Angels (Nevada James #3) (Nevada James Mysteries)

by Matthew Storm

  “He meant well putting you on a desk, too. How are you enjoying that?” She winced and I immediately felt bad. “Sorry. It’s just…I feel like a sitting duck in here. He’s gone too far this time.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah said. “I’m with you on that one. When he said you’d been arrested I thought maybe you were drinking again and got into some shit. Not that he was responsible for it.”

  “This one’s all him,” I said. “You should get out of here. It’ll be better if he doesn’t walk in and see us still talking. He might think we’re conspiring.”

  “We are conspiring.”

  “He doesn’t know that, though. Let’s keep him from finding out.”

  Sarah gave me a quick hug and then knocked on the window for the guard to let her out. I was left alone in my cell. I had another half hour to pace before Dan showed up. I watched through the window as he talked to the guards at their station, and then as he took a large manila envelope from them. He’d better be praying my gun was in there.

  A minute later one of the guards let him into the cell. “Leave us alone,” Dan said to him as I waited with clenched fists. “This won’t take long.” The guard shut the door and walked away.

  Dan looked around the cell as if he’d never seen the inside of one before. “Kind of sparse,” he said. “You enjoying yourself in here?”

  My hands were still fists. “Give me my fucking gun,” I growled.

  “No.”

  “Dan…” I managed to stop myself from finishing the sentence. I’d been about to launch into a string of curses. “Give me the gun. Right now.”

  He held up the envelope but didn’t hand it to me. “We’re going to talk first.”

  That was it. “You fucking piece of shit asshole…” I began.

  “You want to spend the night in here?”

  I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Really?” He looked around. “I dared this, didn’t I? How far do you want to push me, Nevada?”

  Now I was starting to shake. “This is so far beyond…” I started again.

  “I’m not sure it is,” he said. His casual tone was getting the better of me. It was just as well he didn’t give my gun back. I would have had a hard time not beating him with it.

  “You put me in a goddamn cell,” I said. “You took my gun away. My gun, Dan. Do you know how big a deal that is?”

  “It’s hard to get your attention,” he said. “This certainly did it.”

  “You think?”

  “Tell me what you’re doing on the Krystal Harris case.”

  The urge to get physical with him was becoming overwhelming, but that was a line I’d never crossed and I didn’t want to do it now. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take before I did, though. I couldn’t remember being as angry at him as I was right now any time recently. Or possibly ever. “I’m catching a goddamn murderer,” I said. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “Acting like a crazy person,” he said. “Acting like someone who doesn’t have to answer to anyone. Acting like you can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Guess what, Nevada? You can’t.”

  “I asked some questions, Dan. If people don’t like that then it’s their problem.”

  “You aren’t a goddamn cop!” he shouted. Now there was the rage I’d been expecting when he’d walked in here. I preferred it. It was easier to face than the smarmy attitude he’d been giving me. He glared at me. “You’re not a cop, Nevada. You can’t go around acting like you are.”

  “I’ve been really fucking clear with everyone I’ve talked to that I’m not a cop,” I said.

  “I wonder if…” He stopped. “Everyone you’ve talked to?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Dan shook his head. “Jesus, Nevada. You walk around doing whatever comes into your head. You ignore the fact that I already have detectives, actual police detectives, working on this case.”

  “How are they doing with it?” I asked. “Really got their noses to the grindstone, do they? Are they up burning the midnight oil every night? I know trying to find the person that killed a homeless drug addict must be right at the top of their list. I bet they don’t sleep.”

  Dan opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly. “That’s not fair,” he said. “They’re doing their jobs.”

  “And I’m doing mine.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a badge. I recognized it. It had been mine. “Do you want this?” he asked. “You want this back, Nevada? You want to come back to us and do things by the rules? All you have to do is raise your hand and take an oath.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he said. He put the badge back in his pocket and gave me an exasperated look. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

  I took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of myself. Fighting with him wasn’t going to get me out of this cell, and it wasn’t going to put my gun back in my hand where it belonged. If I gave him too much shit he might just get mad enough to make me spend the night here. I didn’t care for that thought at all. I needed to try a different tack. “You don’t need to do anything,” I said. My voice sounded calmer than it had before, but it was taking a lot of effort. “I’m not…I’m not putting myself in danger. I’m not hurting anyone.”

  “But you are running around like you’re Hurricane Nevada.”

  I blinked. “Oh,” I said. That had surprised me. “Hurricane Nevada? I like that.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment!” He sighed. “At least answer me this, Nevada. Why are you doing this? What has gotten into your head that makes you…”

  “It’s my fault,” I said.

  He stopped. Whatever answer he’d expected, that hadn’t been it. “What is?”

  “It’s my fault that Krystal’s dead,” I said. I shrugged. “I did everything wrong. Everything. If I’d done even one goddamn thing right when you told me she’d called for me, even one thing, she’d be alive right now. That’s the truth, Dan. She had information that would have brought you a murderer, and…” I was running out of steam. This was far too true. “Maybe I’d have gotten her into a rehab. Maybe not. I don’t know. But I wouldn’t have another fucking body on my conscience right now. That I know.” I looked up at him. “Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  The anger that had been in Dan’s eyes had faded. He looked at me for a long moment and then shook his head. “Finally you tell me the truth,” he said. “Was that really so hard, Nevada?”

  “Yes. Now give me my fucking gun back.”

  He ignored that request. Maybe I should have said please. “None of what happened is your fault, Nevada. You didn’t pull the trigger.”

  “I can list half a dozen things right now that put her death right on my head,” I said, “and you wouldn’t be able to argue with any of them. So do you really want to have that conversation?”

  “I’m not dumb enough to think I can change your mind about anything,” he said. “God knows I’ve tried that enough times.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But none of that changes that you can’t act like you have been. Either take the oath and put your badge on, or stay the hell out of this.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Do you promise?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Don’t ask me to make promises. You know better than that.”

  “Will you at least tell me…”

  “No,” I said.

  He blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “No,” I repeated. “I’m not going to tell you anything, and I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t…” I thought about what I was trying to say. “I can’t stop being me, Dan. I can’t stop this life. Not unless…” I trailed off. My voice had gotten very small there at the end.

  “Unless what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think…I think I need to take a vacation. Maybe I need to get far away from all o
f this for a while.” I shrugged. I wasn’t going to tell him that what I was thinking of involved a forged passport and a new name. “I’m tired, you know. I need to get some rest for a change. It’s one thing to be sober. It’s great, I guess. But I’m still looking over my shoulder every day to see if the Laughing Man is there.”

  “Jumping through windows.”

  I pointed at my stitches. “I’m still doing shit that makes me look like this, and it’s not like I’m going to stop. I’m just not. But maybe…” I thought about it. “Maybe if I wasn’t here. If I was sitting on a beach somewhere, maybe I could be normal for a while.”

  “You know,” Dan said. “I think that’s a really good idea. Maybe you should head out to Hawaii for a few weeks. Sit on the beach and look at the waves.”

  “I could learn to surf,” I said. I was joking, but it didn’t really sound that bad once I thought about it.

  “Why not?” he said. “You’ve got the money. I don’t know what you’ve been paid for your off-the-books work, but I’m sure it’s a lot.”

  “It is.”

  “So it’s really not such a bad idea, is it? Get out of here for a while, get your head in a good place, and then come back and start fresh.”

  “It does sound pretty good,” I admitted.

  “All right,” Dan said. “So we’re agreed. Now if I let you out of here, will you be good?”

  “Does it matter what I say?” I asked. “You know you can’t actually charge me with anything, and you’re too much a stickler for the rules to hold me here illegally.”

  The side of his mouth turned up in a half-grin. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that,” he said. He patted his suit pocket. “I’m going to hold on to the badge,” he said. “After your vacation, let’s talk about putting it back where it belongs.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Maybe I’ll feel differently.” Well, I knew that wasn’t really true, but telling him what he wanted to hear now was probably the wisest course of action.

  “I hope so,” he said. He handed me the manila envelope that held the items that had been taken from me. I didn’t care much about my wallet, and seeing my phone was nice, but putting my hand back on my Glock was like reconnecting with a long-lost friend. I had to resist the urge to kiss it.

  Dan walked me to the jail’s front door after a guard let us out of the cell. “Take care of yourself, Nevada,” he said. “Let me know what you decide to do. I really think Hawaii might be…”

  “Yeah,” I said quickly. “I will.” But I knew if I left, it wasn’t going to be to go to Hawaii. And I really didn’t know if I’d ever come back.

  Chapter 20

  Dan offered to have a couple patrol cops drive me home, but I decided I didn’t feel like sitting in the back of a police car again. I called a taxi, instead. While I was waiting for it to arrive my cell phone buzzed. It wasn’t a call; it was an alert from my home security system. Someone had rung my doorbell. That wasn’t an unusual thing, but I pulled up a screen to activate a small camera set above my front door. A woman I didn’t recognize was standing there. She was young, maybe in her twenties, but it was hard to make out much more than that. After a moment she rang the bell again, and after waiting for a minute or so she walked away. Maybe it had been another Jehovah’s Witness stopping by to offer me some reading material. The camera clicked itself off when nothing else happened. I decided not to worry about it. If one of the interior alarms was tripped I’d know about it in a hurry. That didn’t happen, though. Five minutes passed with no more activity, so I put the phone back in my pocket and went back to waiting.

  It was getting near rush hour and Ocean Beach had traffic problems, so it was nearly 6:00 pm when I finally reached my house. I’d decided to wait an hour or so and then head back to Samantha’s place. If she was home she’d have lights on, and it would be harder to hide from me.

  As I neared my front door I noticed a blue Celica parked nearby. Its driver’s side door opened and the woman I’d seen on my security camera before got out. She was blonde, pretty, and wore blue jeans and a grey sweater. I still didn’t recognize her, but she didn’t strike me as a Jehovah’s Witness. They usually dressed up a little when they made the rounds. Had to look good to represent God, you know?

  My Glock was under my leather jacket, but she didn’t look particularly threatening so I didn’t reach for it as she took an unsteady step toward me. Was she drunk? I’d used to walk like that all the time. “Can I help you?” I called.

  She took a long look at me. “You’re Nevada James,” she said. Her eyes were glassy. I knew that look, too. She was half in the bag. Had she driven here like that? She’d been lucky not to get pulled over, then.

  “The one and only,” I said. “Do we know each other?”

  “No,” she said. She reached into the purse she carried at her side and took out a small handgun. I shook my head. That had been careless of me. There was no way she’d have ever outdrawn me if she was as trashed as I thought she was, but I hadn’t been expecting it.

  “I have a gun,” she announced, as if I somehow hadn’t seen it. She didn’t point it at me; she just sort of held it in my direction as if she wanted to make a point.

  “Great,” I said. “So do I.” I tapped my jacket. “Let me guess. You’re Samantha?”

  She nodded and waved the gun in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “Just don’t try anything, okay?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, whatever,” I said. “I doubt you could hit me, anyway. It’s really not polite to start a conversation by drawing your gun, you know?” I looked at the pistol. I didn’t recognize the model. “Is that a .32?”

  The question seemed to baffle her. “No.” She looked at the gun as if she was seeing it for the first time. “It’s a nine millimeter.”

  “Good gun,” I said. “People say those don’t have much stopping power, but those people have never been hit by one.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “So what are you doing here, Samantha? I guess I should thank you for saving me the time of finding you, but I’m not going to.”

  She waved the gun in the direction of my house. “Let’s go inside.”

  I thought about going for my gun, or maybe just rushing her, instead. I’d heard once that the best thing to do if someone was shooting at you was to run straight toward them. It’s intimidating and they tend to miss out of their own fear. Adrenaline does a number on aiming. But I was tired. It had been a long day. It had been a long couple of years, really, but who was counting? I wasn’t in the mood for a fight, though, and I didn’t think Samantha was here for one, either. “Fine,” I said. “Try not to shoot me on the way in.”

  I disabled my security system and opened the front door. Samantha followed along behind me, her gun at her side. She was close enough that I could smell the alcohol on her now. “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “Your house was a crime scene,” she said. “It was on the news.” Her eyes were wide. “The Laughing Man killed someone in here.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “It was the last house that was here, really, but I suppose you’re right. Maybe I should have just built a 7-11 here and moved to La Jolla.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Once we were inside Samantha took a look around my living room. “You don’t have any furniture?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Not even chairs?”

  “I live a pretty simple life,” I said. “There are some chairs in the kitchen. And a little table we could sit down at.”

  “Let’s go in there, then,” she said.

  We went into the kitchen and she sat down at the table there before I had a chance to. I pushed my laptop aside and was about to sit down across from her when she asked, “Do you have anything to drink?”

  “Diet soda or water.”

  She shook her head. “Alcohol. I know it said on the news you don’t drink anymore, but maybe…” she trailed off.
<
br />   I thought about saying no, but I didn’t have the energy to lie. I went to the cabinet and took down my bottle of Grey Goose. I’d been saving it for a rainy day, after all. It wasn’t raining, but I guess this counted. I broke the seal on it for the first time and poured two inches of it into a Dixie cup. I put it down in front of her. “I don’t have any real glasses. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. She sniffed the vodka, and then downed the entire thing, making a face as she swallowed. “Oh, god,” she said. “That’s awful.”

  “Not a vodka drinker?” I asked. “That’s the good stuff.”

  “I don’t drink much,” she said. She gave me a curious look. “Join me?”

  I considered it as I sat the bottle down on the table. If I was ever going to break my teetotaler ways, this was as good an excuse as any. But I put that thought aside. “No,” I said.

  “More for me.” She poured another slug of vodka into her cup and downed it.

  “So…” I said. “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you here today.”

  Samantha made a wrinkled face as she thought that over. “What?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve just always wanted to say something like that. It would have been a lot funnier if you weren’t so drunk.”

  “I asked you here.” She shook her head.

  “Not really,” I said. “You just sort of arrived.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Are you wondering why?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I think I’ve got most of it figured out.”

  She nodded again. “They say you’re a great detective.”

  “You know what?” I asked. “I’m not. Not really. I’m not even being modest.” She gave me a skeptical look. “I’m not. I just tend to be in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it.”

  “Oh.”

  I leaned forward. “You know how most crimes are solved? Really?”

  “How?”

  “People talk. I mean, people just can’t keep their mouths shut. Someone robs a bank and you want to know who, go to the nearest bar and sit there for an hour. Some dumbass will be in there talking. Someone’s got money and is buying rounds for the house when yesterday they couldn’t pay their rent. Someone wants to show off their new car. Whatever.”