by D P Lyle
Cain nodded. “Nothing to charge them with. No probable cause for getting a warrant to search their properties. And even trying to do so might put the guy we want on alert.”
“And he’d get rid of everything?”
“Exactly. And would get messy. A good defense attorney would have a field day with such a shotgun approach. Wouldn’t it be better to know? Have proof?”
Bradford took a slow breath, let it out even slower. “So, what’s your plan?”
“Let me talk to Carlos and his guys. Maybe I can convince them to come clean.”
“Or get yourself killed?”
“I’m still on the inside. They think I can make them rich. Maybe even clean up this mess for them. If I can persuade Munoz and Reyes to pick out the right guy, we’re ahead of the game.”
Bradford considered that, then said, “You don’t think Luis calling Carlos, telling him you were in Vegas asking questions, might queer the deal?”
“Maybe. But I told Carlos I wasn’t happy about him selling girls locally. That I’d make that situation right and in the future all sales would be offshore.”
Bradford sighed. “This is some sick shit.”
“It is. But if I can show Carlos that visiting Luis was simply part of the plan to clean all this up, maybe I can convince him to let me take care of the buyer. That way Carlos won’t have to get his hands dirty. Makes him and his guys free and clear.”
“You think he’ll buy that?”
“Worth a try.”
“Let’s say that works. What then?”
“You can have Carlos and his crew. Harper and I will head south. Try to sort out the real killer.”
Bradford scratched the back of one hand. “Does Laura Cutler know any of this?”
“She’s on our call list,” Harper said.
CHAPTER 53
They mustered in the PD’s backlot. Bradford, Harper, Cain, a quartet of uniforms, and a six-man SWAT crew, all dressed for combat. Bradford unfolded a map on the hood of his car.
“We’ll approach here,” Bradford said. He indicated the street that ran along the opposite side of the block from Carlos’ cute little craftsman. Three houses from the corner. “We’ll park along here.” He pointed at the cross street. “All unmarked cars.” He glanced at the SWAT guys. “No van. Is that a problem?”
The leader of the SWAT crew, young guy named Vince Givens, shook his head. “None. We got all we need.” He held up his automatic assault weapon, a Heckler & Koch MP5.
“Once you get through the door,” Bradford nodded to Cain, “we’ll deploy. SWAT along the rear and sides, me and the officers out front.”
“And me?” Harper asked.
“You’ll stay with the cars.”
She squared her shoulders. “Not likely.”
Bradford looked at her.
“I’ll go with the SWAT team. Work my way to the rear door and crack it if need be.”
Bradford now glanced at Cain.
“She’s been in more fire fights than you can imagine,” Cain said. “More dangerous places than this.”
“But…”
“But, nothing,” Harper said. “If Bobby’s going in, I’m going to be close by.” She smiled. “We’re not negotiating here.”
“It’ll be fine,” Cain said. He looked at Harper. “Even welcomed.”
She shrugged. “Just like Kandahar.”
“This isn’t Afghanistan,” Bradford said. “And you’re a civilian.”
“So is Bobby.”
Bradford hesitated. “Okay.” Then, to Harper, “Stay with the SWAT guys.”
She nodded.
Bradford’s cell rang. He answered, walking a few feet away. He mostly listened, then ended the call. “We might have a problem. I had a couple of guys do a drive by. Unmarked car. Two young girls just went inside.”
“I’ll get rid of them,” Cain said.
“How?”
“Leave it to me.”
“We can’t risk a confrontation if there are a pair of civilians in there.”
“They won’t be,” Cain said. “Just give me a couple of minutes after I get in. Wait until they leave before you deploy.”
“Might be best to detain them,” one of the SWAT guys said. “Just in case they sense something and make a call.”
Cain nodded. “If you can do it without making a scene.”
Fifteen minutes later everyone was in place, staged just around the corner. Cain parked at the curb in front of Carlos’ place. A VW bug sat in the drive. The girls’ ride. He rapped on the door. One of the girls answered, holding it for him as he entered.
She was twenty, max, as was her friend who sat on the living room sofa. Each wore short shorts and tank tops. In the den, Carlos faced his computer and swiveled toward Cain.
“Mister Faulkner. How’s it going?” Carlos asked. No smile.
“Fine. But we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”
Cain nodded toward the living room, the girls. “Alone.”
Carlos considered that. He yelled toward the door to the living room. “Darla, Simone, get in here.”
Cain heard one of them huff out something. Sounded like “Jesus.”
The pair appeared at the doorway. Hands on hips.
“Why don’t you guys run over to the liquor store?” Carlos said. “Grab a couple of bottles of tequila.”
“We just got here,” one of them said.
“And now you’re leaving.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a wad of crumpled bills.
Another huff. She fisted the money and they left. Not happy.
Munoz and Reyes came from the kitchen area. They stood side by side, Munoz with a gun stuffed in his jeans, arms folded over his chest. Cain didn’t see a weapon on Reyes, but no doubt he had one. Probably along his waist in the back.
Carlos swiveled his chair back and forth. “You had a talk with Luis? In Vegas?”
Cain took a chair. “I did.” He slid his hand along his right thigh as if wiping away sweat, actually tugging the secret zipper down a couple of inches. Just in case.
“Want to tell me why?” Carlos asked.
“I told you, I need to clean up your mess.”
“My mess?”
Munoz shifted his weight, hooked a thumb in his belt near his weapon.
“You sold Cindy Grant to a local,” Cain said. “A guy who did some unpleasant things to her. Attracted much unwanted attention.”
“So?”
“Not to mention the girl is the granddaughter of General William Kessler.”
“Again, so?”
“You don’t see the problem there? Kessler’s connected. And no fool. And from what I hear, tough as nails. Not someone who would turn the other cheek. And your guy, the purchaser, has put a spotlight on everything.” Cain waved a hand. “Created a trail that could come back your way.”
“It won’t.”
Cain raised an eyebrow. “My sources tell me that Kessler has hired someone to track the guy down.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know. But it means that someone besides the cops is sniffing around the girl’s disappearance.”
Carlos leaned forward. Elbows on his knees. “We can handle it.”
“I told you I would,” Cain said. “I’ve already made some progress.”
“What might that be?”
#
Harper and the SWAT guys had gained a position on a small rear patio near the back door. Kneeling and peering over the kitchen window sill afforded her a look through the kitchen and into another room. She saw Munoz and Reyes, their backs to her. Beyond them, Carlos sat in a chair, hunched forward. Elbows on his knees. Talking. To Cain no doubt. He wasn’t visible.
Munoz shifted his weight. Shoulders erect. Uneasy. Reyes moved a hand to his back as if scratching. Lifting his untucked shirt. She saw the gun stuffed in the waist of his pants.
“I’m going in,” Harper said.
“No,” Givens said. “We don’t have ord
ers for that.”
She turned to him. “Something’s getting ready to go down.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Body language.” She reached for the rear door knob and twisted it. Unlocked. She pulled her Glock and eased the door open.
#
“Identifying the buyer is obviously the critical factor here,” Cain said. “Luis seemed the best place to start.” Cain nodded toward Munoz and Reyes. “Your guys couldn’t ID the guy who bought the girls. I figured Luis might.”
“Did he?” Munoz asked.
“Almost.” Cain looked at him. “He saw the same photo you did. He recognized the same guys you did.”
“We told you we didn’t know any of those dudes in the photo,” Munoz said. A smirk on his face.
Cain sighed. “But you did.” Reyes started to say something but Cain waved him away. “Which one was it?”
Munoz’s eyes narrowed. Reyes shuffled a couple of steps to his right. Smart move. Creating separation. Angles. His hand was behind his back. Cain had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but the odds of that were declining. He shifted forward on the chair, quietly lowering the zipper a couple of more inches. His hand now lay over the knife’s handle.
“We’re on the same page here,” Cain said to Carlos. “Once this guy is taken off the board, we can get on with our business.”
Carlos scratched his chin. “You see, I’m starting to have my doubts about you.”
“In what way?” He worked the knife loose, the handle now firmly across his palm.
“You come out of nowhere. Adam brings you here. You have this unbelievable plan. Wave money in front of me, thinking I’ll buy it.”
Cain shrugged. “If you want out, that’s fine. I’m sure we can find someone else in the neighborhood to work with.”
Carlos’ face went hard. “Probably not.”
“I see.”
“Do you? I’m thinking we do indeed need to clean house.” He nodded toward Munoz. “In fact, we’ve already started.”
“With Adam Parker?” Cain asked. He smiled. “Yes, I know about that.”
Carlos gave a quick nod. “Mister Faulkner, I’m afraid you’ve become a liability I can’t afford.”
“Too bad.”
“Yes, it is.”
Things happened fast.
Munoz reached for his gun.
Cain pulled the knife, flung it toward him. It entered just left of his trachea, severing the carotid. Blood erupted. Munoz’s weapon discharged, punching a hole in the coffee table near Cain’s knee.
Reyes’ hand came from behind his back. He raised his weapon.
Cain rolled from his chair and spun behind it. Another discharge. The bullet tore through the top edge of the chair back and slapped into the wall behind him. He had the other knife in his hand. Coiled, ready to rise and throw.
“Don’t fucking move.” Harper’s voice boomed from behind Reyes.
He turned that way, his weapon following. The bullet struck him in the middle of his forehead and he dropped. Two SWAT guys and Harper entered the room.
Carlos sat frozen, eyes taking up half his face. Munoz, who had been gurgling and writhing on the floor, one hand clutching at the knife, fell silent. Bradford and the two uniforms came through the front door, service weapons in hand.
“Jesus,” Bradford said.
Cain stood. “They made bad choices.” He waved the knife toward Carlos.
“What the fuck?” Carlos said.
Cain smiled, nodded toward Harper. “We’re the ones General Kessler hired.”
Carlos visibly deflated. Cain stepped toward him, grabbed a handful of his hair, and slammed him to the floor. His head bounced off the carpet. Cain settled a knee into his chest.
“Cain, what are you doing?” Bradford said.
Cain didn’t look his way, keeping his gaze locked on Carlos. Fear now dripped off him. “I have a couple of questions for my business partner.”
Carlos heaved, tried to move. Cain leaned into him, driving his knee more firmly into his chest.
“Are you sure you don’t know who bought Cindy?”
“No. I told you.”
“Why would I believe you?”
“It’s true.” Carlos was breathing hard now. Sweat frosted his face.
“And you’ve had no other contact with him?”
A slight flutter of his eyelids, pupils expanding.
“You have,” Cain said.
“No.”
Cain raised his other knife. He directed it toward Carlos’ right eye, resting the point in the soft tissues beneath.
Bradford started to say something, but Harper grabbed his arm.
“Tell me,” Cain said. “Or I’ll pluck your eyes out right here, right now.”
Carlos whimpered. “I told you I…”
The knife point broke the skin, a trickle of blood appearing.
“Try again,” Cain said.
“Okay. Okay. He bought another girl.”
“When?”
“A couple of days ago. Reyes and Munoz delivered her just like before.”
CHAPTER 54
Cain and Harper stood outside Carlos’ house. The SWAT guys were packing up; the two girls huddled in the back of a police cruiser. Their expressions were somewhere between fear and bewilderment. Carlos, handcuffed, now sporting a small band aid beneath his right eye, sat in the back of another cruiser. He glared at Cain.
Cain walked toward him, leaned down to speak through the window, lowered only six inches. “You sure you don’t know the guy who bought the girls?” Cain asked.
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe you should consider your situation. You’re already going down as part of a murder conspiracy. If he does something to the girl he has, the one you sold to him, that’ll up the ante.”
“So?”
“Probably double the time you get. Bump twenty years up to fifty, or life without.”
“I don’t know the dude. I told you that.”
“Never saw him?”
“No.”
Cain nodded. “What about the girl? Who is she?”
Carlos turned his gaze toward the front windshield. Thinking, considering. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked back toward Cain. “Chelsie Young. She worked for me for a few months. But started making noises like she wanted out.” A one shouldered shrug. “So I figured I might as well squeeze out a final payment.”
“You’re a real peach, Carlos. I hope they burn you up in court.” He smiled. “I know I’ll be there to give the jury my part of the story.”
Cain walked away.
Bradford approached. “That could’ve gone better.”
“Or worse,” Harper said.
Bradford gave a quick nod. “What now?”
“We’re headed south. Hook up with Laura Cutler. See if we can find the other young lady before something bad happens.” Cain nodded toward Carlos. “He gave up her name. Chelsie Young.”
“I take it she worked for him?” Bradford asked.
Cain nodded. “She planned to quit the life. Quit Carlos, anyway.”
“I’ll get someone on looking into her.” Bradford scratched the back of one hand. “You still thinking it’s either Martin Stenson, his son, or that Norris dude?”
“That’s the working theory. Of course, the trick now is proving which one.”
“What’s the plan?” Bradford asked.
“We’re working on it,” Harper said.
Bradford nodded. “I’ll need to sit down with each of you and get an official statement soon.”
“As soon we get back from Moss Landing.”
Cain and Harper swung by home, changed clothes, packed a few more, and stuffed the equipment they might need into two black gear bags. Cain called Cutler, told her they were headed her way, and had some news.
“Good news, or bad?” Cutler asked.
“Depends on your perspective. We have a good idea
who we’re looking for. At least, the suspect list seems to be down to three.”
“Who?”
Cain hesitated.
“Tell me,” Cutler said.
“Martin Stenson, Tyler, or Ted Norris.”
“What? How did you come up with that?”
“A witness. He couldn’t tell which one but it was one of the three.”
“Who’s this witness?”
“A valet in Vegas. The guy who sent our guy to Carlos.”
“Jesus.”
“It gets worse,” Cain said.
“Of course it does,” Cutler said.
“He has another girl.”
“Down here?”
“Probably. It’s where he lives.”
“Are you sure?” Cutler asked.
“Carlos said he sold a girl named Chelsie Young to him a couple of days ago.”
She sighed heavily. “I think it’s time to go roust the Stensons, and Ted Norris.”
“No. Sit tight. We have a couple of ideas on how to prove it one way or the other.”
“There’s a girl in danger and you want me to twiddle my thumbs?”
“Exposing your hand now might put her in a worse situation,” Cain said. Cutler said nothing, obviously considering that. “We’re heading out of Nashville right now. I’ll call when we get close and we can meet somewhere.”
“You sure know how to screw up a day.”
“Sorry. See you in an hour or so.”
Cain navigated the thick traffic and soon was out of the city, cruising down I-24 toward Murfreesboro. That’s when Mama B called.
“You’re going to love what I’ve got,” she said.
The phone was blue-toothed through the Mercedes sound system.
“We usually do,” Harper said.
“I did some digging into the Stensons and their buddy Ted Norris. The father seems bland and clean. Norris about the same. Not much there. A DUI, couple of parking lot fights. But, Tyler? He’s a whole different story.”
“Okay,” Cain said. “Tell us.”
“He definitely manages one of his father’s companies. Doesn’t seem to take much time on his part. They mostly run themselves. Lots of free time it seems. He has no record, no run-ins with the law, not even a parking ticket.”
“But?” Harper asked.
