No Return
Page 6
“You didn’t get this from me.”
Jasper nodded. “I just want to get that little girl back to her family.”
“BlackBriar Security, a private firm. Good pay, dangerous work. Not sure how he screwed up. Just called me about four months ago saying he lost the job. But he refused to take any money, said he’d figure it out.”
Jasper nodded. “Where is he now?”
“Last I heard he was staying in Jacksonville at The Carrington. Sounds like a nice place, but it’s a shit hole in the projects.”
“You did the right thing. Thank you.”
“Hmm …” George grumbled, then went back to wiping the bar.
Jasper left the Corner Pocket, eager to leave a festering memory further behind.
Chapter 14 - Mallory Black
“He’s escaped,” Mike said.
Mal didn’t have to ask who. She moved the phone to her other ear. “How?”
“He was being transferred to another jail after his attack. The transport van was stopped and the guards shot dead. Now he’s in the wind.”
“Fuck!” Mal leaped out of bed and started pacing. She’d been awake for less than a minute.
“This seems highly organized. Did Dodd have connections to people with resources like—?”
“Not that I know of.”
“One other thing. He’s got a new lawyer, Lawrence Kampf, who petitioned for the transfer.”
“Why the hell is he taking Dodd’s case? Publicity?” Mal didn’t wait before adding, “This can’t be coincidence. You need to bring him in, see what he knows.”
“We did. Or I should say, the Feds did. They’re steering this bus. And, as you might expect, they got exactly shit from him.”
“Fuck.”
“I heard you reached out to Jessi’s mom?”
“Yeah.”
“You working another angle on this?”
“I’m just trying to help in any way I can.” And then, after a long moment, she sighed, “Fuck. Poor Colleen. This public yet?”
“I’m sure it will be any minute.”
“Double fuck. What about Dodd’s ex-wife and their daughter, Lily? They in protective custody?”
“Arrangements are being made.”
“Good. He warned me about this.”
“Who?”
“Jasper Parish. He said this would happen, that Jessi would be taken again and that Paul would get out.”
“How could he possibly know that?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She waited a beat. “He’s psychic.”
“What? You’re not buying that bullshit, are you? They’re working together, you ask me. And if that’s the case, we need to get his info out there.”
“I don’t think so,” Mal said. “I … I believe him.”
“Why? Doesn’t it seem the least bit convenient that this dude knew about Ashley before she was taken and where to find you and Jessi when Paul took you back to your place? And he just happens to know about all this shit happening now? Come on, Mal. He’s playing you. I don’t know what his game is, but he’s not psychic. There’s no such thing.”
It was funny between the two of them. Mike, the hardcore Catholic, was the skeptic. Maybe his religious background made it easy to dismiss the idea of psychic phenomena — one of those Christians that viewed anything they didn’t understand as the work of the devil or con artists.
“He’s not playing me. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I can tell.”
“Whatever. I just hope he does the right thing, whatever his game is.”
“Me, too, partner. I’m going to call Colleen.”
“Good luck. And hey, be careful. I can’t help but think he might be coming back at you.”
“Let him fucking try,” Mal said, almost hoping he would. This time, she’d be well within her rights to kill the fucker dead.
She hung up and stared at the phone, trying to decide if she should call or warn Colleen in person. Her phone rang with a private number before she could decide. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Jasper said.
“He’s escaped.”
“What? How?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Psychic?”
“I don’t know. But I warned you that he’d get out.”
“He had help. Someone attacked the transport van.”
“Lemme guess,” Jasper said. “Same three men who attacked the bus?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I might have something for you.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t going to pass this on. Because I wanted to investigate myself, but I’m out of town chasing leads.” Jasper took a breath. “The man you’re looking for is named Cadillac Taylor. Used to work for a mid-level drug dealer in South Florida named Lil’ Tony. Boss got killed and Cadillac became a ghost. Went up to Jacksonville and started working with BlackBriar but lost that gig a few months ago. He’s staying at The Carrington now.”
“BlackBriar? As in the private security firm?”
“If you have contacts there, maybe they can help to point you toward his new employer.”
“Thank you,” Mal said, then added, “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends on the question.”
“You’re not working with Dodd, are you?”
“Really? You still don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone. And I’m not sure I’m buying the psychic-thing.”
“Believe what you need to. But we’re on the same side.”
And with that, Jasper hung up.
Mal called Mike to tip him off about Cadillac, got his voice mail, and left a message with the details, except for the part about her source.
Then she paced some more, still feeling too deep on the sidelines. Mal didn’t want to call Colleen without some plan of action or something she could do. She’d heard versions of “we’ve just gotta wait” plenty. More would only rot the poor woman’s mind.
But Mal did know the CEO of BlackBriar, a man named Victor Forbes. She’d met him a few months ago at her home hotel. She was at the bar getting drunk, and he was in town for some event or another. He’d recognized her from the news and wanted to talk shop. In addition to hiring out private security to companies and military contractors, BlackBriar taught special courses to several law enforcement agencies in the South.
One thing led to another, and he plied her with expensive drinks before returning to his room.
In addition to being incredibly wealthy, Victor was young, good-looking, and full of himself. He came off like the prototypical Boy Scout in the press, but under the surface, he was anything but kind. He had a dark streak, the kind that served as a magnet for self-destructive people. Exactly the sort of man Mal was attracted to at her worst.
They had a good time, from what she could remember. She even fell asleep in his bed, something she normally never did with one-night-stands.
He gave her his number and said he’d love to “do this again.”
She never called, but she still had his number in her phone — assuming it wasn’t a fake.
Mal looked it up and dialed. After a few rings he answered.
“Hello?”
“It’s Mallory Black. Remember me?”
A moment’s pause, then, “Yes. Yes I do. I thought maybe you’d lost my number.”
She laughed coyly. Guys like this needed it cool. “Was busy with work, you know. But I took some time off, and I’m in your neck of the woods for a few days. Got time to grab a late lunch?”
It was a long shot, Victor’s calendar was probably full. But he also seemed like the sort of guy that liked to break away, tell his assistant to hold everything while he dropped out of pocket and indulged.
She waited through the silence until he said, “Where are you staying?”
She picked the nicest hotel she knew of, Twenty-One Resort & Spa on the beach.
“I’ll see if I can clear things up. This a good number to reach
you at?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be in touch.” And then Victor hung up.
Mal felt guilty using false pretenses to arrange a meeting, but he was the sort of guy who would never met a cop for questioning without a lawyer. His company had a few rotten apples do some bad shit in the Middle East a few years back, and it took years to wash that stink away. If the FBI started sniffing around Cadillac Taylor, and they eventually would, Victor would likely go underground until he and his team crafted a response that would portray BlackBriar in the best possible light.
No, we don’t hire criminals as a matter of course. No, we don’t know why he would kidnap Jessi Price or break Paul Dodd out of jail. No, our company doesn’t endorse any of these actions.
Mal’s way was faster. Assuming the Feds didn’t make the connection first.
Chapter 15 - Mallory Black
Mal sat in the restaurant on the bottom floor of Twenty-One Resort & Spa, scrolling through her phone in search of any breaking news on Jessi as she waited for Victor to show. Finding nothing, she checked her messages, hoping for something from Mike.
Nothing new yet.
She had called Colleen on her way to the resort, breaking the news of Dodd’s escape. She hated doing it over the phone, knowing the woman would need someone to console her, but Mal comforted Colleen by explaining that she was working on a lead and wouldn’t rest until they got Jessi back and threw Dodd behind bars.
She was about to text Mike to see if they’d acted on her tip yet when she looked up and saw Victor making his way to her table, dapper in his charcoal suit and an ice-blue tie. It matched his eyes exactly. His blond hair was slicked back into a ponytail. The light stubble looked rebellious, even though the rest of him was GQ CEO.
He smiled as he approached. She stood, and he hugged her. “Good to see you again, Mallory.”
They took their seats. The waitress appeared like a magic trick, asking what they’d like to drink.
“We’ll have two glasses of the Adler Deutsch Reserve Cabernet,” he said, then turned to Mal. “Will that work for you.”
Mal nodded. Indeed, it would.
As the waitress went to fetch their drinks, Victor ignored his menu and looked at her, his eyes and smile both surprisingly warm.
Mal felt bad for lying to get him here. This was the kind of thing she could do exactly once before turning a person off and having them never answer her call again. Victor was a good person to know, someone with information and resources. Someone who could help.
And she was about to screw things up.
The waitress brought their wine and asked if they wanted to order. Victor said to swing back by in a bit, they were catching up.
She smiled then left.
Victor raised his glass. “To your health.”
They clinked glasses and Mal sipped, wishing for something less fragrant and a lot harder.
“So, what brings you round here?”
“Well, I wish I could say it was pleasure. But I’m actually following a lead.”
Victor’s mouth turned ever-so-slightly downward. He set his glass on the table and adjusted his smile to mask the disappointment.
“Ah, okay. How can I help you?” His face was friendly, but she could see him erecting walls in his head, bracing for something.
“I didn’t mean to trick you into coming here, but this is a life-and-death matter for a little girl who could die if I don’t find the man I’m looking for.”
He seemed to relax, a bit. “Who are you looking for?”
“A former employee of yours, Cadillac Taylor. We believe he may have helped to kidnap Jessi Price.” She left out the part about Dodd, for now.
“What?” Victor seemed genuinely surprised. “Cadillac Taylor kidnapped that missing girl?”
“We’re looking into it. Someone told me he was let go from BlackBriar. Can you tell me anything about why he was let go and where we might find him?”
“As to where he is, I’d have to call HR. As for why we let him go, without going into minutia, he wasn’t a fit for BlackBriar. Showed up late a few times, then failed a drug test.”
“What did he do?”
“Private detail for a few clients.”
“Any chance we could get a list of those clients?”
“You know we can’t do that, not without a court order. Discretion is part of the job.”
“I’m just trying to get a jump on this before the Feds come. I’m not saying this as a threat, Victor. I’m off duty now, helping the girl’s mother. I think you can respect me not wanting to sit and wait through all the red tape. I want to get this girl home. I was with her the first time Dodd took her. And now he’s out of jail, too. I can only imagine the hell he has planned for her. Please, Victor, I’ll settle for whatever you can give me.”
She put her hand in his, knowing he probably saw through the move but hoping her last play might work anyway.
“Okay, I’m giving this to you, not the Feds. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“He was friends with this other guy who worked for us, a real bastard named Christopher Stanwicz — beat his girlfriend and was stalking her, had some ugly issues with women. Not sure how he passed our background check and psych tests, but after an arrest for terrorizing his ex, we let him go. He bonded out then disappeared. We learned later that he used to work with some shady people in organized crime. Maybe he went back, got a job, then needed another disgruntled worker to help him? It’s not much, but that’s all I’ve got.”
“Thank you,” Mal said.
“Still in the mood for lunch?”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“Well, I am curious why you didn’t just ask me over the phone.”
“Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?”
He smiled. “No, not really.”
“I don’t like doing things over the phone, not when it comes to a case like this.”
“Well, perhaps I should let you get back to work?”
“Raincheck on the lunch?”
“I’m holding you to it,” he said.
“After the case is over, I’ll make it up to you. Thanks for understanding.”
Mal reached into her wallet to drop some cash for the wine, but Victor raised a hand to stop her.
She hugged him goodbye, then headed to her car with a name — Christopher Stanwicz.
She called Mike. This time he answered.
“Did you get the info I sent?”
“Yeah, we went to Cadillac’s place, but the dude’s in the wind. The Feds grabbed a laptop, so maybe they’ll find something, but I’m not holding out any hope.”
“Any word on Jessi or Paul?”
“Nothing more,” Mike said.
Mal told him about her conversation with Victor, then gave him the new name.
Mike laughed.
“What?”
“It’s bullshit that you’re not working this case. Hell, you’re the only one getting anything useful.”
“Well, Bell has to protect her image. It’s all about November.”
“You know this is eating her up, right? Gloria would love to have you on this, almost as much as I would. You know this is how it had to go down.”
Mal hated that her past couple of years of misery were being used against her. Hated that the media was more concerned about her drinking and beating up a couple of assholes who deserved it than the former sheriff’s blatant disregard of civil rights or the allegations of corruption surrounding his administration.
Gloria Bell had made the sheriff’s office respectable again, not an easy thing to do when a good chunk of the county hated the woman for either her color or political affiliation. And now, because Barry and his cohorts couldn’t win in a clean election by debating the facts, they were looking to take the sheriff down by using Mal, regardless of any real world consequences.
“Yeah, well, I fucked up. I just hope that Jessi doesn’t have to pay for my sins.”
Mal stood outside her house, cool wind blowing and storm clouds blotting out the afternoon sun, keys clutched tight in her hand as she stared at the front door.
She wasn’t sure how she ended up here. She’d been driving back from her meeting with Victor when she began to mourn the loss of her home. It was a shame, living in a hotel like she was. Returning to the house had been hard after Dodd brought her and Jessi there to rape and murder them both.
While Mal enjoyed hotel amenities like the cleaning staff, the concierge who always had whatever toiletry she’d neglected to buy, and the downstairs restaurant and bar, this was the house where she, Ray, and Ashley had made a home for so long.
But with her ex-husband having moved on and their daughter dead, the house was a graveyard, host to painful memories and a reminder of what could never be again.
Yet, she couldn’t sell it.
Because some of those memories were good. And every time she went into Ashley’s room, Mal still felt her presence, in her toys, clothes, and favorite stuffed animals. Lying in her old bed, Mal could close her eyes and remember what she might have otherwise forgotten — reading at night, hiding under the covers and waiting for The Daddy Monster to tickle them, and simple moments like when Ashley would stare at Mal with her big blue eyes and say, “I love you, Mommy” for no reason other than to hear her own whisper.
Selling the house would mean closing the door on those memories.
Then, as she stood on the front porch about to insert her key, the tainted images came. She heard Jessi’s cries, saw the look of fear her eyes as Paul straddled her with Mal helplessly cuffed to the bed.
Dodd had taken the sanctity of her home, of Ashley’s room, and ruined them.
Mal wasn’t sure what she’d feel going into that bedroom again. Would she see her daughter, or Jessi writhing in pain, anticipating the horror of her approaching rape and murder?
“Fuck this,” Mal whispered to herself.
She unlocked the front door, marched through the living room then up the stairs, eager to banish those terrible memories for good. Reclaim Ashley’s room for herself and her daughter.