His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong, Krista?”
“Nothing.”
But he obviously didn’t believe her.
She picked up her drink and decided to change the subject. “I’m worried about Scarlet,” she told him. “This case has taken over her life. She’s obsessed. Even her boyfriend noticed it. Alex called me the other day to see if I could get her to back off from everything, take a break.”
“And?”
“And have you ever tried getting Scarlet to back off? She’s like a pit bull with a steak. Honestly, I’m concerned about her.”
R.J. looked at her a long moment. He swigged his beer, then plunked the glass on the bar and stood. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Where are you going?”
“Work.”
“You’re starting tonight?”
“Hell, yeah, clock’s running.” He smiled. “I don’t like to waste my client’s money.”
Chapter Two
Krista turned down the familiar street and stifled a shudder. The place gave her the creeps, even in the golden light of morning. She pulled over and parked her ancient Chevy Impala along the curb as her phone chimed from the cup holder.
“Are you on the road yet?” she asked Scarlet.
“I left at five, so I’m already making a pit stop and I wanted to leave you a message about my schedule. I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”
“I just finished a run.”
Silence on the other end as Scarlet processed this strange turn of events.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine,” Krista said. Really, she felt terrible. Her legs were like Jell-O and she had a cramp in her side. She’d never been much of a runner. “Actually, I decided to run up in Santa Monica so I’d have a chance to revisit the crime scene.”
“Learn anything new?”
“Not yet. I just got here. So, what’s up besides a check-in call?”
“I wanted to see what you worked out with R.J.,” Scarlet said. “You think he’ll help us?”
“He said he would.”
“Yes.”
Krista could almost see her doing a fist pump. “But he’s expensive,” she added.
“It’s worth it. I bet he finds her in no time. And she’s key to this, Krista. I can feel it.”
Krista climbed out of her car and looked around. It was a warehouse neighborhood, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic. She heard the distant grumble of heavy machinery and the high-pitched beep-beep-beep of a forklift backing up. She spotted a cluster of men loitering on a distant corner and a homeless guy shuffling down the sidewalk, talking to himself.
“So, what’s going on with you two anyway?” Scarlet asked.
“I wish I knew.”
“What’s that mean?”
She sighed. “I told you how he went to Hawaii, right?”
“On business, you said.”
“Yeah, but that’s the thing. I don’t actually believe he had business there. I think it was personal. He’s gone out there three times this year, and those are just the trips I know of. And he won’t talk about it.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yeah, before he left and then again last night. He’s tight-lipped about it.”
“What else is new? R.J.’s tight-lipped about everything. The boy’s not a talker.”
“I don’t know if I can trust him, Scarlet.”
“Trust him with your heart, you mean.”
Krista didn’t say anything. Scarlet knew her way too well. Krista had been burned by her first husband, and now she had some serious hang-ups when it came to men. Especially men she thought weren’t being honest with her.
She shouldn’t get involved with him. She really shouldn’t.
Problem was, she already was involved, way more than she wanted to admit.
“Krista?”
“So, does Gabe know you’re coming?” she asked.
“Nice change of subject.”
“Does he?”
“Nah, I decided not to tell him. He’s been dodging my calls. I figured I’d surprise him.”
Krista didn’t like the sound of that. Yet another reason this whole trip might be a waste of time and money.
“I’ll call you later, let you know how things go,” Scarlet said.
“Be careful.”
“You, too.”
Krista tucked her phone into her pocket and glanced around, still uneasy for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint. After all, it was broad daylight.
The place was more or less the same as it had been three years ago at the time of the shooting. There were a few different signs, some new graffiti. But the streets smelled nauseatingly familiar, a combination of car exhaust and street filth.
She glanced at the sign on the corner. She was standing in the precise location where the patrol officer had pulled over Riley Campbell on that fateful night.
Krista walked past a boarded-up storefront. She glanced around and felt that pang of frustration that had been dogging her for months now.
Scarlet couldn’t let this go.
Maybe she was right not to.
She’d been shot three times. She could have died. She would have if Krista hadn’t rushed into the warehouse in time to keep her from bleeding out.
And it hadn’t been a random shooting. Scarlet had been called to that warehouse by someone claiming to be Gabe. Scarlet believed she’d been set up for an ambush. And she believed whoever had orchestrated the ambush had some tie to the Vartarian clan. Scarlet had a lot of hunches about this case, but so far, she couldn’t prove them, and the original police investigation into the matter had gone nowhere, possibly due to the Vartarians’ wealth and connections.
From an investigative perspective—or really, any perspective—the case was a nightmare.
Whenever bad things happened in Krista’s life, her M.O. was to muscle through and move on. Her divorce. The shooting. Her resignation from L.A.P.D.
Krista didn’t see the point of dwelling on the past.
Scarlet was different. For one thing, she’d come from long line of cops. She’d grown up believing she was born to wear a badge. And to have that dream ripped away from her… Krista knew it seemed unnatural to Scarlet. And although Scarlet was a damn good private investigator and she loved the autonomy of running her own business, Krista knew she’d never gotten over being pushed out of the job she loved.
Krista scanned the scene, trying to visualize it from all the different angles. Scarlet was right about one thing. Riley Campbell had to have witnessed something. During the traffic stop, her car had been facing a street corner that happened to be along the only exit route for any car fleeing the crime scene. The warehouse where the shooting had gone down was on a dead-end street, so unless the perpetrator had scaled a fence topped with razor-wire—a theory the CSIs had discounted—he had to have fled past this corner, either on foot or in a vehicle.
And Riley Campbell most likely had seen him.
But had whatever she’d seen had something to do with her disappearance? Krista didn’t know, but she had to admit that the timing seemed odd, right after the shooting. The way Riley had picked up and moved was odd, too.
Normally, when people relocated, they left a trail. Maybe they gave a forwarding address where a landlord could send a security deposit. Or maybe they got where they were going and applied for a new lease, which would generate a credit check. Or they’d set up new utilities. Riley Campbell had done none of those things, and Krista had looked. So wherever she’d gone, it was probably far away from here.
Krista glanced down the block. The homeless guy was shuffling toward her now, still talking to himself. The glint of interest in his eyes gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Krista returned to her car and pulled away. She wended through the neighborhood and picked up the 405 back to Huntington Beach. The traffic was unusually light, so she rolled down the windows and let the wind whip through her hair as she headed home. She cranked the radio
and pretended she had the whole day ahead of her without any work to do, although she couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
Krista worked all the time, and she loved her job. Mostly. She loved making her own hours and calling her own shots. She loved her little office in Santa Ana, where she was constantly running into cops and other P.I.s she knew who frequented the streets near the Orange County Courthouse. Most of all, she loved that feeling of accomplishment that came from building something from the ground up, something that hadn’t existed before.
Did R.J. love the job, too? Did he even like it? She’d never really talked to him about it. There were a lot of things they’d never talked about, and lately, she’d started noticing the gaps.
When Krista turned onto her street, she immediately noted the dinged Hyundai in her driveway. Her tenant was home. Mac occupied Krista’s garage apartment. He was a part-time student and full-time computer geek, and when he wasn’t taking classes at Fullerton, Scarlet and Krista kept him busy running background checks for employers. Not the most exciting work, but it helped keep the lights on.
Krista pulled into her driveway and caught sight of a familiar car in her rearview mirror. Her nerves skittered as R.J. glided to a stop in front of her house. He slid from his black Porsche Turbo and looked her over, raising an eyebrow.
“Where you been, Ace?”
“Went up to Santa Monica for a run.”
He grinned. “Since when do you run?”
“I run.” She walked up her sidewalk and let herself into the canary-yellow bungalow she’d inherited from her Grandma Dot. She was greeted by a screeching macaw—another family heirloom.
“No place like home! No place like home!”
R.J. followed her inside. “Jesus, that’s obnoxious.”
Krista tossed her purse on a chair and went into the kitchen. “What brings you here this morning?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
He dropped a white paper bag on the counter and leaned back against the sink, watching her as she grabbed a bottle from the fridge and guzzled water.
Krista peered into the bag and pulled out a chocolate iced doughnut sprinkled with pecans. She tore off a bite and popped it in her mouth, closing her eyes as the sugary icing melted on her tongue. “Oh my God, these are evil. Why did you bring me these?” When she opened her eyes, he was standing close and gazing down at her.
“Because I know the way to your heart.”
Her stomach fluttered as she turned away. Why did he have to say things like that? And sound so sincere?
The problem was, he did know the way to her heart, and it wasn’t food. It was those long, hot looks he gave her when they were in public. And the way he showed up at her house uninvited and lured her out to do things. The way he teased her and prodded her, chipping away at the walls she’d built around herself after her marriage fell apart.
She looked up at him, forcing herself to hold his gaze. He reached around her and grabbed her water bottle, then took a long swig and set it down on the counter.
“I worked all night,” he said.
“You’re kidding.”
“I think I’ve got something.”
“What?”
“Her ex. The guy she was living with right before she skipped town.”
Krista hadn’t known Riley had been living with anyone.
“You have your laptop here?” he asked. “I’ll show you.”
She led him into the sunroom, where her computer sat open on the coffee table.
“Give us a kiss! Give us a kiss!” Spencer squawked.
Krista dropped a chunk of doughnut into his cage and sat down to power up her laptop. R.J. sank down beside her, and the little rattan sofa creaked under his weight. He pushed the coffee table back to make room for his long legs.
“How did you know she had a boyfriend?” Krista asked.
“The manager at her work told me.”
She looked at him. “How’d you know where she worked?”
“Place off Crosscut Drive.”
“Where’d you get that?”
He shrugged. “I figured she had to be working near there. Otherwise, why would she be driving through the neighborhood alone so late? I went over there last night and had a look around, flashed her picture to a few girls at the strip club around the corner. The bartender recognized her immediately.”
“What strip club around the corner?”
“Angelino’s. It’s a hole in the wall. Kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it.”
Which meant it was probably an off-the-books operation. Maybe it catered to some of the workers in the area.
“So, she’s a dancer?” Krista asked.
“Cocktail waitress, according to the manager. Here, let me drive.” R.J. took over the laptop. “Watch and learn, babe.”
Krista scooted over. She delved back into the doughnut bag as R.J. began tapping away.
“I started with the usual,” he said. “And you’re right. She’s hard to track down. Looks like she dropped off the radar right around the time of the shooting. Which may or may not mean anything. She sold her car right around then, too, which you already knew.”
Krista watched as he logged into a motor vehicle database. As a licensed investigator, he had access to it for a monthly fee. But Krista did, too, and she’d already checked their records without finding any new leads.
“Last known address for Riley is an apartment over off Sepulveda,” R.J. said.
Instead of entering a name in the search field, he entered an address only. Then he refined his search a few times and came up with a new name.
“Jared Burris,” Krista said, peering at the screen. “That’s her ex?”
“They occupied the same address during the same timeframe. Looks like he moved out, too, though. I dug up a new address for him, but it’s just a P.O. Box in Garden Grove.”
“Think maybe he moved with Riley?”
“It’s possible.”
“Wow.” Krista leaned back. “I’m impressed. You’ve been on this less than a day?”
“I work fast.”
“I thought I did, too.”
“I also came up with a bunch of stuff you probably already have. No wants and warrants out on this girl. No criminal record, either.”
“I know. I checked all that.”
“No civil court dates or family court filings. No outstanding liens. And here’s the kicker—no credit checks or new utilities set up in the last three years, which isn’t what you’d expect. And I’m sure you’re aware she no longer has a vehicle registered to her name.” He looked at her. “When I see time gaps like that, I always check the military, the penal system. She’s not in prison.”
“Yeah, but her mom is.”
“She is?”
Krista could tell she’d surprised him, and she felt a twinge of pride. It was so rare that she managed to one-up R.J.
“She was busted in a sting operation in Los Angeles four years ago. Drug charges. She’s got six more months left on her sentence.”
“Which means she went in when Riley was…”
“Seventeen,” Krista said. “Riley went to live with her aunt in Pasadena, which was her last address before she got the apartment on Sepulveda.”
“And the aunt?”
“Deceased, no husband. And I checked with the prison, too. Riley hasn’t been to visit her mother in three years.”
Krista grabbed a notepad and jotted down the name of the boyfriend, along with the address listed in the database.
“More interesting timing.”
“I know.” She glanced up and R.J. was looking at her. He stroked his finger over her bottom lip, and she jumped slightly.
He smiled. “Chocolate.”
“Oh.”
She held her breath as he gazed down at her. Should she kiss him? Did she really want to get into this with him when she was having trust issues?
A faint buzzing noise broke the
spell, and R.J. pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Yeah.” He held her gaze, and she could hear a male voice on the other end.
“Where is he now?” R.J. grabbed her notepad and scrawled something. “Okay, keep me posted on the other thing.”
He hung up, and Krista read the address.
“You found the boyfriend?”
“Close. I found someone who knows him. You ever met Johnny Lightning?”
“No.”
R.J. smiled. “It’s your lucky day.”
#
Johnny Lightning made his office in a purple tow truck with gold rims and a lightning bolt painted on the door. Krista spotted the truck in the parking lot as they were pulling into Max’s Diner.
They found Orange County’s most dreaded repo man at the front of the restaurant bent over a plate of eggs. When he saw R.J., he leaned back and smiled, revealing a canine tooth with a gold cap that had a lightning bolt cut out. “R.J. My man.”
Johnny was bulky and bald, put together like a linebacker or maybe a hockey player. His gaze went to Krista and lingered way too long on her chest.
“Mind if we join you?” R.J. slid into the booth without waiting for an answer. Krista followed.
“Long time no see.” Johnny looked at Krista again, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “What can I do you for?”
“We’re looking for Jared Burris.”
“He used to work for me.” His gaze was still on Krista and she turned away, focusing on the view out the window. The diner was located directly across from a funeral home.
She had a hunch about this particular restaurant choice, and she hoped she was wrong.
“So, are you really working with R.J.?”
She turned her attention back to Johnny, who was grinning at her now.
“Got to watch out for this guy.” He slapped R.J. on the back. “Slippery as an eel. Better get paid up front.”
Krista met R.J.’s gaze.
“So, does Jared owe you money or what?” Johnny shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth and looked at R.J.
“We just need to talk to him.”
He gave Krista a sly grin. “You don’t look like a bookie to me, honey.”
“I’m not.”
Lost and Found Page 3
