Llewellyn sighed. “She’s changed,” he said as he showed the chief the photo. “This isn’t a girl next door anymore.”
“Maybe that will save her,” Richard suggested, but Llewellyn shook his head.
“She’s the epitome of what he despises now. A beautiful, upper-class suburban blonde who has been tainted and corrupted by an ugly subculture.” He sighed as he pocketed the phone. “She’s going to pay for that mistake if we don’t find her quickly.”
Richard shook his head. “You know I can’t authorize your raiding that club until we get a search warrant. And that won’t be easy after the last debacle involving Slick.”
“Maybe not. But no offense, Chief, I get my orders from an authority much higher than you.” He was on his phone in an instant, and he headed out the door just as Stuart and Katherine Rothchild were entering. They were an affluent couple in their late thirties, Southern socialites with money and influence. Both were picture-perfect, from their bonded, bleached teeth to their tailored, expensive clothing. Like her daughter Haley, Katherine was a true blonde with crystal blue eyes. But her hair was coiffed, and her eyes were tinted lavender, enhanced by contacts.
“Is it true?” Katherine demanded to know at once. “Have you found my daughter?”
“Only to have her slip through your fingers again?” Stuart added, with a scowl of his own.
Richard sighed. He had enough to deal with without adding hysterical parents to the mix. They had had PING in their ears from the moment they touched down at LAX, which meant most of what they hounded him over was unsubstantiated.
Granted, the rumors this time had been true. PING had really done its homework. This, of course, shaded his department as even more inept. He suspected that was the true purpose of the Hard Candy Killer, to tear the fabric between society and security and expose everyone for the sitting ducks that they were.
“Nothing has been confirmed,” Richard sidestepped. “As soon as I know something, you’ll know something.”
“That’s not good enough,” Stuart Rothchild announced. Like his wife, not one hair was out of place on the man, despite their very publicly documented turmoil. He stood tall and slender, with the grace of a man who had been raised with silver spoon in hand. He was elegant and entitled, the son of an East Coast shipping titan. His days included golf and accompanying his socialite wife to can’t-miss events of the season. “This is our child,” he reminded the beleaguered chief once again. “Every moment you squander cutting through all your red tape is a moment closer to that monster finding her. If anything happens to her, I will hold you and this department personally responsible.”
“I understand,” Richard reasoned as patiently as he could. This message had been on repeat since the first moment they walked into his office. “We are doing all we can, believe me.”
Katherine wrung her hands nervously as she glanced up at Stuart. “I just want her home.”
Stuart placed a hand on her shoulder. “Me, too.”
“It would help if we knew exactly why she ran away,” Richard said as he sat behind his desk.
“We already told you that,” Stuart snapped. “She wanted to date a boy and we decided she was much too young.”
Richard leaned back in his chair. “Typical teen stuff.”
“Of course,” Stuart replied.
“Still. Most teens don’t run clear across the country when they’ve squabbled with their parents.”
Stuart glared at him with his steely slate-blue eyes. “What are you implying, Chief Bennett?”
Richard shrugged. “The photo taken the day your daughter got into town shows that she had been pretty roughed up. Any idea how she got that way?”
Stuart took a deep breath. It was clear this wasn’t the first time he had been questioned about it. “I told you. She likely ran off to be with this boy and he beat her up, forcing her to get on a bus to anywhere else.”
“And the boy’s name?”
Katherine shot out of the seat in a flash. “We’ve answered all your asinine questions a dozen times already. None of it has got us any closer to our daughter.”
“Maybe she’s keeping in contact with this boy. Maybe they came to Los Angeles together. Any information you give me would be helpful, Mrs. Rothchild. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that time is of the essence.”
“We already told you everything we know. She wanted to date but we forbade it. She started seeing some boy on the sly but we don’t know who or where. It could be anybody. And he could be here or back in North Carolina. Isn’t it your job to piece together what we’ve told you to figure out what’s going on?”
“Yes,” Richard agreed. “But that’s a lot easier to do when you have all the information. Have you checked her school? Did she have a diary? Question her friends?”
Stuart and Katherine shared a look. Finally, Katherine answered. “She doesn’t have friends. She stays to herself. It started about a year ago, shortly after we got married. It was my third marriage, and she didn’t acclimate well to our moving to Wilmington. Honestly, she never really got over my second marriage, either. She’s a classic introvert who folded into herself no matter how hard we tried to assimilate her with new family and friends. As far as we knew, she went to school and came straight home, without any real human interaction in between.”
“How about online?”
Both shook their heads. “We are fairly strict parents, Chief Bennett,” Stuart answered. “We know how dangerous it is out there for someone as innocent and naïve as Haley. Maybe that was why she felt as though she needed to run away as far as she could possibly go.”
Richard nodded as he stood. “Well, we are doing the best that we can. I know that doesn’t make the waiting any easier.”
Stuart was immediately put off. “So that’s it, then? We go back to the hotel and pray that you find her before the killer does?”
“You can pray,” Richard conceded. “Or you can search your memory for any clue possible that will help us find your daughter.” He stood. “But the longer you berate me, the more precious minutes we lose.”
Katherine’s breath caught in her throat in a hiccupping sob. She grabbed Stuart’s hand, and he stood a little straighter as he nodded at the Chief. “Very well. Just do your job, Bennett. But know this. If my daughter comes to harm, there will be hell to pay.”
Richard watched them exit his office. With a sigh, he opened up the top drawer of his desk, taking out a frame holding one of his many commendations. He flipped it over, removed the backing of the frame, and revealed a faded photo hidden behind the certificate.
It was a picture of his wife, Marty, taken in November 1985. Her vibrant red hair was matted against her scalp as she held a ruddy newborn to her bare breast. She smiled at the camera victoriously, and he found himself absently returning her smile. He traced her face with a delicate fingertip. When had he forgotten how she felt? How she smelled? How her voice sounded when she first woke up in the morning, snuggling up against him with that sleepy smile?
“They” say that time heals all wounds, but Richard knew all too well that was bullshit. His wife had been gone for more than twenty years. But it hurt as if it had just happened yesterday. Every time he saw her beautiful face he was reminded of his greatest loss—and his greatest failure.
It helped nothing whatsoever that his daughter was the mirror image of her mother. She was older now than Marty had been when she died, and she had enough of the Bennett edge to temper the flawless beauty she inherited from her mother’s side. He had hoped that would keep her safe even when he couldn’t . . . especially since he never could.
And now she was out there alone, facing off against a fucking crime lord, biting off way more than she could ever chew. Also like a true Bennett. He knew she’d never accept his help. She hated him, and for good reason. He hated himself, too.
But he would have hated himself even more if he sat in that office and did nothing, like he was supposed to do, like he was paid
to do. He sighed as he replaced the back of the frame and put everything back in the top drawer. He grabbed his keys and headed to his car. This vendetta ended today, before he lost one more person he loved.
26. YOUTH GONE WILD
Baby sat on the double bed in the darkened room, her knees pulled to her chest, coiled in the tightest ball she could manage. The piped lighting along the walls was neon purple, and rows of black lights made anything white on the walls and bed glow unnaturally, including baskets of sex toys of varying shapes and sizes.
She shook so hard her teeth chattered. She had no idea what to do next. There were no windows in the room and only two doors. One was to the locked closet, and one was the only entrance from the hallway, which X had soundly locked behind her after shoving her inside. There were restraints tethered to the bed, but they wouldn’t do her much good unless an assailant got close enough.
She prayed to every god she could think of that she wouldn’t have the opportunity to use them.
Music played from the TV monitor overhead. She recognized the alternative band, even though she had never been allowed to listen to their music before she had moved in with Snake and Kid.
Just thinking about her Wyndryder family brought tears to her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to be in that house in Pasadena, sitting on the sofa next to Kid, killing zombies on the TV while listening to rock music and noshing on popcorn and chips.
A tear streaked down her cheek when she realized that her own desire to be independent, to be a “grown-up” and work for herself and pay her way, had ultimately doomed her. It was what M.J. had feared most, but Baby had foolishly thought the rules didn’t apply to her. By changing her hair color and clothes and getting a tattoo, she had mistakenly believed she could be as safe at Wyndryder as she was holed away in that guest room they had graciously provided.
Now everything was fucked ten ways to Sunday, and Baby knew it was all her fault.
She had believed that safe bubble to be real. Now she was poised to meet the same end as Tammy. Her fate had been decided for her from the moment she stepped off that bus nearly six weeks before.
Mere minutes into her pity party, she heard the lock rattle at the door. She scrambled against the upholstered leather headboard like a frightened bird as the door swung open and a dark figure entered wearing a hoodie over his head. Her heart leapt momentarily, and she wondered if Kid or Mad Dog, Snake, or Jack had found her. But she didn’t recognize the man who closed the door and turned to her. He had short, sandy blond hair and amber eyes. She could tell that underneath his hoodie, T-shirt, and jeans that he was quite fit, making him a formidable opponent for her first real altercation.
He looked around the room, locating and identifying the cameras in every corner. She watched as he processed this information before he approached the bed. Her eyes were wide as he sat down next to her. She didn’t bother asking what he wanted. She simply waited for him to speak, which he did so quietly.
“Hi, Baby,” he said, leaning a little closer. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”
She recoiled against his hand on her leg. “Who are you?”
Again he looked at the cameras. “A friend,” he finally said. His hand slid up her leg, which was still clad in her blue jeans. “I want you to listen carefully,” he said as softly as he could. “I can get you out of here, but you have to trust me.”
She shook her head and tried to move away. “I don’t know you,” she hissed.
He bent closer, his breath in her ear. “I know M.J.”
She shuddered the closer he got. “Fuck you,” she breathed.
“There are cameras,” he insisted as his hands moved up her body to her arms. “We’re being watched. So don’t fight. Don’t struggle. Just give me a minute to figure this out.”
“Like hell.” She wound the restraint around his wrist, knocking him right in the nose with his very own fist.
In the confusion that followed, she slipped away from him, flying off the bed and across the room. She banged on the door, hollering with all her might. He pulled her into the far corner and used his body to pin her against the wall, his mouth covering her ear. “I’m not a john, Baby,” he said. “I can help you.”
“Bullshit,” she sneered as she fought against him. “Let me go!”
“If I let you go, he’ll punish you. You want to end up like Tammy?”
Her wide blue eyes stared. “Who are you?”
Before he could answer, all the lights went out in the room. She used that opportunity to knee him right in the groin. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her by the ankle. She heard the door open, but the hallway was dark as well, so she had no idea who was coming in or going out. She listened keenly as a struggle commenced nearby. She barely got to her feet before strong arms grabbed her and pulled her from the room, leading her down some back stairs. She fought like a hellcat the whole way, until a sliver of moonlight revealed the identity of her captor.
It was Kid.
She threw her arms around him, never happier to see anyone in her entire life. “How did you find me?” she whispered.
He had no time to explain. He tucked her under his arm and shielded her as they made their way through the darkened maze of the club. “M.J.,” was all he said.
She nodded and followed without question or complaint.
M.J. prowled the perimeter of Isbecky’s Hollywood Hills estate, wearing black from head to toe and keeping low as she tested the fences for weaknesses. Unlike Slick, there were no service entries here. Just one gate in and one gate out, with an overlook facing a steep cliff of forbidding terrain. How the hell Baby got out of there without breaking her neck was a mystery. M.J. instantly knew that repeating that trick would be impossible. It made this formidable estate a dead end for anyone who dared enter.
A perfect lair for the Hard Candy Killer.
She considered doubling back down the hill and using her grappling hook to climb the rocky bluff toward the back of the estate. But then Mad Dog texted her, letting her know they had killed the power at Slick. That meant her two young protégés had been successful in their surprise attack, and this new chaos was her friend.
She pitched a bag of toys toward the back of the estate and then walked boldly through the front gate.
Both Snake and Kelly knew they wouldn’t find M.J. at her Hollywood apartment, but they used the opportunity to pick through anything she’d left behind as clues to where she had gone. Slick was the obvious answer, but both men knew M.J. wasn’t about to do anything obvious.
Kelly created a list of Isbecky’s properties using his connections and her computer. He tried to ignore the rumpled bed in the bedroom, and the familiar way that Snake navigated the small space. He now knew how deep their connection ran, not just in terms of the years Snake and M.J. had known each other, but because of all the things they had been through together— starting with the brutal murder of her grandfather.
“What do you think she meant when she said that this guy had always been after her?” he asked Snake.
Snake’s face hardened. “The guy who shot her grandfather used her as bait to get Joe to do what he wanted. I thought at the time that he was just talking shit, saying anything to get his way. He even threw my brother in there for good measure, anything to make us emotional and react. Because it worked, none of us thought anything about it. Now it feels like a bookend.”
“And we’re finally at the other end.”
Snake nodded.
Kelly was still confused. “But that doesn’t explain why M.J. was so atypical to his normal victims. If he was after her all along, why target girls who were young and blonde?”
Snake shrugged. “If we’re assuming Isbecky is the Hard Candy Killer, then it doesn’t make much sense at all, does it?”
“You don’t think he is?”
“I’m not the expert,” Snake said. “It could all be an unhappy coincidence, or it could be a carefully orchestrated plot. We’re obviously deal
ing with the criminally insane. I’d worry about myself if any of it started making sense to me.”
“Should we worry that it seems to makes sense to M.J.?”
Snake chuckled. “Our M.J. is a clever girl,” he said. “Fortunately she uses her powers for good and not evil.” He walked behind Kelly to survey the map on the screen. Each pin indicated one of Isbecky’s many properties, spread all over the Los Angeles Basin. “Jesus. That’s all of them?” Kelly nodded. “Where do we start?”
Kelly enlarged the map, pointing to an area in Hollywood. “This is where we believe M.J. intercepted Haley. Baby,” he corrected, glancing up at Snake. “Gang member found dead, obviously ran afoul of someone on a motorcycle, as evidenced by the tire marks in the alley. According to Donny Costas, that gang had been affiliated with Dominic Isbecky, providing security detail for Slick.” He pointed to the club on Sunset. “As you can see, it’s the closest property, aside from this estate in the hills.”
“So if she’s not going to Slick,” Snake started, and Kelly was on his feet before he could complete the thought. Before they could reach the door, Kelly’s cell phone went off. It was Llewellyn. “What’s up?” Kelly answered, putting the call on speaker.
“I had her,” Llewellyn said, his voice breathless. “She got away.”
“What do you mean, ‘she got away’?”
“I don’t know, some kind of ambush, I think. M.J. was right about the upper rooms. There were several to choose from. I selected ‘goth,’ given Haley’s new appearance. I lucked out, she was there. I tried to convince her to trust me, but she wasn’t having it. Before I could get her out of there, someone blacked out the lights and stole her right out from under me.”
“Was it M.J.?” Snake asked.
“I don’t know,” Llewellyn answered. “It’s pandemonium here, guys. It’s like someone hacked into all the systems and created utter and complete chaos.”
Snake closed his eyes. He knew exactly who was at Slick. As soon as he disconnected the call with Llewellyn, Snake told Kelly, “You go to the estate. I’m going to Slick.”
Chasing Thunder Page 25
