The Unseen - A Mystery (The Baudin & Dixon Trilogy Book 2)

by Victor Methos

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Baudin switched lines. “This is Baudin.”

  “It’s me,” Dixon said.

  “They gave you your phone, huh?”

  “No. I’m out.”

  Baudin hesitated, his mind racing. “How?”

  “The DA is declining to file charges.”

  “That quick?”

  “Yeah.”

  Baudin tossed his cigarette. “He’s playing with us, man. This is a game. He wanted to show us what he could do if he wanted to, and now he’s not gonna file. It’s all a game.”

  Dixon was silent for a moment. “We need to hit Walk up tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know he’s our guy.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do. And it has to be tonight.” He paused. “I won’t be able to do it tomorrow.”

  “What’s all this cryptic shit, Kyle? What’s going on?”

  “Look, we gotta hit Walk up tonight. Now. Like right now.”

  Baudin watched a car pull away from the bar. “Okay. I’m in. You still at the station?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gimme ten.”

  45

  Dixon walked out of the station as Baudin parked at the curb. Baudin could see his gun and shield while he slung on his jacket. Something wasn’t sitting right with Baudin. They had Dixon cold for murder, and he was walking out of the station still a cop. Would Sandoval really go this far just to fuck with us? Baudin decided he would. The message was clear: back off, or I’ll take everything.

  Baudin stepped out of the car and lit a cigarette. He went to the trunk and popped it. Dixon came over, and they pulled out the Kevlar vests and began strapping them on. Dixon seemed distant. He wouldn’t look Baudin in the eyes, and though he still stank of alcohol, he had sobered up.

  “You sure you wanna do this tonight?” Baudin asked.

  He nodded. “Has to be tonight.”

  “Without backup?”

  “Just us. No one else.”

  “You know this is nuts, right? He could have an arsenal up there waiting for us.”

  Dixon took a shotgun from the trunk. “You wanna do this or not?”

  Baudin stared at him. Something had changed, something unseen that Dixon didn’t want to share. “Yeah, man. I wanna do this. I wanna make sure that piece of shit never kills another girl again. We make the world a little better. That’s our job, whether the law is on our side or not. But I’m surprised you see it.”

  “Just took some nudging is all.”

  Baudin took a step toward him. “I’ll fight the darkness every day for my daughter. What are you fighting for, Kyle?”

  Dixon held his gaze. Then he stepped around him and opened the passenger-side door. “Let’s go.”

  As they drove and the night dwindled to the coming day, Baudin’s unease grew. He knew for certain something was wrong. Dixon had always wanted backup, no matter where they went. The fact that he wanted them alone meant he wanted a certain outcome.

  “What happened in there, Kyle? Something did. I’m fine going in there and doing what I think you want to do. But I want to know why.”

  Dixon was silent for a few seconds. “Sandoval came and saw me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said Walk was the guy we’re lookin’ for.”

  “What else?”

  Dixon glanced to him. “He was havin’ us followed. That’s how they found Chris. One of the investigators from the DA’s office was just down the street when I ran in there and shot him. He just waited until you came out and followed you.”

  “And Sandoval just gave you this information out of the goodness of his heart?”

  “He got me out of a life sentence. I don’t give a shit why.”

  The darkness turned to a light gray as they approached the farm. They came to a gate up a dirt road, where Dixon got out and swung the gate open. Baudin drove through then waited for him. Dixon even seemed to move differently. He had a swagger to him. He’d come to a decision about something.

  They drove up the road another five or ten minutes, then Baudin saw something in the distance—figures running toward the car.

  “Shit.” He jumped out of the car and pointed his sidearm.

  Dixon did the same. As the figures neared, Baudin could hear them. They were nude and screaming. Two women.

  “What the shit…”

  Baudin lowered the gun but didn’t holster it as he approached. One of the women was covered in blood. She seemed to be following the other one. Baudin ran up just as a truck came barreling toward them. The pickup swung wide then bolted straight for Baudin.

  He fired, getting off three rounds. Two went into the truck, and it swerved, cutting between the women and Baudin. The man grabbed the first woman, a younger one, and held her in the driver’s-side window like a shield before peeling off and back down the way he came. Baudin took aim but didn’t fire for fear of hitting the girl.

  He ran to the second woman, Dixon behind him.

  “Was that Walk?”

  “They… they made me watch while they killed her.”

  “Who’s ‘they’? How many of them are there up there?”

  The woman was loopy, barely able to stand, much less talk. Baudin figured she’d been drugged. He quickly led her back to the car and put her in the backseat. He took out his cell phone.

  Dixon said, “No.”

  “No what? She needs an ambulance.”

  “You’re not calling it in. This is us and him.”

  Baudin stared at his partner for a second then tucked the phone back into his pocket. He turned to the woman. “Stay here.”

  He grabbed another pistol out of the trunk and tucked it into his ankle holster before the two of them started jogging up the road toward the farm.

  46

  The road narrowed, and up ahead was a barn. Thick white pine trees filled the landscape before them as the sun began its slow ascent in the sky. A breeze was blowing, and Baudin listened to the rustle of the leaves as they got closer.

  They stopped near the barn. The truck was parked up the road, next to a house. Baudin and Dixon each took a spot against the barn on either side of the door. Baudin nodded, and Dixon opened the door for Baudin to rush in.

  He swept right and left, but it was dark. Leaning down on one knee, Baudin immediately smelled the scent of blood. It was distinct. He rose and moved to the side of the door as Dixon came in, shotgun at his shoulder.

  Baudin slid along the wall, looking for a light switch. He felt one near a door and flipped it, turning on a single, swinging lightbulb in the center of the barn. Next to the bulb were chains and hooks. He lowered his weapon and stood underneath the hooks.

  “I think he’s in the house,” Dixon said.

  Baudin ran his eyes along the wall. Underneath a workbench was a series of buckets. He went to it and pulled out the first one.

  “What is it?” Dixon asked.

  Baudin kicked it over, spilling the black contents, which oozed along the floor like maple syrup. Left inside the bucket were two hands and a head. The face had rotted away, leaving only a skull and dark black hair.

  Baudin lifted his weapon and searched the rest of the barn. In a room in the back, they found a locked door. Baudin lifted his leg and bashed at the wood until it splintered.

  Dixon went in first and swept the room. “Holy shit,” he said.

  Laid out on several metal tables were the remains of girls—two full corpses and another one that was in the beginning stages of being cut. Meat cleavers and bone saws lay on a workbench in the corner. A butcher’s smock hung against the door.

  “Who the hell have we been chasing?” Dixon asked.

  A scream came from the house. The two of them looked at each other then sprinted out of the barn and toward the house. Dixon ran around back, and Baudin took the front. Usually, he liked working alone, but he would’ve really appreciated having SWAT do the entry. He d
ebated calling it in now without Dixon’s knowledge—then he heard a shotgun blast.

  He rushed into the house. The place looked like a garbage dump. His every step knocked aside cans, wrappers, and other trash. The smell burned his nostrils. In the kitchen, he found a thick layer of what he thought was dirt, but as he got closer, he saw it was manure.

  He rushed through the kitchen and to the back of the house, where he saw Dixon, who had blood spatter on his pants. On the floor in front of him lay a pig with a hole the size of a baseball in his head. Dixon was breathing hard, and the two men watched each other for a second before Baudin looked over at the hallway leading into the rest of the house.

  “You take the upstairs,” Baudin said.

  When Dixon had rushed up the steps, Baudin took the first set going down. The house was huge and had four different staircases: two going up and two going down. Baudin took the stairs gingerly, listening intently for any sounds.

  At the doorway, he looked left then scanned around to the right. Little light penetrated down there, and he flipped a switch, which turned on the track lighting. Off to the side, in another room, he heard canned laughter. He had to take a few steps in that direction then peeked around a corner to see a wheelchair in front of a television set. The volume was turned so low, he could hardly hear it.

  Baudin heard footsteps behind him, and Dixon came down. He let the shotgun hang as he looked around. “Upstairs is clear. The other stairs leading down go to a storage room. There’s no one here.”

  “He must’ve taken off on foot. Grab the car. I’ll run after.”

  Dixon took off up the stairs, and Baudin was about to leave when he noticed a closet across the room. One of the sliding doors was open maybe three inches. He held his firearm low and carefully went over there. Using two fingers, he slid the closet door open a crack. Nothing was inside but boxes of old shoes and clothes. As he stepped away, he heard a shriek. Then fire shot through him.

  An old woman had thrust the blade of a knife into his hip. He slammed his elbow into her face, and she stumbled back. Blood spurted from her mouth, and Baudin ripped the knife out of his flesh then threw it against the wall.

  The woman shrieked and ran for him again, her eyes wild like an animal’s. He lifted his weapon and fired two rounds. Both slammed into her chest. The woman flew onto her back. A sucking sound came from her chest where the blood sputtered and flowed.

  The pain in his hip burned, and he reached down and pressed his hand to the wound. Then the other side of the closet door opened, and Dennis Walk stabbed a metal hook into his back. Baudin screamed and Dennis ripped the hook out, along with a slab of flesh.

  Baudin spun to get his weapon up, and Dennis tackled him. The man was bigger and stronger than Baudin was. Dennis lifted the hook again and swung down. The metal pierced Baudin’s shoulder then tore downward as Dennis pulled on it. Baudin grabbed the hook with one hand to prevent it from tearing any farther down. His hand holding the gun was pinned beneath Dennis’s girth.

  Baudin had to make a choice. The hook would tear right through his chest. He dropped the gun and wrapped his arm around Dennis’s neck. Both men grunted like animals. He pulled Dennis against his chest, preventing him from having the leverage to tear out anything else with the hook. Behind Dennis in the closet, the young girl lay naked, not moving. Despite the pain, despite the struggle and burning in his arms from keeping Dennis against him, Baudin couldn’t help but think that the girl wasn’t that much older than Heather was.

  Dennis got one hand loose, and the hook dug deep enough to strike bone. Baudin thought he would pass out. He let go of Dennis’s neck and grabbed his gun. Dennis grabbed the gun, too. The hook began to pull out of his flesh as Dennis focused on the gun.

  Baudin thought of Heather and what she would do if he died there. Who she would become flashed in front of him—a woman who could never form relationships or have a connection because she’d lost both parents at such a young age. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would live for her.

  Baudin let go of the gun, and Dennis grabbed it with both hands. Ripping the hook out with one hand in an overwhelming burst of pain, Baudin swung with a backhand. The hook entered Dennis’s neck as he tried to lift the gun. Baudin spun, gripping the hook tightly. The metal tore across Dennis’s throat.

  Blood poured out as though a balloon had burst. It rained down over Baudin, and he panicked as it got into his mouth and eyes. He crawled away, using his uninjured arm to pull himself out from underneath Dennis.

  The gun fell to the floor. Wet, gurgling sounds came from Dennis as he flopped like a dying fish. Convulsing, he pressed his hands against his throat, trying to staunch the flow of blood that wouldn’t slow. Baudin watched him die.

  Then he got the gun and put two rounds into Dennis Walk’s head. Another sound startled him, and he turned. The girl was still alive. He took out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  47

  The next morning, Baudin was still in the hospital. They had stitched him up and put him on antibiotics, but the knife had missed all his major organs. The hook had left large wounds that would need surgery, and infection was the doctors’ main concern now.

  While the nurse went off to care for other patients, Baudin snuck outside and lit a cigarette. He stood next to a bench in front of the hospital and smoked. Dixon rolled up, got out of his car, and approached Baudin. He sat down on the bench, and Baudin sat next to him.

  “That was his mother that attacked you,” Dixon said. “SIS and the FBI are up there right now.”

  “Who called the feds?”

  “Jessop did. He thought this was too big for us.”

  “Bullshit. He didn’t want the work. Easier to let them take it now that Walk’s dead.”

  Dixon didn’t say anything for a moment. “They think they found the remains of at least thirty girls. I knew a few of them from my beat cop days. Streetwalkers.”

  Baudin nodded. “They’re easy to get up to the farm.”

  “They think he was hiding the… meat, I guess you’d call it, by putting the bodies in grinders at Grade A. It was his dad’s business, and he had all the codes to get in after hours. They think the machine burnt a fuse or something before Hannah could be… anyway, burnt-out fuse, man. This guy would’ve kept on killing if it weren’t for a burnt-out fuse.”

  “Burnt fuse… he would’ve killed for decades.”

  “Lucky, I guess.”

  “No such thing as luck. It was just his time.”

  Dixon swallowed and looked out over the parking lot. “You should know something.” He paused. “Yesterday was my last day as a detective.”

  Baudin looked at him. “You’re quitting?”

  “I’m… transferring. The DA’s office. I’m going to be a full-time investigator for them.”

  “The DA’s office?”

  He nodded.

  Baudin’s heart dropped. He felt ice in his guts. “That’s why you got out. That’s why those photos disappeared. You struck a deal with him.”

  “I’m not gonna spend the rest of my life in prison, man. I need to be with my wife and kid. They need me. What happened was a mistake, a terrible mistake, but it don’t make nothin’ better by having me rot away in a cell.”

  Baudin was on his feet now, though the pain of sudden movement made him wince. “What did he promise you?”

  “This all goes away. But I have to work for him.”

  Baudin bent down to look into his eyes. “He’s the devil, Kyle. Everything you became a cop to fight against.”

  Dixon shook his head. “I’m not gonna die in a prison cell.”

  “So you’d rather be his fucking hit man? That’s why we had to go to the Walk farm, right? Sandoval saw Walk as a liability, and he sent us over to take him out, right? Tell me I’m fucking right, Kyle.”

  “You’re right. It was a way for me to prove I’m loyal.”

  “Loyal?” Baudin turned away. He couldn’t even look at him. “You can’t do this, man.�
��

  “It’s already done. The transfer’s been approved. I just came to say goodbye.”

  Baudin turned and faced him. “And what if he has you do something that has me come after you? You gonna kill me, too, Kyle?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

  “He fucking kills people that get in his way. That’s the reason he became district attorney. It’s the most powerful position in the county. This is his county, and you’re kidding yourself if you think he won’t kill anyone that stands up to him.”

  “It’s this or prison, man. I won’t do it. That kid needs me.”

  “Fuck you, Kyle.” He got within an inch of his face. “Fuck. You. You and me, we’re done.”

  48

  Keri came one afternoon and picked Baudin up. He rushed out of the hospital without saying anything to anyone. He had no stomach for it. When he got into her car, he turned to her and kissed her passionately. The kiss felt so good, as if they were the only two people in the world and no one else mattered.

  “Marry me,” he whispered, pulling away.

  “What?” she giggled.

  “Marry me. I’m serious. Marry me right now, and let’s move to California. Today.”

  “Ethan, we’ve only been—”

  “Bullshit. You know. Everyone knows when it happens, and it happened to us. I know you feel it. We’re supposed to be together. Marry me and move to California. I’m sick of this desert. I can’t be here anymore. You tell me all the time how much you hate it. We’ll get a condo on the beach, right on the water. You’ll wake up every day to the sounds of the gulls and the waves rolling onto the sand. But we have to do it now. Marry me right now, and let’s go. If we’re here any longer, this place will suck us up. We’ll take the girls out of school and go today. We can send for our stuff. Let’s just go.”

  She held his gaze. Her eyes were beautiful, sparkling and blue. He wondered why he had never noticed them before that moment.