Smoke Screen (The Darcy Lynch Series Book 2)

by Elin Barnes

  “Hotshot how?” Sorensen asked.

  “He’s rich, good looking, and young. He could have his own parties, and everybody would line up to go, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I told him I knew about the party and I could set him up. He asked if he could bring his regular, but she was already booked, so I sent him Belle.”

  “Which ones were your girls?” Lynch asked, thinking about the three young women at the crime scene.

  “Eva Yung and Sandra Howell.” After another sip of water, he added, “I believe there was another girl, but she wasn’t one of mine.”

  “And you haven’t heard from Aislin since then?”

  “No. I haven’t. But Aislin left Saffron a cryptic and pretty scary message the night of the party.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “It didn’t make any sense. It sounded as if it got cut off in the middle, but she said something about killing.”

  “Killing?”

  “Yeah, something like, ‘They’re going to kill . . .’” X took another sip of water and added, “Saffron was pretty freaked out when she couldn’t get ahold of Aislin and went to her place. That’s where she saw my IM and lured me into the Cotto Lounge to meet her. I thought I was meeting Aislin, but Saffron was the one who showed up demanding answers.”

  Darcy felt cold and empty. He thought Saffron felt comfortable enough with him to share anything, and yet she’d turned to a total stranger for help rather than come to him. Pushing the feeling away, he changed gears.

  “Who’s the guy who wanted to go?”

  “Blake Higgins.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “I don’t ask questions, Detective. I just hook them up.”

  “What happened when you met Saffron?”

  X told them about their plan to meet with Blake later.

  “You did what?” Darcy asked. He paced back and forth and combed his hair with his hand. “Are you crazy?”

  Sorensen positioned himself between Darcy and Constantine.

  “I don’t know if you know that woman well, Detective, but she’s very persuasive.”

  Darcy caught Sorensen chuckle before he said, “Just a little.”

  “Exactly,” X said.

  “So what happened next?” Darcy asked, still pacing behind Sorensen.

  “We didn’t get anything out of Blake. I thought I had persuaded him to go talk to you guys, but the next thing I knew, I’m getting into my car and two massive thugs beat the crap out of me.”

  “Do you think it’s related?”

  “You don’t?” He wiggled to find a better position. The big cast on his arm didn’t give him a lot of extra room on the bed. “I don’t claim to know anything about your job, but I would bet my 401(k) that this is all related.”

  Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Then X added, “Why aren’t you asking Saffron all of these questions?” There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

  “She was in a hit-and-run tonight. Less than an hour ago.”

  “No,” Constantine said, covering his mouth with his well-manicured hand. “Is she . . . ?”

  “In surgery right now,” Sorensen said.

  “We were supposed to meet for brunch, but I never saw her.” He shook his head. “You need to talk to Blake Higgins. He knows something.”

  They got Blake’s contact information from the pimp and left, promising to let him know how Saffron was doing.

  On the way to the car, Darcy called the hospital. Saffron was still in surgery.

  Chapter 68

  Sorensen drove toward O’Connor Hospital. Traffic was pretty bad even though it was almost seven.

  “Call Jon. See if he has any updates,” he told Lynch.

  As soon as the intern picked up, Lynch told him what they’d learned from Madam X and asked, “Have you come across Blake Higgins in your research?”

  “Sounds familiar. Give me a sec to run a few queries.”

  Lynch set the phone on speaker and held it between them so they could both hear.

  Jon came back on: “Yeah, he’s the CTO of NanoQ, one of the companies that’s being sued for patent infringement by McKenzie & Shaw.”

  “That’s the first link we’ve had,” Lynch said.

  “Any connection with Bishop or Mitchell?”

  “Haven’t found any yet, but I’ll look closer now that we have a name. I’ll call you if I find something.”

  Before he hung up, Sorensen asked, “How are you feeling, kid?”

  “Pretty good. And my mom’s bringing me her pumpkin cream cheesecake later.”

  Sorensen felt his mouth start to water. He realized he hadn’t eaten much all day. “Don’t eat it all in one sitting.” He checked the time and, turning to Lynch, said, “It’s barely seven. I say we go to his office first and see if he’s there. If not, we’ll try to catch him at home.”

  “I’ll text you the address,” Jon said.

  “And save us some pie,” Lynch said before hanging up.

  Sorensen sped up and took the Stevens Creek exit for the hospital.

  “Where are you going?” Lynch asked him.

  “I’m dropping you off at the hospital. Saffron’s been in surgery now for almost two hours. She’s going to get out soon, and you need to be there when she does.”

  “I can do more good getting the asshole who did this to her,” Lynch protested.

  “And you will. Let me go on and talk to this guy. I’ll keep you posted. If something comes up, I’ll come and get you. Mountain View is only a hop, skip, and a jump away.” He felt his partner was not convinced. “I’m telling you, your woman wakes up and you’re not there, she’ll never forgive you.” After a few more seconds of silence, he added, “Trust me. I know about these things. How do you think I manage to still be married?”

  Lynch finally nodded.

  The detour only took a few minutes. When Sorensen got on Highway 101, he saw that the traffic was still horrible. He drummed at the steering wheel with his fingers for the entire thirty minutes it took to get to Blake Higgins’s office. The parking lot was still pretty full, but the building was closed, and there was no receptionist to open the doors for him. He called Blake’s number, but he didn’t answer.

  “There’s not even a call box,” he said out loud, frustrated.

  He turned to get back to his car when the sound of the door unlocking made him stop. A young Indian man was exiting. Sorensen backtracked and caught the door right before it closed.

  The man looked at him and, with a low voice and slight accent, asked, “Do you work here?”

  Sorensen opened his jacket and showed his badge. “Police business.”

  “Oh,” the man said, adjusting his backpack. “The receptionist is gone.” He looked at the empty desk.

  “I’ll figure it out. Thank you,” Sorensen said, moving inside the premises already.

  “You won’t be able to get in. There’s another security door inside. You can only get in with a badge after business hours.” Before the detective said anything, he added, “Maybe I can page somebody for you?”

  They both walked inside the reception area. It was well lit—maybe a little too bright for the contrast with the dark night outside. Sorensen gave him Blake’s name, and the man took out his phone and started typing in the search box.

  “We have a full directory of everybody in the company,” he explained. “We’re all on call until . . .” He stopped himself.

  Sorensen nodded. He knew he was going to say “the sale” of the company but cut himself short, as that was still confidential. Sorensen knew only because Jon was brilliant.

  He went in a different direction. “What do you do here?” he asked.

  “I’m the lead researcher for the quantum computing team.”

  “What’s that?” Sorensen wasn’t sure that was relevant for the investigation, but he had a soft spot for the crazy ideas these geniuses came up with in Silicon Valley.

  “It’s the use of quantum effects to perform computat
ions.”

  “That sounds like spooky science to me,” Sorensen joked.

  “It’s the coolest thing. You need to use supercooled atoms. Anyway, it’s in its infancy, but that’s what makes it so exciting,” the Indian man said, many lines framing his eyes as his smile reached them. “My name is Mohinder Mishra, by the way.”

  He extended his hand, and Sorensen shook it. He was a bone crusher. Sorensen liked him even more.

  “I found Blake’s number. Let me call him.”

  “I just tried his cell. He didn’t pick up. You have his office number?”

  “Yep,” he said, and tapped his phone.

  They both waited in silence while the phone rang. After a couple rings it went to voice mail.

  “You want to leave a message?” Mohinder asked.

  Sorensen took the phone and said, “Mr. Higgins, this is Detective Sorensen. I’m at your office and would like to talk to you tonight.”

  He left his contact information before he hung up, wrote Blake’s desk number in his notepad and handed the phone back.

  “Sorry we couldn’t reach him. What’s going on?”

  “Thank you for trying. Routine questions on an active investigation. Nothing serious.”

  “Right,” the engineer said, adjusting his backpack again.

  “I catch a hint of sarcasm,” the detective said.

  Mohinder seemed to ponder what to say.

  “Blake’s an interesting character. One of the smartest engineers I know, but he comes from really old money, so he thinks he can do whatever he wants. Like he’s entitled, you know? I wouldn’t be surprised if that attitude eventually caught up with him.”

  “Have you seen him get into trouble before?”

  “Not trouble trouble. But he’s rowdy. One time, when we celebrated our Series B funding a few years back, we all went to a strip club. It was all guys back then,” he added, as if he needed to explain.

  Sorensen nodded for him to go on.

  “He got fairly drunk and started getting really grabby. They had security kick him out, and he fought the entire way. It was pretty funny. And awkward. He showed up with a black eye the next day.”

  “He does this often?”

  “Things like that. He brags about having a pro at his beck and call. I don’t know, he’s one of those guys that if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t believe half the shit he boasts about.”

  Mohinder stopped by a polished, dark blue Prius.

  “Nice meeting you, Detective. I hope you reach him.” He shook hands again, but before he got into the car he said, smiling, “If you’re going to arrest him, don’t do it for a couple days. We don’t want the bad news to screw up something big we got coming, okay?”

  “Deal,” Sorensen said, already halfway to his car. “Good luck with that kooky science of yours.”

  Mohinder saluted him by tapping his forehead with his index finger, and got into his car.

  Sorensen called Lynch. “No luck. He wasn’t in the office. I’m going to head out to his house, but I don’t think he’ll be there. I’ll keep trying his cell. Any news?”

  “Still in surgery. Anything I can do from here?”

  “No.”

  Chapter 69

  Darcy got more coffee in the visitor’s lounge and headed to Jon’s room. The bitter taste of the old burnt coffee almost made him throw it in the trash. He thought about Seattle, where even bad coffee was better than most of the stuff he found here. He didn’t really miss the rain and the constant dampness, but he still remembered the gorgeous emerald city on the few sunny days.

  Then he thought about that warehouse on Harbor Island. About Stepan Kozlov and Gigi. He felt the knife puncturing his eye again. The blood seeping out of his eye socket and Gigi’s life expiring just a few feet away from him. He massaged his temple harder than usual, but the cold feeling didn’t go away.

  “Detective, I was about to call you,” Jon said as soon as Darcy walked in.

  “You’ve found something?”

  Jon looked behind him as if he was expecting Sorensen to also walk in.

  “He’s not here. He’s trying to find Higgins.”

  “That’s what I was going to call you about.”

  Darcy sat on the chair by Jon’s bed. He felt tired.

  “Higgins and Mitchell did boot camp at the Marines together.”

  “Seriously?” Darcy straightened up on the chair, suddenly not tired anymore.

  “Yep, but Higgins washed out, and Mitchell went on to have a stellar career. Two tours in Afghanistan. Plenty of commendations. He earned the Silver Star rescuing a fellow Marine under fire.”

  “So Ethan Mitchell’s a hero?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “I didn’t find out much else about Higgins while he was in boot camp. Maybe we can get Detective Sorensen to call his friend in the Marines.”

  Darcy called Sorensen and brought him up to speed.

  “Okay, I’ll call Loren. I’ll let you know what I find,” Sorensen said.

  This was the link they’d been waiting for. All the cases were connected through Blake Higgins and Ethan Mitchell.

  “Can I get you anything?” Darcy asked Jon.

  “Nah. Waiting for my mom’s pie.” He smiled, but his eyes never left the laptop.

  Darcy refilled his cup and went back to Jon’s room. The phone rang. It was Sorensen.

  “He didn’t have a lot of info but promised to find out more. On its face it looks like Higgins was dismissed because he was unable to do what it takes to be a Marine.”

  “What does that mean?” Darcy looked at Jon. The intern’s puzzled expression was probably a reflection of his own.

  “That’s Marine-speak for coward. Loren figures this was your typical rich kid wanting to stiff it to his parents, and when he realized what it really meant to be a Marine, he freaked out and went running back to mommy.”

  “Nice. So we have a coward who now hires the muscle somewhere else,” Darcy said.

  “Yep.”

  “We need to find this guy,” Darcy said.

  “Can we track his phone?” Jon asked.

  “Do you have a warrant?” Sorensen asked.

  Darcy looked at his watch. “Any judges you can buy dessert for?”

  “Ping Virago. I’m on my way to pick you up.” He paused for a few seconds. “Unless you want to stay there. I would totally understand if you do.”

  Darcy checked his watch, then looked at Jon, who shrugged.

  “No, I’ll go with you.” He headed toward the emergency room reception desk. “I’ll check on Saffron’s status and meet you downstairs.”

  Chapter 70

  “Detective Sorensen, I think you cashed out all of your favors a while ago,” Judge Martinez said when he opened the door.

  The Victorian house was well lit. He lived alone with a big German shepherd, which was sitting by his side.

  “I know, Judge. Trust me, there are many other things I would rather be doing right now,” Sorensen said.

  Darcy let the dog smell his hand and then scratched him behind the ears. The dog lifted his head and closed his eyes.

  Judge Martinez read the order and signed it. “You think this guy’s good for the Los Altos homicide and the bank?”

  “He’s connected. Doubtful he did the job himself, but he was there.”

  “Okay, here it is.” He handed the paper back to Sorensen. “You owe me a good bottle of scotch.”

  “It’ll be my next Christmas present.”

  As soon as they got back in the car, Darcy called Jon. “We got it. You can start the trace.”

  “Give me a few minutes.”

  Sorensen kept the car idling but still parked.

  “I got him. He’s in Santana Row,” Jon said with his mouth full.

  “Are you eating pie already?” Darcy asked.

  “Sorry.” Jon swallowed.

  “I could have told you he would be there,” Sorensen said.

&nb
sp; “Then why did we waste our time with the warrant?”

  “Just to be sure.” Sorensen put the car in gear and sped out of the cul-de-sac. “I’m taking the highway.”

  “It’s past eight. It should be fine.”

  It was the right call. Traffic had finally died down, but it seemed that everybody had decided to go to Santana Row, which was bustling with people.

  “I don’t recall seeing so many families here before,” Darcy said.

  “Nah, today’s special. They had the Christmas tree–lighting event, and a lot of kids come here for that.”

  Darcy nodded and walked the rest of the way in silence. People looked happy, hopeful, as if they didn’t know there was a terrible world out there. He pulled his phone and checked for updates from the hospital, but there weren’t any. Saffron’s surgery was taking a long time.

  Jon had texted them Blake’s DMV photo. They reached Braseiro and searched for him. Sorensen spotted him first. He was sitting by himself at the bar, nursing a tall cocktail glass, half-empty. The detectives stood behind him, forming a triangle, so if he wanted to make a run for it, he would find a body blocking him in either direction.

  “Blake Higgins?” Sorensen asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “We would like to talk to you.” Sorensen opened his jacket so Blake could see his badge.

  “You’re flashing yourself to me?” Blake started laughing.

  Sorensen looked at Darcy. “This guy’s so funny.”

  Blake turned around and took a long sip of his drink. “I’m busy right now. Can’t this wait?”

  “No, it can’t wait, dickhead,” Sorensen said, grabbing the drink from his hand and placing it on the counter. “You need to come with us right now.”

  “Are you going to arrest me?” he asked, still snickering.

  Darcy watched Sorensen switch his weight from one foot to the other. It was too dark for him to see his partner’s jugular, but he was sure it was pulsing.

  He stepped in. “We just need to ask you a few questions. We can do this outside or at the station, but better not to do it right here.”

  Blake finished his drink and, grabbing two twenties from his wallet, he put them under the glass.