back to her, and said, “Any idea how soon?”
Mo shook her head and pushed the strands of her violet wig off her breasts. “Not exactly, but I got a bad feeling all hell’s gonna break loose real soon.”
***
I spent the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening working on hair that, despite my best efforts, insisted on going back to its zombie roots. I gave up on it after a couple of hours and concentrated on choosing an outfit from the clothes I’d pulled out of my closet.
Thanks to my ex ruining my credit and a fire in my former apartment a few months back, my wardrobe was just a couple of outfits short of a shopping rack after a Black Friday sale. After trying on four different ensembles, I finally decided on my best silk blouse, a pair of skinny jeans that were a bit too skinny for me, and a pair of Badgley Mischka pumps that were given to me by a friend, maybe out of pity. The hair and outfit left a lot to be desired, but, given the current state of my finances and wardrobe, it was the best I could pull together.
I found Dillon Walker just after eight at the Broadway Bar in downtown Los Angeles. The gothic revival lounge, with its massive circular bar, brought to mind a 1940’s New York tavern, with lots of antiques and memorabilia. We took seats in an upstairs lounge that faced the street below. The place had a low-key vibe, but at the same time it felt like I’d gone back in time to a place of glamour from an era that was gone, but not forgotten.
“I’m glad we could get together,” Dillon said, after we took our seats.
Lexi’s teacher wore dark pants with a black mock turtleneck sweater and sports coat. His black hair was shorter than the last time I’d seen him and it occurred to me that he might have gotten a haircut.
“Me, too,” I said. “It’s nice to get out now and then, and act like an adult.”
A server came over and we ordered an inexpensive bottle of Chenin Blanc. When he left, we made small talk about Lexi’s upcoming play. Dillon lowered his voice and said, “Don’t mention this to anyone, but I have it on pretty good authority that Lexi might get the part of Emily.”
“Really?”
I saw his green eyes brighten, even in the subdued lighting. “Really. The drama teacher, Derek Posey, said that after Lexi got over her nervousness the audition went well, and, as you know, there weren’t a lot of kids trying out. We should know something definite in a couple of days.”
“That’s great. She’s a terrific kid who’s been through a lot.”
After our wine arrived, we talked about his background and love of teaching. “I taught elementary school for a while but decided that I liked the drama of high school better.” He chuckled. “You never know what kids are going to come up with.”
“I know. It’s been a while, but I was one of those kids at one time. Trouble always seemed to find me.”
He set his glass down and smiled. “You don’t seem the type to get into a lot of trouble, especially given your line of work.”
“Even cops have their issues.” I took a moment and gave him the abbreviated version of my high school years, which involved me cutting school a lot and being at odds with my mother.
After hearing my story, he said, “I had my share of issues as a kid, as well.” He laughed. “I had to go to summer school just to get enough credits to graduate.”
There was something unpretentious in his manner that I had to admit I liked. “So, why did you decide to become a teacher?”
He swirled the wine in his glass and then found my eyes. “I had a girlfriend who was a teacher.” His gaze drifted off and came back. “Actually, she ended up becoming my wife. She convinced me that I would make a good teacher and we ended up going to school together but…” He shrugged. “Sometimes, despite the best of intentions, things don’t work out. We’ve been divorced about four years now.”
As the evening progressed, I told him a little about my background and failed marriage. There was something compassionate and caring about the way he responded. As we finished the last of our wine, he asked me about my work.
“I’m assigned to Section One, it’s a homicide division.” I sipped the last of my wine and then continued, “It’s not the easiest assignment but I’m working with some good people. It feels like family to me.”
“I heard about that murder…the guy they call The Prophet. You’re not involved in that case, are you?”
“’Fraid so.” I took a moment and briefly touched on what had been in the press about the case, without going into specifics.
“I sure hope they find the guy soon. It’s just…” He shook his head. “It’s about the worst thing I can imagine.”
“We’ll eventually get him. It’s just a matter of time.”
We finished the last of the wine and Dillon held up the empty bottle. “Another?”
I shook my head. “Better not. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
As he walked me to my car, the air was cool, and I wrapped a sweater around my shoulders.
“I forgot to ask you about Bernie,” Dillon said. “What’s he doing tonight?”
I laughed. “Oh, just hanging out by the swimming pool with my friends, probably on the lookout for zombies.” His brows came together and he laughed. “Don’t ask. It’s a long story.”
When we got to my car, I saw his questioning look and felt compelled to explain about the ancient Ford that I drove. “My ex ruined my credit
before our divorce. I call her Olive. She’s all I could afford.”
He laughed. “My ride’s down the street. A truck with over a hundred thousand miles on it.”
After I retrieved my keys, he took a step closer to me and said, “How would you feel about a real date? I’ll even buy dinner.”
I hesitated before responding, wondering if I was ready to begin dating again. Then I looked into Dillon Walker’s beautiful green eyes and the questions dissolved. “I think I’d like that. Give me a call.”
His goodnight kiss lasted just long enough. It stirred something inside me, at the same time leaving me wanting more. After we said our goodbyes, I drove away thinking about Dr. Chan’s words, about how when you’re ready and open to a relationship, it will find you. I decided that maybe Dillon Walker was the new beginning I’d been waiting for.
THIRTY THREE
Bernie and I met Joe Dawson at Hollywood Station on Sunday night. We planned to stakeout Tyler Linden’s house in Chatsworth after Belmont and Hardy had come up empty the day before.
Dawson and I had briefly talked on Saturday and I’d mentioned to him that Ted already had some plans for Sunday that he’d have to change because of the duty. Since he was in the city on a temporary basis and had no plans for the evening, the FBI agent had volunteered to take his place.
I’d spent part of my day having lunch with Brie. Her surgery was set for later in the week and she was already a basket case. Her daughter Lily was telling everyone that her mother was going into the hospital to rest and get well, something that the little girl had tried to help out with by bringing her mother blankets and pillows. When I’d heard the story, I found it both touching and sad. I knew there was a very long road ahead for my friend.
After we stopped down the street from Linden’s house in a poor area of the city with lots of gang graffiti, I asked Dawson how he spent his day off.
