The bartender came over and placed a napkin in front of Jake. He wore a silk collared shirt that was unbuttoned down to his navel. Tattoos lined his arms like sleeves. He had spiky blond hair and multiple piercings all over his face.
Jake sighed, looking at him. Somehow time had passed him by. He wasn’t a lot older than the bartender, but he felt it.
“What can I get ya?”
“Beer,” said Jake, reaching for his wallet.
“Draft.”
Jake eyed the glasses on either side of him as the pulsing red and yellow lights strobed in the mirror behind the bar. “Bottle. Whatever’s cold.”
The bartender nodded and walked down the counter. Jake swiveled on his stool and watched the dancers for a moment, then he tried to hear what the girls next to him were saying. He didn’t feel like talking, but he couldn’t believe how isolated he was feeling.
He’d never been much for bars, but tonight he needed people around him. He was becoming afraid of his own thoughts. The few hours of sleep he’d snatched didn’t help. His dreams were so frantic and alarming, he hated to succumb to them.
The bartender plunked the beer down in front of him and Jake reached for his wallet. The money inside was going rapidly. He couldn’t afford to pay for another motel, even one as bad as last night’s, so he was hoping he could steal a few hours of sleep, riding around on BART tonight before anyone noticed.
He paid for the beer and lifted it, taking a long drink. It tasted so good, he closed his eyes and savored it. Turning back to the bar, he fingered a gouge in the wood and tried to decide what he should do next. He needed to get Goldman’s file to Peyton. He wasn’t sure how Blake’s will worked in the greater scheme of things, but she might. She wasn’t operating on little sleep, scraps of food, and paranoia the way he was. She might be better able to see the whole picture, something that was eluding him.
He took another swallow of beer, momentarily distracted by the opening of the door. He watched the latest group arrive, five young men with baggy pants and hooded sweatshirts. They immediately moved toward the stairs that Jake assumed led to a basement dance floor. He dismissed them and drank his beer.
Next to him, the blond reached into her purse for her phone. It was fluorescent pink with a large screen that flashed with a text message. She spent a few seconds typing into the phone and giggling with her friends. They all shot him a look, rolled their eyes, and huddled together to snicker. Jake looked away, finishing off his beer.
The bartender moved over to him. “Want another?”
Jake shook his head. “No thanks.”
With a shrug, he shifted to the next customer.
A man and two women took the seats on Jake’s right. It was so crowded at the bar that the man’s shoulder bumped into Jake. Jake moved his stool closer to the blond girl. She gave him an arch look and went back to tapping into her phone.
Jake ran a hand over his face and came to the conclusion that this was a bad idea. The people in this bar were out for a good time tonight. They were engaged in frivolities, while he was fighting for his life. He didn’t belong here. The door opened and he looked up again, watching a couple stumble through, groping each other. Beside him the blond set her phone down on the bar.
Jake’s attention snapped to it as the girl turned her back and started pointing out people on the dance floor to her two friends. Jake leaned forward and marked where the bartender was. He’d moved to the end of the counter to blend some drinks. The trio on his right were huddled close, trying to have a conversation over the pounding of the bass.
Jake pushed his stool back. Casually, he laid his hand over the phone and rose, leaning on the bar as he did so. Curling his fingers around the boxy device, he slid it into his pocket and stepped away from the bar. He felt as if all eyes were watching him as he crossed the dance floor and headed toward the door, but no one even marked his passage.
He weaved between the people and pressed the lever in the door, shoving it open. Then he was outside in the fog and the night, stepping over the same homeless man as he made his way to the Civic Center BART Station.
Once he had the station in sight, he stopped and reached into his back pocket for Peyton’s number. He prayed the girl didn’t have a security code on the phone, or if she did, she hadn’t activated it. He pressed his thumb to the screen and the phone flashed neon across his face. He released his held breath and quickly punched Peyton’s number into it.
It rang twice before she picked up. “Brooks?”
“Mighty Mouse, listen. I don’t have much time.”
“Jake, where the hell are you?” Her voice got distant, then came back louder. “What the hell number are you calling from?”
Jake held the pink phone out and shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Listen. I have something I need to give you. It’s really important.”
“Fine. Let me come pick you up.”
“No, I need to think this through. I need to get some sleep. I’m not dealing with you or any other cops until I have some time to think.”
“I can get you a bed, Jake, a full meal. Come in. It’s really important. You can’t keep running like this.”
“Look,” he snapped, surprised by his own anger, “I’m really on edge. I can’t deal with you tonight. I’m not going to walk into a trap because I haven’t thought this through. This is my life on the line, so we’re doing this my way. Got that.”
“Okay. What exactly does that mean?”
“I have some really important information for you and I want to give it to you, but you’re not taking me in. I’ll meet you tomorrow at 6:00AM, before rush hour and everything. I’ll give you this information, then I’m walking away. You’ve got to come by yourself or I leave.”
“They won’t let me come by myself, Jake. You know that. This isn’t the movies.”
“You come by yourself or forget it. Look, Peyton, I think I’ve got something pretty big, but I just can’t figure out how it all fits together. I really need you to look at this, but I don’t trust you. You’ve got to agree just to meet me by yourself. You know I won’t hurt you. I know you know that.”
Peyton was quiet on the other end of the line. Jake watched a couple dressed in black formal wear hurry toward the BART station. He almost forgot what he was doing as he watched them, he was so damn tired.
“Peyton, look, I don’t have to meet you. I can just have someone deliver Blake’s will, but I want to talk to you. I want to know what you’ve found out. An equal trade. Information for information. Please.”
“Blake’s will?”
“Yeah. It’s not like any will I’ve ever seen. Look, I’m exhausted, so maybe I’m misreading things, but I really think this is important.”
“Where?”
“Where?” repeated Jake.
“Where do you want to meet?”
“The grocery store on La Playa.”
Peyton didn’t immediately answer. “That’s pretty remote, Jake,” she finally said.
“That’s the idea. I’ll be able to see if you come alone. The minute I see Adonis, Peyton, I’m gone.”
“You’re asking a lot. This information you have had better be worth it, Ryder.” Here was the forceful police officer, commanding obedience. Jake marveled at how quickly she could change personalities.
“I think it is, but like I said, I can’t piece together the whole picture yet. That’s why I want the information you have. I know you have the missing parts I need.”
“All right. I’ll be there at 6:00AM.”
“By yourself?”
“By myself, but I promise you this, Jake Ryder, you try anything and I’ll shoot your ass. You’ve been a bucket of trouble for me and I’m fed up, Jake. You’ll be lucky if I don’t shoot you on principle.”
Jake gave a grim laugh. “I’d tell you I feel the same about you, but I don’t want to add threatening a police officer to my list of crimes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He disconnected
the call before she could respond, then crossed the street. Bending down, he dropped the phone into a homeless woman’s lap and walked into the BART station.
CHAPTER 13
Marco stopped the Charger two blocks down the street from the market on La Playa. He put the car in park and shifted to face Peyton. She ignored him as she adjusted the straps on her flak jacket and fixed her radio. She knew what he was going to say. He’d been saying it since they left the precinct.
“Brooks?”
“I know, Marco, I know. If he tries anything, shoot him.”
Marco let out his breath in exasperation. “That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that we’ll be surrounding the back of that store. Take your time walking down there, so we can get into position.”
“Got it.” She loosened her gun in her holster. She didn’t like wearing it around her waist, but with the flak jacket, she couldn’t use her shoulder strap. She was still quick with the waist holster though, besides the fact that she was fairly certain Jake wasn’t armed.
“Brooks?” said Marco again, leaning closer to her.
She looked up at the tone in his voice.
“Be careful.”
Her eyes widened. “Now you’re scaring me. He’s not dangerous, D’Angelo.”
“He’s cornered and exhausted. He’s dangerous.”
“Then I’ll shoot him.”
Marco gave her a smile. “You do that.”
She smiled back and climbed out of the Charger. The sun was just peaking over the edge of the city as she started walking toward the market. She did as Marco asked and took it easy, giving him and the rest of their backup time to get into position.
Defino had agreed to the plan only if there was sufficient fire power in place. Peyton didn’t think they needed it. She suspected Jake was ready to come in and he’d just surrender once she got there, but you never knew. Marco was right. The man was tired, hungry, and desperate. Still, they couldn’t pass up this opportunity. She wanted to bring Jake in before he got hurt and with an APB out on him, the odds of him getting shot by some yahoo rookie went up.
She could see the market up ahead. Only three cars occupied spaces in the parking lot and the neon lights were on across the front of the building, but she didn’t see Jake. She rested her hand on the butt of her gun and scanned the area.
He’d told her he had Blake’s will. How he got it, she wasn’t sure, but she did want to see what it said. She thought she had a fairly detailed picture of what had happened, but there were too many holes still. She wished he’d turn over Zoë’s journal. She’d been kicking herself about that one. How had they missed the journal? Hopefully, he’d have it on him when she arrested him, but she was afraid he might have stashed it somewhere.
She turned into the driveway of the market and began crossing the parking lot. She still couldn’t see Jake, but she marked a few more cars parked along the side of the building. At the end of the parking lot farthest from her was a little A-frame building, sporting a sign saying French Roast Coffee. A drive-thru lane wrapped around the back of it and another two cars were parked in front of it.
She scanned the front of the market, then moved toward the coffee stand. As she did so, a figure stepped out from under the eaves and moved toward her. Peyton could feel her heart pick up pace as he came to a halt a half-dozen yards away.
“You came?”
He had a scraggly beard and his hair was mussed. His jeans and jacket were dirt stained, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and he held a folder in one hand. The other hand was empty, held loose by his side. She could see his wedding ring in the circle of light from the parking lot lamps.
“You look like shit.”
“Yeah, sleeping on BART’ll do that to a person.”
“I can get you a meal, a shower, and clean clothes. I can also get you a bed.”
“And a wall of metal bars to complement it. No thank you.”
Her fingers drummed on the butt of the gun. “Jake, you’re gonna get hurt if you stay out here. Come in and we’ll get this thing cleared up.”
He held out the folder. With his other hand, he wiped at a smudge on his right cheek. “This has Blake’s will inside. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I think it explains why Zoë is dead.”
She didn’t move to take it. She wanted him to come closer. With her shorter legs, she wasn’t sure she could outrun him if he bolted and she didn’t really want to shoot him. “Okay, I’ll read it. In fact, come in and we’ll read it together.”
He gave a bark of bitter laughter. “You really must think I’m stupid. I already told you, I’m not turning myself in.”
He set the folder on the ground at his feet and took a step back. “The lawyer is dead, you know.”
Peyton frowned at the change in subject. “The lawyer?”
“Neal Goldman. Blake Harper’s lawyer. He’s dead.”
Peyton shook her head. “Dead? How?”
“He was hit by a car about a week ago. Hit and run. Driver never even tried to brake.”
Peyton’s eyes fell to the folder. What the hell was going on? The body count was piling up. “Jake, I need Zoë’s journal. It’s evidence.”
“It’s not evidence. It’s mine. It’s her personal thoughts, the last things I have from her. I’m not giving you that.”
“Jake, please. This is ridiculous. You’re going to get yourself killed. There’s an APB out on you now and eventually you’re going to run into a cop who will shoot first. I don’t want it to end like that.”
“I know what’s going on, Peyton. They just want this case ended, put away. It doesn’t matter what really happened. Your captain just wants Claire Harper off her back.” He gave a grimace of disgust. “You think I don’t know the influence that woman has. You think I don’t know the power she wields. I’m not going to be a pawn or a sacrifice.”
When he took another step back, Peyton knew he wasn’t going to be persuaded by her caring, rational routine. Her eyes narrowed on him and she straightened her shoulders. “You can’t possibly believe I’m going to let you leave.” She curled her fingers around the gun grip. “And you don’t really believe I’m here alone, do you?”
He gave a frantic look around the parking lot, but it appeared to be just the two of them. The sun rose over the top of the buildings and slashed across his face, highlighting the hollows of his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. She knew he was exhausted and not thinking right. She didn’t want him to do something stupid.
“I told you to come alone.” He took another step back toward the two cars. He had shifted to a half crouch, his hands out to either side. Just by the posture of his body, she knew he was about to bolt.
She let out a frustrated breath and then made a decision, whipping the gun out of its holster and leveling it on him. He went still, staring down the barrel of it. She could see the whites of his eyes clear around the iris. “Don’t make me do this, Jake. Don’t make me shoot you,” she warned.
He held his hands out, palms facing her, showing her they were empty. She gnawed on her lower lip, but her hand never wavered.
“I don’t have a choice, Peyton. I didn’t kill her. You know I didn’t.”
She went back to pleading. He never seemed to respond to her intimidating cop routine. “Come back with me, Jake. There’s a lot we need to go over.”
He shook his head, his chest heaving. “You think I did it. You think I wanted her dead.”
“Look, we can talk about this. We can sit down, grab some coffee, and talk this out. I don’t want to shoot you, Jake, but I can’t let you go.”
He closed his eyes and opened them again. “I don’t have any other choice, Peyton. I’m not letting you take me back. I can’t do anything in there.” He lifted his hands to his shoulders as if he might surrender. Peyton dared to hope. “Listen, I know you don’t believe I did it. I know it. Help me. Help me find out the truth, Peyton.”
She had to bring him in for his own safety until they could finish this thing. Knowing Blake’s lawyer was dead only solidified this need. Jake was in real danger. “I know the truth. It’s the same truth that’s been there all along, Jake.”
“I didn’t kill her, Peyton. I loved her.”
“Love makes people do real stupid things sometimes, Jake.”
“Not that. Not that way. Please, Peyton, I know you believe me. Maybe you have doubt, but some part of you knows I’m telling the truth.”
“Then give me a show of good faith. Come with me, Jake.”
He moved closer to her. She wasn’t sure why, but instinctively she tightened her finger on the trigger. Forcing herself to exhale, she eased her grip, but he caught her initial motion and came to an abrupt halt.
“Peyton, I can’t go back with you. I can’t let you take me in. I’ll be no good in there.”
“If you let me take you back, I promise to continue the investigation. I promise to keep looking.”
He shook his head. “You might promise, but it means nothing. They’ll move you to another case. This one will be closed, finished. All they want is a body to blame. They don’t care about the truth, but I thought you were different. I thought you really cared.”
“I do care. I don’t want to shoot you. Please, please don’t make me. I promise I’ll stay on the case, even if I have to work it on my off-hours.” The longer this went on, the greater the risk that something bad might happen. Marco was only going to wait so long, and Jake couldn’t keep up this standoff without taking some sort of action.
His face twisted into such misery, such desperation. “They just want a body. It doesn’t matter whose. If you bring me in, they’ll have what they want and the truth won’t matter.” He glanced around the parking lot.
Murder on Potrero Hill (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 1) Page 21
