by Steve Richer
Donnie was aware that Emma was talking to him, asking him what was going on, but he was simply too stunned to react. He had to get out of here and find out what was going on with his daughter.
Chapter 30
Ridge drained his beer as he tapped his foot nervously in his small apartment. He belched, crushed the can, and threw it away until it landed with the three others.
Meanwhile, he was scrolling through his phone with his free hand. There were no new images on Sierra’s Instagram. She usually posted a good dozen each day. It ranged from what she was eating to the people she was with. These last few weeks, most shots had been of the two of them together, either posing for the camera or just kissing.
The last picture was from yesterday before they’d gone out to the club, just the two of them hugging and smiling. Happy.
He was calling all of her friends he had numbers for, but no one had seen her today. Where was she?
He grabbed a Rush-K pill and crushed it on his milk-crate table using the TV remote control, grinding until only a mound of pink powder was left. He snorted it all in one fell swoop.
“Fuck yes…” he hissed, throwing his head back.
He savored the substance coursing through his nasal passages before dripping down his throat. It tasted bitter, but the effect was instantaneous. He found himself alive and calm at the same time. The first two minutes were the best part and he didn’t even move from the couch.
Unfortunately, those two minutes were short. In fact, the more he used Russian koala and the less potent it became. These days he was happy if that initial rush lasted an entire minute. It was better than nothing though and the buzz lingered for a while.
After the euphoria dulled, he went to the fridge to fetch a fresh beer, drinking half of it before he’d gone back to the couch. He grabbed the phone again and made another call, that Schripsema cheerleader girl.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Ridge. You seen my girl Sierra around?”
“No, she hasn’t been in school today. Everybody thinks she’s with you?”
“Well she ain’t, okay?”
“All right, fine.”
“You have no idea where she is, Sandy?”
“No.”
“If you see her, tell her to touch base with me as soon as possible, okay? This is important.”
“Sure.”
Just as he hung up, there was a soft knock on the door. Ridge’s heart beat faster. It was probably Sierra making her way back to him.
He took another sip of his beer and stood up. He knew she couldn’t stay away from him.
“I’m coming, baby.”
When he opened the door, his face fell.
“Hello, baby,” Zhirov said.
Boomer was next to him and he was the first to enter the apartment, pushing Ridge back. It wasn’t too hard, just enough to let him know he meant business. The two men walked in and Zhirov himself shut the door, making a show of locking it.
“What’s going on, Ridge?”
“Yeah, what’s happening, Ridge?” Boomer echoed.
“Nothing, just chilling.”
“Really? You’re just chilling? I would love to do that personally, right, Boomer?”
“Totally, boss. There’s nothing like chilling on a beautiful spring night.”
“But of course,” Zhirov took over, “I usually prefer to chill when I have nothing else to do. So I’m sure you can see how surprising it is to me that you’re chilling, Ridge. I would’ve thought instead you’d be in the process of moving mountains to get me my Rush-K back.”
Boomer cracked his knuckles. “Yeah, Ridge? Why are you here instead of looking to get our product back?”
“Look, guys. You have to understand, my girl was pinched last night. I’m telling you, this shit’s been crazy. She had to ditch the envelope otherwise she’d be looking at five years, yo.”
Zhirov pulled one of the kitchen chairs closer and dusted it off, being disgusted by how dirty his hands became. He produced a handkerchief to clean his hands.
“I don’t think you’re seeing the bigger picture, Ridge.”
“Yeah,” Boomer agreed. “You’re not keeping up with current events.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I have a source in the NYPD, you know that. Gotta keep informed, yes?
“Sure…”
“It so happens your lady friend was arrested all right, but she didn’t get rid of the Rush-K. She lied to you.”
Ridge was flabbergasted. “No, that’s impossible.”
“Unfortunately, it’s very possible. She was taken to the station, processed, and she had my Russian koala in her possession.”
“But she told me they didn’t find it on her,” Ridge pleaded. “I saw her today and everything was okay.”
“Lies, my friend. Nothing but lies.”
Zhirov went on wiping his hands with his handkerchief as he crossed his legs. Boomer was standing by his side, arms crossed like a bouncer.
“No…”
“Which brings a scarier thought to me, Ridge. If she was arrested with my product and if you saw her today, free as a bird, that means she cut some sort of deal. She could be working for the cops right now. She could snitch out my entire operation.”
Ridge bristled. “She would never do that. She loves me.”
“But she doesn’t love me. You see how that becomes a problem?”
“Fuck!” Ridge screamed at the floor, balling his hands into fists.
The drug was giving him more energy than he should’ve had and in turn it fueled his rage. He didn’t want to believe what Zhirov was saying, but he had no reason to lie. They’d had a great working relationship together these past couple of years, ever since he’d started dealing weed for him.
Now Zhirov was on the cusp of becoming a major player with this new Rush-K import. It was in neither’s interest to burn their bridges. That meant that Zhirov was telling the truth. Worst of all, it meant that Sierra had played him.
His girl had fucking lied to him!
He turned toward the makeshift coffee table and kicked it as hard as he could. The remote control shattered when it crashed against the wall and his plastic bag of Rush-K went flying sideways, landing at Boomer’s feet.
“So you believe me now, my friend?”
“That fucking bitch…”
“Yes, that she is,” Zhirov said with a thoughtful nod. “Which brings us to a second problem, my product.”
As he finished speaking, he pulled a locket he was wearing around his neck, taking it out from under his shirt. It was tubular and he unscrewed the top. Without missing a beat, he inhaled what was inside. Either cocaine or Rush-K, Ridge decided.
“I’m sorry, bro.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry when your neighbor’s dog dies. What I need from you is not an apology but rather a business plan. I need to know how you’re going to make it up to me.”
“Yeah, Ridge?” Boomer said. “How are you gonna make it up to us?”
“The package you were delivering for me was worth thirty-five large. Now we’ve wasted twenty-four hours so you have to count the juice. And I think there needs to be some punitive damages as well. Let’s make it an even $50,000.”
Ridge was agape. “I don’t have that kind of cash.”
In a flash, Boomer leapt forward and punched Ridge in the stomach. Out of breath, he fell to his knees.
Boomer picked up the bag of Russian koala. “We can start with this.”
“That’s my private stash, man.”
The reply earned Ridge another blow, this time to the head.
“Think, my friend. The money isn’t going to come from my pocket so you better start thinking about cashing in your 401(k).”
“I don’t–”
Boomer punched his face before he could finish his sentence. This time he drew blood and Ridge spat on the grimy floor.
“Okay, okay, stop!”
“You found the money already?�
� Zhirov asked with amusement as he stood up.
“I got something worth more than money.”
“What?”
“The girl. Sierra.”
“She’s cute, but hardly worth fifty grand.”
“Look, you can rob her house, kidnap her for ransom. Hell, her dad’s a cop. Maybe you can force him to get the drugs back for you. If you threaten her life, her dad will do anything you want. I’m sure there are hundreds of keys of coke and H in the evidence locker. He can get you anything you want.”
“Interesting…” Zhirov whispered.
“And in the meantime you can pimp her out. She’s sixteen, I’m sure there’s a ton of uptown pervs willing to pay premium for that young cooze.”
“I like the way you think. You have an entrepreneurial spirit.”
Carefully, Ridge straightened up, hoping he wouldn’t get hit again. Boomer knew how to strike to cause maximum pain with the minimum amount of effort. He shuffled toward the kitchen table, his entire body aching.
“What are you doing?”
Ridge grabbed a pencil and tore off a piece of a pizza box. He began writing.
“Here’s her number and address. You can do whatever the hell you want with that bitch.”
Chapter 31
Walking into his house, Donnie hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Everything looked normal. The TV was on in the living room, tuned to some sort of sitcom. There was a lingering aroma of onion and peppers from yet another dinner he had missed.
He found Nicole on the couch, by herself this time. She was dressed in capris and a blouse, her hair tucked behind her ears very casually. She looked a lot better than she had yesterday, more energetic in the way she twisted her head as he came in.
“I saw what happened on TV,” she said. “Are you all right?”
He swallowed the nasty words he had planned on using, caught off guard by her being so nice. “I’m fine.”
He went to the cabinet next to the television and pulled out a bottle of scotch along with a glass. While remaining standing, he poured two fingers, didn’t bother with ice, and drank it down.
“Are you sure you’re okay? There was a shootout, they’re saying on the news somebody was killed.”
“I said I’m fine, Nicole. I didn’t shoot anyone, nobody shot at me. Everything is peachy.”
“Okay, great,” she said as she stood up although she remained in front of the couch.
Donnie prepared himself another drink, but this one he only sipped. He also stayed put and he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He had had this fantasy of barging in and getting into a yelling match. He wanted to say everything that had been on his mind for the past year. He had imagined this would relieve him, make him happy again.
No words came out.
It was his wife who spoke. “I want to tell you that I won’t apologize for that… for Simon. It started a long time ago, it didn’t last that long anyway. And yesterday, what you saw, nothing happened. He just drove me home.”
“That’s not how a marriage works, Nicole. You don’t sleep around on your husband!”
“Are you even a husband anymore? A husband is someone who comes home after work, who spends time with his family. That’s not who you are, Donnie. That’s not who you’ve been for the last five years at least.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, excuse me for trying to keep the streets safe!”
“What about keeping your family safe? We need you just as much as your precious NYPD. Is it too much to ask for you to be here once in a while? But no, every time you’re not busy solving a case, you’re out drinking with your friends, or bowling, or whatever the hell you do.”
“You want to accuse me of not being a perfect husband? Okay, fine. How about you as a wife, Nicole? When was the last time you made an effort to be interested in things that I like? Uh? Riddle me that because I can’t seem to figure it out. Why did you marry me anyway?”
She grimaced, the comment hurting her. “Because I loved you, Donnie. I really did. We were good together before your job became so important, more important than your family.”
“So you’re saying you don’t love me anymore, is that it? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“But you sure love my health insurance, right? I may not be there to hug you to sleep each night, but you definitely like the fringe benefits of being married to me.”
“You’re an asshole!”
He groaned and drank his scotch. She was right, obviously. He hadn’t wanted to say that, but it had come out before he could stop himself.
“You basically abandoned us for your job, Donnie. If it had been for another woman, I might have understood that. But your job? You find more joy in tracking down criminals than being with your wife and daughter? That’s terrible.”
Donnie had trouble breathing. This was the first time they’d been honest with each other in over a decade. The veil had been lifted and everything was fair game. It was cathartic, but also terrifying because it could spell the end, for real this time.
For the longest time, Donnie had been content with the status quo. Even though everything wasn’t warm and fuzzy, at least he’d still had his family. But now he wasn’t sure. What would happen once they were done slinging insults, when everything was said?
“Tell me about Sierra,” he said, wanting to change directions.
“What about her?”
“Don’t play games, Nicole. I know what happened. I met Lambright tonight and he said he got her off drug charges? Fucking drug charges! What’s going on?”
His wife sighed and sat on the edge of the sofa as if mere talk of their teenager was exhausting.
“It happened last night. She finally called me, only she was at the police station.”
“Jesus Christ, what happened?”
“She said she was with her boyfriend, delivering an envelope or something. Russian koala, whatever that is. It was some sort of sting operation. Her boyfriend got away, but she didn’t.”
“Wait a minute, what boyfriend?”
“There you go, knowing so much about murderers and rapists and knowing nothing about your family.”
“Goddamn it, Nicole… And then what happened? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I called Simon. He spoke with the detectives and the DA. They agreed to let her go and drop the charges as a favor.”
Donnie shook his head and began pacing. “Shit, that son of a bitch is gonna hold that over my head forever.”
“I see,” Nicole snorted. “You care about your career and Simon more than your own daughter.”
“Please, you know that’s not true! Where’s Sierra now? Where has she been since yesterday anyhow?”
“Simon brought her home this morning, but then she left. She wrote a note, saying that she was moving out to live with her boyfriend. I saw it when I woke up.”
“What?!”
“Calm down, she called me after that from the train. She said she’d changed her mind, that she was coming back after all.”
Donnie started clapping, smiling sarcastically. “Great job. You’re in the running for mother of the year. Your daughter is into drugs, hanging out with dirtbags, getting fucking arrested?”
“And what about you?” Nicole spat, standing up again. “Why don’t you look at yourself if you want to discuss bad parenting?”
“I’m not the one having an affair!”
“Stop it!”
The voice was younger, more high-pitched.
They both turned toward the foyer and found Sierra staring at them. Her satchel was at her feet and tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Please stop it!”
“Sweetheart…”
“No, dad! You want to know why I don’t want to live here anymore? That’s why!”
She grabbed her bag and ran back out of the house.
“Sierra, wait!”
It was too late. Donnie put his glass down
and ran after her.
She was getting into a Cherokee and it quickly took off. As a last ditch effort, he took out his phone and called his daughter, but it was no surprise that she didn’t pick up.
Shit, what kind of detective was he when he couldn’t even stop his daughter from getting away on a lousy residential street?
Chapter 32
Donnie was alone in the world. His investigation was going nowhere and he couldn’t feel much support within the NYPD. Sierra had run away. His wife didn’t want anything to do with him. To use a highly technical term widespread within the psychology field: it sucked balls.
He thought about going to Emma’s again. She had made it clear that the invitation was still open and her couch hadn’t been too uncomfortable. One thing was stopping him though. The drink and a half he’d had at home, while making him feel a little better, it could be affecting his judgment.
What if he was reading her signals wrong? Worse still, what if he wound up making a move on her?
She was a sweet girl and she deserved better than a meaningless fling just to cheer him up. A part of him wanted to go anyway – whatever happened, happened – but there was a very good chance he would make a fool out of himself and he’d been acting too much like a fool as it was these past two days.
Instead he decided to go to the only place he felt safe, his regular office at the 19th Precinct.
Just as he thought as he went upstairs to his desk, the place was an oasis of peace and quiet. Also soothing was that Nicole texted him to say that Sierra had called. She hadn’t run away again. She was going to stay with Nicole’s sister until things settled down at home.
The bullpen was deserted this late at night and it was fine by him. What he really wanted to do was try to wrap his head around this murder and he worked better alone anyway. The task force distracted him. They simultaneously had everything and nothing as far as leads went, so a fresh look at the case was warranted.
He called up the murder book on the computer. That was the good thing about the task force, everything had been computerized almost instantly. He reached into his bottom drawer and retrieved a plastic cup and the bottle of Johnnie Walker he kept for emergencies.
