Thick Fog (Alexis Parker Book 18)

by G. K. Parks

  “What happened to her parents’ belongings?” O’Connell asked.

  “Anything of value was sold and probably put against their outstanding debts. The rest probably got left behind.”

  “So it’s still home,” I said, recalling the canned food and the air mattress. “She’s waiting for them to come home.” That thought broke my heart.

  Stacy shrugged. “It’s a tough situation. She’s run away five times in the last year.”

  Heathcliff watched me over the woman’s shoulder. “How long has she been missing?”

  “A day and a half,” Stacy said.

  “Do you know how she gets inside the building?” I asked.

  “There’s an opening in the laundry room. It’s too small for an adult. It’s almost too small for her, but she squeezes through,” Stacy said.

  “Can you show us?” Lucca asked.

  “Sure. Will your partner mind keeping an eye on her a little longer?” she asked Nick.

  “Nah, they’re good. If they get bored, they’ll get more ice cream.”

  We tromped through the grass on ground level, and Stacy knelt down to reveal a rectangular square where the exhaust hose from the dryer had once connected. Now it just left an opening big enough for a large raccoon or a small child to fit through. “There.” She pointed. “That’s how I think she gets inside. The contractors were supposed to have boarded it up.”

  “That doesn’t help us any,” I said.

  “We’ll figure it out,” O’Connell promised.

  My phone rang, and I quietly excused myself and stepped away from the group. Except it wasn’t my phone. It was the burner.

  I spun, searching for Francisco Steele. I didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean anything.

  “Hello?”

  “I don’t remember inviting you over,” Steele said.

  I scanned the faces on the street. The police were out in force. They had barriers set up and a perimeter. Steele wasn’t here, or he was disguised. I looked up, checking the windows of nearby buildings.

  “Don’t waste your time. You won’t find me,” he said, and I knew he was watching.

  “Since you’ve been paying my friends a visit, I thought I should return the favor.”

  “You could have put out some hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Check the micro.”

  I bristled. My fists clenching as Steele laughed. I’d kill him.

  “I see you brought Hotshot with you.”

  I turned to see Heathcliff speaking to Thompson and Sophie. “Leave him alone,” I growled.

  His voice went hard. “That’s not how this works. I make the rules, remember? Or do you need a reminder?”

  “No, I remember.”

  “So you intentionally chose to ignore the one thing I told you to do. You can’t deceive me, chica. I’m on to your tricks.”

  “What tricks?”

  “What tricks?” he barked. “According to this, you haven’t left the business district since I gave you the phone. But clearly, you’re not where you should be. Want to explain that?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, you’ll have your chance.” He fought to contain his rage. “Very soon, in fact. But first, I’ll have to do something to make you understand this is my game. I control what happens. Where you go. What you do. Who lives. And who doesn’t. Not you, chica. Me. I let you save that geek last night. That was all me, but only because you were willing to obey. Have you forgotten that lesson already?”

  My fists clenched so hard my fingernails cut into my palms. “You’re insane.”

  “Insanity is pretending to be a coked-out whore. Insanity is thinking you can lock someone away for decades at a time without any repercussions. I’m not insane. I know the truth. I control people’s fates. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve destroyed? How many I’ve saved? They worship at my feet. Beg for my help. I’m a god. Their god.”

  “You’re pathetic. Are you drinking the Kool-aid or just serving it? Let me guess, you started your own church too.”

  “Find me, and I’ll let you worship at my altar. But this is your last chance, chica. I want you to dance for me. You remember the VIP lounge and the back room? Come alone. And I mean alone. I’ll be waiting.”

  “What happens if I don’t?”

  “You’ll see precisely how godlike I am. It’ll take the street sweepers weeks to pick up all the entrails.”

  “Francisco, please.” Begging worked last night. I had to hope it’d work again.

  “Do what I say and do it now. If you listen, I’ll consider letting you save one more worthless pig’s life. But hurry, he’s all tied up at the moment and waiting for your performance.”

  The phone clicked. “Francisco?” I swallowed, my fingers cramping around the phone. “Steele, are you there?” I yanked the phone away from my ear. “Fuck.”

  Thirty-two

  Heathcliff took one look at me and sprinted across the street. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. I had to get out of here. I had to stop Steele from killing again. The bandages taped to Derek’s arm and hand made my head spin. “He knows we’re here. He wants you dead.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t look around. He stared straight at me. “You need to leave. You saw what he hung on the walls. He wants you. We won’t let him get what he wants. I won’t let him get what he wants.”

  “I’m not the only one he’s after. He’s itching for payback. He wants revenge on you too.” I studied the windows in the building across the street, fearing Steele could have a sniper rifle trained on us. Could that have been what caused the grooves on the window sill? “He’s watching us right now. You need to get out of sight.”

  “Can’t.” Heathcliff fingered his belt. “My badge says otherwise.” He unclipped the radio stuck to his chest. “Dispatch, any word yet on the address I gave you?”

  “Working on it,” came the response.

  “Well, work faster.” He let go of the radio. “I’ll figure this out, okay? Right now, you need to duck and cover.”

  “No.” I stared into his eyes. “Steele’s going to kill again if I don’t do what he wants. I can’t let that happen. I won’t be able to live with myself if…” I inhaled. “Cooper’s dead because this whack job fixated on me. He’ll do it again. I know he will. I have to do what he says. I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”

  Heathcliff grabbed my arm. “What does he want, Alex?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Heathcliff watched me closely, his jaw clenching. “You don’t have a lot of time. I won’t give you a lot of time. Every second you’re alone with him is one too many. And your life matters. You matter to me. Find out who he has and save them. We’ll be right behind you.” Without warning, he took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. “Don’t die,” he whispered before turning and walking back to Thompson.

  “Lucca,” I yelled, “I need to take off. Give me your keys.”

  “Is it Jablonsky?” he asked, tossing them to me.

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I ran to the rental and climbed behind the wheel. Why didn’t I drive here on my own? Now things were messier than they needed to be, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to find Steele. I had to find his next victim.

  Reaching for my phone, I dialed Cross. “Steele just phoned. Where is he?”

  “Somewhere around here.” Cross rattled off the address. “He’s moving fast. He must be in a vehicle. Shit.”

  “What?”

  “He killed the phone. We lost him.”

  “That’s okay. I know where he’s going.” I took a breath. “You’re sure he was moving?”

  “Positive.”

  Inner doubt filled me with fear. What if this was a ploy? Steele could wait for me to vacate the area, then double-back, and make a move on Heathcliff while I was distracted and out of the way. “Call Lt. Moretti. Tell him Steele made contact and give him Steele’s last known location and his new phone number.”

  “
Okay. Where are you going?”

  “Straight to hell.”

  “Do you want a team to meet you?”

  “No.”

  “Are the authorities going with you?”

  “You listened in on the call, Lucien. You heard what Steele said. I can’t risk it.”

  “Tell him to fuck off. This isn’t your problem. You’re not an agent, anymore. The Bureau should have done more to protect its people. It’s not up to you to save them.”

  “They’re my friends. Don’t you understand that?”

  “More than you realize,” he said softly. “Don’t be reckless.”

  “It’s the only way I know how to be.”

  He cleared his throat. “If someone with a badge asks, I will tell them where you went. I won’t obstruct justice or conceal material information in an ongoing investigation. My legal team would not approve of such action. And I’m sure Moretti will ask. Whether you want it or not, help is on the way.”

  “Cross, for once in my life, I’d prefer to do things your way. Keep your mouth shut and the cops out of it. Almeada doesn’t care what you do. You pay him enough, so let your lawyer earn his keep.”

  “You’re wrong, Alex. Mr. Almeada cares a great deal what I do.”

  “Since when?” I yanked the wheel too hard and fishtailed. I had to get to the Black Cat before Steele. “Sorry, I can’t talk. I’m driving.” I hit end call and shoved the phone back in my pocket.

  Unfortunately, Heathcliff and Cross were right. I needed help. Then again, I knew what would happen if I spotted Steele. Putting a bullet through his head wouldn’t be legal, but it might be just. Frankly, I didn’t have the mental or emotional strength to think through the ramifications. I just knew that’s what would happen if I got the opportunity. But Steele would do everything in his power to stay alive. I just hoped his god speech meant he had grown too cocky to consider his own mortality.

  I took the turn too fast and jumped the curb. Luckily, the rental was sturdy enough to make it. Slamming on the brakes, I scanned the parking lot. The Black Cat didn’t open for another two hours. No one would be inside yet. This wasn’t the kind of place where management spent the morning and afternoon prepping for launch. Everyone straggled in, the lights dimmed, the music started, and clothes came off. Not much prep required.

  Predictably, the parking lot was empty. I wondered if I beat Steele here. Did that mean he had his next victim in the car with him? Or was his victim somewhere inside? That possibility propelled me from the car to the front door of the titty bar.

  The metal gate had been lifted. A note was taped to the door. Go in and get comfortable.

  Palming my gun, I tugged on the handle, surprised to find the door unlocked. Inside, the music blared and the spotlights lit the stages. I crept inside, expecting to find an army of KXD members or pieces of Steele’s latest victim strewn about. I didn’t find either.

  “This is a bad idea.” Letting my gun lead the way, I moved forward. The booths and tables were empty. I slid behind the bar, but no one was there. Quickly, I checked the control booth. So far, so good.

  I moved across the room toward the VIP area, which was a series of private booths separated by individual curtains. The first three were empty. Inside the fourth, a black sequined bra and matching boyshorts hung from the chairback. On the seat was another note. This time, you’ll only dance for me.

  “In your dreams.” I left the note on the chair and scanned the room for hidden cameras. But Steele wasn’t watching.

  I checked the two remaining private lounge areas, but I didn’t find anything. Steele’s latest victim had to be here. Somewhere. This was just like last night at the club. Steele wasn’t making this easy.

  Leaving the VIP area, I ducked into the back hallway and kicked open the locker room door. My thoughts went to Veronica, the stripper who narced on Steele. Without thinking, I reached for my phone to call Director Kendall. I had to know if her location remained secure, but I forced my hand out of my pocket. Steele said no cops. I couldn’t call to ask, not yet. All I could do was hope Heathcliff would take the initiative.

  A plastic Stop N’ Shop bag caught my eye. It hung from the edge of the mirror, but there was nothing inside. Was this his next murder weapon? Did that mean I beat him here? That I could stop him from killing again?

  I left the bag hanging. I wanted to search every locker in the room, but that would take too long. I didn’t have the time to open them, even if I had thought to bring a crowbar or bolt cutters, which I did not.

  After checking behind the stages, the storeroom, and the bathrooms, I found myself in front of the last door in the hallway. This was where Officer Aronne had been tortured and beaten. Holding my breath, I twisted the knob, only to find it locked.

  I tucked my gun into my shoulder holster and dug the lock picks out of my pocket. I didn’t have time for this. My insides quivered, and I forced my hands to stop shaking. Every fiber in my being told me I didn’t want to see what was behind the door.

  When the last tumbler gave way, I tucked away the picks, grabbed my gun, and pressed my back against the wall. The last thing I needed was to get blown away by another of Steele’s booby traps. Slowly, I turned the knob and inched open the door. Thankfully, nothing exploded.

  The office contained a metal desk and chair. I stepped inside, careful to check for tripwires or other traps. Photographs covered the top of the desk. A few more sat in the print tray of the nearby inkjet. A cheap throwaway phone hung from a cable still attached to the printer.

  I picked up the photo, running my gloved fingers over the glossy paper. The ink smudged, leaving a dark trail on the tips of the latex. Spinning, I aimed at the doorway. Steele had to be here. The printing was still fresh. The ink hadn’t even dried.

  “Francisco?” I called, hurrying into the hallway. Searching left and right, I considered my options. The backstage area was a maze with curtains leading onto the various stages and the hallway jutting off in three different directions. How had I missed him? “Steele?” I tried again.

  Silence.

  One of the curtains fluttered. Gripping my gun tighter, I went up the three steps to the back of the stage. The curtain moved again. I charged forward, expecting to meet resistance on the other side. Instead, the heavy curtain separated as I emerged onto the main stage.

  Shifting my aim from right to left, I did a double then triple take. The stage was empty. Suddenly, the main spotlight came on, blinding me. I shielded my eyes with one hand. Red and white blobs floated in front of my retinas.

  I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see anything. I took a step back, the light tracking me, keeping me blind. I ducked back behind the curtain, hoping my vision would clear. I peered out the corner of the curtain. He had to be in the control booth, operating the lights. The bastard wanted me to dance for him. He just didn’t realize we were about to tango.

  By the time I went around the stage, popping up beside the bar and close to the control room, the spotlight had turned off. The alcove behind the bar was empty. Where did he go? I turned, searching the room, feeling like I was chasing a ghost.

  Again, I checked the main room, behind the buffet, under the tables, and in the booths. From here, I could see no one had entered the VIP area. Still, with the way the hallway wrapped around the back stage from both ends, Steele and I could play Ring Around the Rosy all day. This wasn’t working.

  “Francisco,” I tried again, “I thought you wanted me to dance for you.”

  Nothing.

  I grabbed a chair and used it as a step to climb onto the high stage. Maybe I could cut him off from the middle. I made it to the curtains when the spotlight turned on again. This time, I spun and fired, taking out the annoying light source. Then I jumped off the stage and ran to the control booth. He wouldn’t get away from me this time.

  And yet, he wasn’t there. How could that be? I would have seen him. There was no cover between the bar and the hallway or the bar and the tables. It didn’t make
any sense. He couldn’t just vanish into thin air. There had to be an explanation.

  I leaned over to check the control panel. A few lights illuminated the system. But without clear labels, I didn’t know what any of the toggle switches did. Thinking back, I didn’t remember anyone ever working the controls. Joe would just turn everything off at the end of the night. Could it be automated?

  I stepped out of the alcove and stared up at the rigging. Steele had proven last night he could find creative places to leave his victims, and since the spotlight had followed my movements, maybe he had been up there moving it around. But there was no catwalk or walkway of any kind. The lights were directly attached to the ceiling. What was going on?

  Before I could figure it out, the front door opened. With the bright afternoon sun behind him, the only thing I could make out was his silhouette. Clearly, he had a gun aimed at me.

  “Drop it,” I yelled.

  He didn’t comply immediately, so I fired a warning shot to the right of his head. It impacted against the metal doorframe, making it clang and rattle.

  “Whoa.” He held his gun up and to the side. “Take it easy. It’s me. It’s Lucca.”

  “Eddie?” I lowered my gun and dashed across the club toward him. “Steele’s here. Or he was. Did you see anything outside?” I cautioned a quick glance into the parking lot, spotting Lucca’s rental and an unmarked cruiser, which I assumed he borrowed.

  “No.”

  “All right. We need to split up.” We cleared the main room again, converging on the rear hallway from opposite ends. I checked the office and the other rooms. No sign of Steele. Eddie did the same, hitting the locker room and bathrooms on his way. We met in the middle, behind the main stage.

  “I’ll check out back,” Lucca said.

  I bit my lip and nodded. The photos had just been printed. I couldn’t have missed Steele by more than a few minutes. How did he get past me?