“Of course not. But if I go to the cops and Caldwell finds out I don’t want to know what’ll happen.”
“The police will protect you,” Max said, but it sounded hollow even to himself. He didn’t much trust the cops either, of course. If he had, he would have gone straight to them at the beginning of all this.
“They tell you that,” Ruby continued, “but once you testify then they’re done with you. You’re on your own after that. I’d have to leave town. But even if I do, I’ll never really get away. I’ll always be watching over my shoulder, always wondering if they found me. Guys like Caldwell don’t go to prison forever. The system doesn’t work. He’ll get a slap on the wrist and he’ll be back out, gunning for whoever cramped his style by putting him in jail for one hot minute.” She opened the door.
“Ruby, wait.”
“Look, Max, you’re a decent guy. A good dad who cares. But I can’t get any deeper into this. Please, all I ask is that you let me stay out of this.”
“I have to tell them as much as I can. I can’t guarantee that I can keep you out of it.”
A look of frustration and disappointment spread over Ruby’s face. “I have to go.”
She got out of the car and closed the door. She walked around the front of the car and into the dim light of a nearby overhead light.
A moment later she dropped to the ground like a bag of wet cement, a spray of blood and brains exploding from the side of her head.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Max sat in his car, frozen, as his mind struggled to process what his eyes had just witnessed. The sound of the gunshot echoed a split-second after Ruby hit the ground.
Time seemed to slow down, as each millisecond ticked slowly by. Then the back window of Max’s car shattered as the sound of another gunshot rang out in the night.
That got Max moving. He pushed the start button on the car and the engine came to life a second later. He slammed the transmission into reverse and backed away, the daytime running lights illuminating Ruby’s body lying motionless on the ground. Another gunshot crackled, the echo making it sound as if the shooting might be coming from everywhere at once. But the shot seemed to have been off its mark and didn’t hit Max or his car.
Max smashed the brake pedal to the floor, bringing the car to a jerking halt. He jammed the transmission into drive and floored the gas pedal. The front wheels spun before catching hold, jerking the car forward and out of the parking lot.
Max heard no more gunfire behind him as he sped out of The Hustle’s parking lot and onto the two-lane road running parallel to the club. In the rearview mirror, he saw Liz’s headlights flare as she started her car and followed him away from the scene and back to the hotel. He needed time to think, to figure out what to do next. Things were escalating faster than he could manage.
He glanced at the speedometer and saw that he was driving at nearly eighty miles per hour. He let off the gas and maintained the speed limit the rest of the way back to the hotel.
Only later did he realize he’d been talking to himself the entire time, but he couldn’t remember anything he’d said.
* * *
“They killed her,” Max said. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor of the hotel room. “They killed her right in front of me.”
“I saw.”
“What the hell do we do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Two people are dead now because of me,” Max said. “First Vanessa and now Ruby.”
“Just take a deep breath. Stay calm. Breathe.”
“I can’t stay calm! They killed her!”
“I know, Max. I saw it too.”
“How can you be so calm about all this?”
“Somebody has to be.”
Max opened his mouth as if to say something but didn’t. Instead, he sighed and dropped his face into his hands.
“We have to go to the cops,” Liz said. “I’m not saying this was your fault, but I’m saying that we’re in over our head here. We don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t want anyone else to die and I know you don’t either.”
“I just want this all to be over.”
“Then we go to the cops with whatever we have. We tell them everything. Our stories will match because we’re going to tell the truth. As long as we do that we’ll be fine.”
“Who would just shoot her like that?” Max said, lifting his head and looking at Liz. “Who could just kill somebody in cold blood?”
“The same kind of people who would rape teenage girls on camera, that’s who. The kind of people we have to stop. You and me.”
Max nodded. A moment later a knock sounded on the door.
Max and Liz looked at each other and froze.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Max looked through the door’s peephole. On the other side stood a man dressed in jeans and a striped short-sleeve shirt.
In his right hand, he held a pistol.
The man knocked again. Max nodded at Liz.
“Who it is?” Liz asked.
“Police,” the man said.
“He doesn’t look like a cop,” Max whispered in Liz’s ear.
“What do we do?”
“Stall him.”
Liz nodded and spoke again to the man on the other side of the door. “Just a minute. I’m not dressed.”
“Take your time, ma’am.”
Max looked around the room. His eyes fell upon a small fire extinguisher attached to a hook on the wall. He retrieved the red cylinder and returned to the door. He stood behind it, out of sight and nodded.
Liz opened the door and took a few steps back.
“Hands up where I can see them, take two steps back,” the man said, stepping toward her.
Liz raised her hands and stepped back as instructed. The man in the striped shirt stepped into the room and just past the door.
That’s when Max hit him in the head with the fire extinguisher.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The gun toppled to the floor as the man in the striped shirt dropped hard. After ensuring the man was down, Max checked the hallway for any backup. He saw no one, so he closed the door and locked it.
He turned to Liz. “Strip that bed.”
“Huh?”
“We need the sheets.”
Liz still looked confused.
“To tie him up.”
“Oh.” She peeled the sheets from the bed as Max lifted Striped Shirt off the floor. The man wasn’t out cold, but the fire extinguisher to the temple had knocked him for a hell of a loop. Max planted the barely conscious man in a chair as Liz arrived with the bed sheet.
“Help me tie him up,” Max said.
“What if he’s a real cop?”
“Then he’ll be able to prove it.”
“And if he’s not?”
“I’d rather err on the side of caution.”
Liz began tying off the man’s hands to the chair while Max worked on his feet. Striped Shirt’s head lolled to the side as drool dripped from his mouth and onto his jeans. A trickle of blood ran from a small laceration on the side of the man’s head.
Once they had him secured, Max and Liz sat back and waited for the man to get his wits about him. He groaned, still somewhere between conscious and not. Eventually, his eyes fluttered and he opened them. He shook his head and winced at the pain. He pulled the sheet binding him to the chair as his eyes darted left and right, eventually landing on Max and Liz. “What did you idiots do to me?”
“It’s for our protection,” Max said.
“Do you now how much trouble you’re already in?” Striped Shirt asked. “You’d better let me go right now before you make it worse on yourselves.”
Max and Liz looked at each other.
“Who are you, really?” Liz asked.
“Detective Jonathan Smith.”
Liz huffed. “Smith? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Check my ID and my badge. You’ll see.”
Liz looked at Max. He shrugged and nodded before reaching toward the man in the chair.
“Back left pocket,” the man said.
Max retrieved a wallet from the man’s pocket. Inside he found a badge and a picture ID for one Detective Jonathan Smith.
“Satisfied?” Smith asked.
“That could be a fake,” Liz said.
“It’s not. Call the precinct if you want proof. I’ll remind you though that assaulting a police officer and false imprisonment are both felonies.”
“You don’t know what we’ve seen tonight,” Max said. “If you did then you’d understand why we’re suspicious.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it then?”
“Why don’t you start talking first?” Liz said. “You can start by telling us how you found us and what you’re doing here with your gun drawn.”
“You two are the ones who need to start talking.”
“Humor us,” Max said. “It would help us get to a point where we could untie you.”
Smith’s eyes flashed between Liz and Max. He paused, considering. “All right then. I was at the club, watching you guys.”
“You saw what happened to Ruby?” Max asked.
“I did.”
“They got to her too.”
“Too?” Smith asked. “Who else are you talking about?”
Max stared at Smith for a few moments. He pictured the man out of the street clothes and in slacks and a button up shirt. He stared hard at the man before him and it soon became clear that Max remembered the face. “You were at Vanessa’s house.”
“Vanessa who?”
“Simmons.”
“What do you know about that?”
“I think he’s legit,” Max said to Liz. “I remember him from Vanessa’s house. He was there with Detective Cook.”
Liz stared at Smith. “I don’t remember. We were kinda far away.”
“Did they kill Vanessa too?” Max asked Smith.
“How about you tell me?”
“Just answer the question, Smith.”
“Someone did.”
Max sighed. “This is way out of control.”
Smith watch Max closely. “If you let me go now, we can talk. Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, we’ll work to get you out of.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Max insisted.
“I didn’t say you did.” Smith watched Max again, reading his face. “Truth is, I’ve been trailing you for some time. I know you’ve gotten yourself caught up in something beyond your control.” Smith glanced at Liz. “I don’t know how you’re caught up in all this, but if you untie me I promise we’ll talk it through. I might even be able to forget about the fact that you thumped me with a fire extinguisher and tied me to a chair.”
Max looked at Liz. “What do you think?”
Liz eyed Smith with a suspicious stare. “Okay. But we keep the gun for now, just in case.”
Smith nodded. “Deal.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Detective Jon Smith sat on the edge of the bed with a wet and bloody washcloth in his hand.
“I didn’t want to do that to you,” Max said. “We can’t just trust without question anymore.”
“I’ve been through worse,” Smith said. “But now I want you to tell me everything.”
Max began the story, telling the detective everything that had happened so far while Liz added in additional details. They told him of the basement, the DVD, Gabe, Ruby, Amanda, Caldwell, Josh and the cabin with the dead policeman inside. All the events, leading up to Ruby’s death in the parking lot of The Hustle. Max found it good to get it all off his chest.
“Ruby lied to you,” Smith said.
“About what?” Max asked.
“She and Gabe are together.”
“Together in what way?”
“Let’s say in love and in business. She helps him run those girls through his smut machine. That video operation they have going, it’s a turn and burn operation. Ruby helps to recruit them. She talks them off the ledge, gains their trust. The video business part of it is legit, Gabe didn’t lie about that, but I know there’s more to it.”
“Like what?” Liz asked.
“Drugs, for one thing.”
“I saw syringes down in that basement,” Max said. “I have pictures.”
“The pictures are a good start. Have you sent them to anyone yet?”
Max shook his head.
“I need to be able to prove they’re running drugs through the operation, though. Distribution. That’s the only thing that’s gonna stick. I want to hit these people hard, all of them.”
Max looked Smith up and down. “This is personal for you, isn’t it?”
Smith didn’t answer.
“When I saw you at Vanessa’s you were dressed the part. Now you look like a bum.” Max paused. “No offense.”
“I’ve taken an interest in this case that’s not exactly official.”
“Why?” Liz asked.
Smith took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I don’t have any kids, but I got a friend with a daughter. She got caught up in this racket these Russian assholes got going. She didn’t make it out.”
“They killed her?” Liz asked.
“She O.D.ed. She was clean before she went to that place. Not perfect, but clean. She had a future, but these people…” he trailed off. “My buddy never really got over it.”
“What happened to him?” Max asked.
“He wrapped his car around a telephone pole one night. Drunk as a skunk. He drank a lot after Cindy died. He’d already lost his wife to cancer a few years before and he had nothing left, you know?”
“Seems we all have a vested interest in seeing some kind of justice done here,” Max said. He looked at Smith. “What do we do now, then?”
“First, we need to pick up Gabe, provided he’s still where you two left him.” Smith looked them both over, shaking his head. He winced slightly. “You two…you really got yourselves caught up in a shit storm, didn’t you?”
Max shrugged.
“I can’t say I blame you,” Smith continued. “You both lost a kid. I lost a surrogate daughter, I guess you could say. And I lost a buddy. I knew Frank for years. He was a good man before he got everything taken away from him.”
“So if Ruby was lying, then how much of that stuff she said about Gabe was really a lie?” Max asked. “She wasn’t lying when she said he didn’t come to work.”
“You want my theory?” Smith asked.
“Yeah.”
“I think she was setting you up. I think Gabe got loose and called her. Of course he told her about what you and Liz did to him. She, in turn, fed you some intel about how Gabe wasn’t such a bad guy, about how he was trying to get out or whatever, and then she tried to blow you off, Max.”
“To what end?”
“Redirection. She gets you off Gabe’s case and out of her life.”
“But what about the paperwork she said Gabe had? The dirt that he had on Caldwell?”
“Some of what she said might be true. These kinds of people mix fact and fiction, but it’s always a lie in the end. She and Gabe are probably both on the take with blackmailing Caldwell. But you’re a liability, a monkey wrench in that plan.”
“Then who killed her?” Liz asked.
“Maybe Caldwell. His real name is Dimitri Aksakov. He took an American name after he got into the club and porn biz. We think there might be another group out there, though. A rival to Aksakov.”
“Would Gabe have been working for this rival?” Max asked.
“I’ve considered that. It’s always possible that Gabe could be playing both sides of this, threatening to take his information to us or to go turncoat and join up with this rival. Honestly, it’s so convoluted that it sometimes has my head spinning.”
“So why is the department not looking into this?” Liz asked.
“They did. Aksakov—Caldwell—runs a squeaky-clean operation. He distances himself fro
m the dirt and scum, usually through some sort of intermediary. Gabe Harris, for instance.”
“Then why don’t you put Gabe away?” Liz asked.
“I probably could. But that wouldn’t solve the problem, would it? Caldwell would be right back out there, exploiting young girls for profit. He’d also be just a little wiser and would be even harder to catch. I want to nail the main guy. I get him and the rest topple.”
“What about Ruby then? Are you just going to leave her body there? Max asked.
“I don’t want to sound crass or anything, but somebody will find her. When they open the place up or whatever. They’ll call it in.”
“So are we under arrest?” Max asked.
“I’m not going to arrest you. But you can help me.”
“How?” Liz asked.
“Let’s start with Gabe Harris. With any luck, he’ll be right where you left him.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Gabe Harris turned out to be exactly where Max and Liz had left him…but sitting in a pool of his own blood.
“Well, fuck,” Smith spat. “There goes that.” He looked at Max and Liz suspiciously. “You said you left him alive.”
“We did,” Max said. “I swear. His leg was broken, but he did that to himself when he fell down the stairs.”
Smith looked at Max’s bruised face. “He did bust you up pretty good, didn’t he?”
“He was alive when we left,” Liz said. “Somebody came back and did this afterward.”
“So if not you two, then who?”
“Maybe Caldwell found him and did this,” Max said. “Gabe was working for him, so he knew about this place.”
“Not necessarily.” Smith stopped to inspect Gabe’s body. “Throat’s cut. He bled out like a stuck pig.” He looked up at Max and Liz. “Be careful not to step in any of it. Don’t leave any traceable footprints.”
“If Caldwell didn’t do this, then who did? Max asked.
“I didn’t say Caldwell didn’t do this. He might have. But he keeps himself distanced from the operations he runs. He knew Gabe was filming porn somewhere, but maybe not necessarily where. That way if we ran him in he could claim ignorance. So we can’t conclusively say it was him, but he can’t be ruled out yet. That said, he’s still my prime suspect.”
Familiar Lies Page 11
