A Trace of Death (A Keri Locke Mystery--Book #1)

by Pierce, Blake

  She returned her attention to the speech. After a minute, someone walked past her, briefly casting the page in shadow. Annoyed by the distraction, she tried to regain her concentration.

  Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by a bloodcurdling scream. Keri looked up, startled. A man in a windbreaker and baseball cap was running away quickly. She could only see the back of him but could tell he was holding something in his arms.

  Keri got to her feet, looking desperately around for Evie. She was nowhere to be found. Keri started running after the man even before she knew for sure. A second later, Evie’s head poked out from in front of the man. She looked terrified.

  “Mommy!” she screamed. “Mommy!”

  Keri chased after them, breaking into a full sprint. The man had a big head start. By the time Keri was halfway across the grassy field, he was already in the parking lot.

  “Evie! Let her go! Stop! Someone stop that man! He has my daughter!”

  People looked around but they mostly seemed confused. No one got up to help. And she didn’t see anyone in the parking lot to stop him. She saw where he was headed. There was a white van at the far end of the lot, parallel parked near the curb for an easy exit. He was less than fifty feet from it when she heard Evie’s voice again.

  “Please, Mommy, help me!” she pleaded.

  “I’m coming, baby!”

  Keri ran even harder, her vision blurry with burning tears, pushing past the fatigue and fear. She had reached the edge of the parking lot. The asphalt was crumbly and dug into her bare feet as she ran but she didn’t care.

  “That man has my daughter!” she screamed again, pointing in their direction.

  A teenage kid in a T-shirt and his girlfriend got out of their car, only a few spots from the van. The man ran right by them. They looked bewildered until Keri yelled again.

  “Stop him!”

  The teenager started to walk toward the man, then broke into a run. By then the man had reached the van. He slid the side door open and tossed Evie in like a sack of potatoes. Keri heard the thump as her body slammed against the wall.

  He slammed the door shut and started to run around to the driver’s side when the teenage boy reached him and grabbed his shoulder. The man spun around and Keri got her best look at him. He was wearing sunglasses and a cap pulled low and it was hard to see through the tears. But she caught a glimpse of blond hair and what looked like part of a tattoo on the right side of his neck.

  But before she could discern anything else, the man reared his arm back and punched the teenager in the face, sending him crashing into a nearby car. Keri heard a sickening crack. She saw the man pull a knife from a sheath attached to his belt and plunge it into the teenager’s chest. He pulled it out and waited a second to watch the kid tumble to the ground before hurrying around to the driver’s seat.

  Keri forced what she’d just seen out of her head and focused on nothing but reaching that van. She heard the engine start and saw the van start to pull out. She was less than twenty feet away.

  But the vehicle was picking up speed now. Keri kept running but she could feel her body start to give out. She looked at the license plate, ready to commit it to memory. There was none.

  She reached for her keys, then realized they were in her purse, back on the field. She ran back to where the teenager was, hoping to grab his and take that car. But when she got to him, she saw his girlfriend kneeling over him, sobbing uncontrollably.

  She looked up again. The van was far off in the distance now, leaving a trail of dust. She had no license plate, no description to speak of, nothing to offer the police. Her daughter was gone and she didn’t know how to get her back.

  Keri dropped to the ground beside the teenage girl and began to weep anew, their wails of despair indistinguishable from each other.

  When she opened her eyes she was back in Denton’s house. She didn’t remember coming out of the shed or walking across the dead grass. But she had somehow gotten to the Rivers’ kitchen. This was twice in one day.

  It was getting worse.

  She walked back into the living room, looked Denton in the eyes, and said, “Where’s Ashley?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why is her phone in your possession?”

  “She left it here yesterday.”

  “Bullshit! She broke up with you four days ago. She wasn’t here yesterday.”

  Denton’s face sagged visibly at the verbal gut punch.

  “Okay, I took it from her.”

  “When?”

  “This afternoon at school.”

  “You just snatched it out of her hand?”

  “No, I bumped into her after the final bell and snuck it from her purse.”

  “Who owns a black van?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A friend of yours?”

  “No.”

  “Someone you hired?”

  “No.”

  “How’d you get those scratches on your arm?”

  “I don’t know.”

  ““How did you get that bump on your head?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Whose blood is that on the carpet?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Keri shifted her feet and tried to hold back the fury rising in her blood. She could feel herself losing the battle.

  She stared through him and said, without emotion, “I’m going to ask you one more time: where is Ashley Penn?”

  “Screw you.”

  “That’s the wrong answer. You think about that on the way down to the station.”

  She turned away, hesitated briefly, and then suddenly swung back around and punched him with a closed fist, hard, with every ounce of frustration in her body. She got him square in the temple, in the same spot as his previous wound. It split open and blood shot everywhere, some landing on Keri’s blouse.

  Ray stared at her in disbelief, frozen. Then he jerked Denton Rivers to his feet with one powerful yank and said, “You heard the lady! Move! And don’t trip and hit your head on any more coffee tables.”

  Keri gave him a wry smile for that one but Ray didn’t smile back at her. He looked horrified.

  Something like this could cost her her job.

  She didn’t care, though. All she cared about right now was getting this punk to talk.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Monday

  Evening

  Keri drove the Prius with Ray in the passenger seat as they followed the black-and-white she’d called to transport Rivers down to the station. Keri listened quietly as Ray worked the phone.

  The captain in charge of the West LA Division was Reena Beecher, but she would be notified of the situation by the head of Pacific Division’s Major Crimes Unit, Keri and Ray’s boss, Lieutenant Cole Hillman. That’s who Ray was filling in now. Hillman, or “Hammer,” as some of his underlings called him, had jurisdiction over missing persons, homicide, robbery, and sex crimes.

  Keri wasn’t a huge fan. To her, Hillman seemed more interested in covering his own ass than putting it on the line to solve cases. Maybe seniority had made him soft. He had no qualms about tearing into detectives who didn’t clear their boards—their running tally of open cases. Thus the nickname “Hammer,” which he seemed to love. But to Keri’s mind he was a hypocrite who got pissed when they didn’t close cases and got pissed when they took risks to solve those very cases. Keri thought a more appropriate nickname was “asshole.” But since she couldn’t call him that, her little rebellion was to never call him by his preferred nickname either.

  Keri sped through the city streets, trying keep up with the squad car in front of her. Next to her, Ray recapped for Hillman how a late afternoon call about a teen who had been missing for a couple of hours had suddenly morphed into a potentially real abduction situation involving the fifteen-year-old daughter of a US senator. He described the bail bond security video, the visit to Denton Rivers’ place (minus some details) and everything in between.

  “Detec
tive Locke and I are bringing Rivers down to the station for more questioning.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Hillman said. “What’s Keri Locke doing on this case? This is way above her pay grade, Sands.”

  “She caught the call, Lieutenant. And she’s uncovered almost every lead we have so far. We’re almost to the station. We’ll fill you more then, sir.”

  “Fine. I’ll be in soon myself. I have to call Captain Beecher anyway. She’s going to want a heads-up on this. I’ve ordered an all-hands in fifteen. “

  He hung up without another word.

  Ray turned to Keri and said, “We’ll get kicked to the curb as soon as they get a full debriefing out of us, but at least we made some progress.”

  Keri frowned.

  “They’re going to screw it up,” she said.

  “You’re not the only good investigator in this town, Keri.”

  “I know. There’s you too.”

  “Thanks for the mildly condescending compliment, partner.”

  “You bet,” she replied, then added, “Hillman doesn’t like me.”

  “I don’t know about that. I think he just finds you a little…brash for someone with so little experience.”

  “That could be it. Or he could just be an asshole. That’s okay. I don’t like him either.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he’s a toady and a paper pusher and can’t think outside the box. Also, when he passes me in the hall, his eyes don’t go above my chest.”

  “Oh. Well, if you’re going to hold that against every cop who does that, you’ll be left with nothing but assholes.”

  Keri looked over at him knowingly.

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “I’ll try not to take that personally,” he said.

  “Don’t be so sensitive, Iron Giant.’

  He sat quietly for a moment in the passenger seat. Keri could tell he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally he spoke.

  “Are we going to talk about what happened back there?”

  “What?”

  “You know, you assaulting an underage boy.”

  “Oh, that. I’d rather not. Besides, I thought you said he hit his head on the coffee table.”

  “If it turns out he’s not involved in this and he files a complaint, there could be consequences.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Well, I am. Maybe it’s because we’re getting close to the anniversary. Have you called Dr. Blanc lately?”

  Keri’s silence gave him his answer.

  “Maybe you should,” he said softly.

  Keri pulled into the Division parking lot, effectively ending the conversation.

  Denton Rivers was put in an interrogation room while Keri filled out the charging complaint against him for theft of property, specifically Ashley’s cell phone. It would be enough to hold him for a few hours. By then, with any luck, they’d know more.

  After that, they headed to Conference A, the big room where watch commanders doled out assignments at the start of shift. Hillman’s all-hands meeting was about to start.

  When they arrived, Hillman and six of the Division’s most seasoned detectives were already waiting, including two from homicide. Ray fit right in. Keri wasn’t as confident. Right now, with all their eyes trained on her, she felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

  Don’t sabotage yourself. You belong here, too.

  Lt. Cole Hillman stood up to speak. He had recently turned fifty but the deep creases in his face hinted at a man who’d been prematurely aged by the things he’d seen on the job. His salt and pepper hair had begun to recede only slightly. He had a barrel chest and a slight paunch that he tried to hide with loose-fitting shirts. It was after seven in the evening but he still wore a jacket and tie. Keri couldn’t remember ever seeing him without them.

  “First of all, thank you all for coming in on such short notice. As many of you already know, this case involves Ashley Penn, the daughter of US Senator Stafford Penn. Even if he wasn’t close friends with the mayor and the governor, this would be a high priority. But he is, so the pressure is really on. We can expect assistance from our friends at the Bureau shortly. But for now, we need to proceed as if this will remain our case. My understanding is that the senator isn’t confident that this was an abduction. He thinks his daughter may be off partying somewhere. That’s possible. The video footage of her getting in that van is inconclusive. But until his suspicions are borne out, we will run every lead to ground, understand?”

  Heads nodded and there was a general murmur of understanding from the assembled. Hillman continued.

  “Apparently, word has spread among the students at the girl’s school, West Venice High, and this thing is already starting to blow up on social media. We’ve already received the first call from a local reporter poking around. By morning, it’ll likely be the lead story on every news outlet in the state. So let me be clear—when the media approaches you, and they will, you have no comment. No matter who’s asking the question, you refer them to the public information officer. Is that understood?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Okay, good,” Hillman said. “Right now, we probably have just a few hours to work this before the Feds formally claim jurisdiction. Let’s make them count.”

  With that, he tuned to Ray and said, “Detective Sands, would you please bring us all up to speed.”

  Ray, leaning against a wall in the back of the room, shifted uncomfortably and said, “If it’s all the same, sir, Detective Locke broke this case and knows a lot more about it than I do. I think she’s better prepared.”

  Everyone looked at Keri, who was standing next to her partner.

  Hillman scowled but said, “Detective Locke, it looks like the floor is yours.”

  Her chest tightened. A vision of a white van tearing down a road as her bloody feet burned flashed before her eyes for the briefest of moments.

  “Detective Locke? Are you okay?” Hillman asked.

  Ray nudged her.

  “Keri—” he whispered.

  “Yes sir, just gathering my thoughts,” she said, snapping to. She thought about moving to the front of the room but decided against it. She liked having the wall to lean on for support.

  It only took a moment for her nervousness to subside as she got into the details of the case. She walked them through what had occurred so far, largely in chronological order. She showed the surveillance footage of the van, then connected Ashley’s phone into a large flat-screen monitor and showed pictures from the Photos album.

  She held nothing back, even though she knew that once she shared everything, her value to the case would be gone in Hillman’s eyes and he could remove her. But if that meant Ashley was found, it was a small price to pay.

  “What’s the deal with this Rivers kid? Is he a legit suspect?” Detective Manny Suarez asked. He’d been the one Mia Penn had called earlier at Keri’s instruction. A squat, sleepy-eyed man in his forties with permanent stubble, Suarez was much sharper than he let on, which was by design.

  “Denton Rivers, the ex-boyfriend, is in Interrogation Two. He hasn’t been especially cooperative so far. He still needs to be thoroughly questioned to see if he was the one driving the black van, if he hired someone to do it, or whether he knows anything useful. Ashley dumped him four days ago. It’s possible he flipped out—thought that if he couldn’t have Ashley, no one could. He has motive, but that’s not going to be enough to hold him if we don’t find more.”

  Keri took a breath and glanced around the room. Everyone was at rapt attention. It seemed that at least they were taking this seriously. She continued.

  “CSU needs to process his house on Woodlawn. They need to test the blood on the carpet to see if it’s a match for Ashley. There were also six pairs of apparently stolen license plates in the shed. The owners of those plates need to be questioned about when they went missing and if they saw who took them. Every surveillance camera in the are
a on Main, Westminster, and the surrounding streets needs to be reviewed as soon as possible. Ashley’s new love interest, Walker, needs to be found and questioned. All of Ashley’s friends and teachers at school need to be located and questioned.”

  Detective Suarez piped in at that point.

  “I’ve compiled a list based on what Mia Penn told me on the phone. We can start to reach out as soon as the meeting’s over.”

  “Thanks, Manny. We may need to pull in someone from the drug task force too. Ashley was clearly getting pot from someone. Her dealer should be found and questioned. I have a feeling he’ll know more about the other side of Ashley’s life, things her friends might be reluctant to reveal. Same thing for whomever it was that made the fake ID for her.”

  In the front of the room, Lt. Hillman took a short call from someone and then waved for Keri to stop talking.

  He switched the monitor to TV mode and flicked to the news. Local anchor Amber Smith, an LA institution, had interrupted tonight’s episode of Jeopardy! with a breaking news update.

  “We are getting reports that Ashley Penn, the daughter of California Senator Stafford Penn, is missing. She reportedly vanished after leaving West Venice High School this afternoon.”

  A photo of Ashley appeared on the screen along with a phone number. Amber continued.

  “This is a very preliminary report and has not been verified as of this time, but anyone knowing anything about the whereabouts of Ashley Penn should call the Los Angeles Police Department at the number on your screen. We will update this story as news develops and have a full report on Action News at eleven. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.”

  Hillman turned off the monitor. He looked frustrated but not surprised.

  “That’s our cue, folks. We’re going to divide everything up and get going. Also be clear; this is a team effort. I’m going to repeat that. This is a team effort. If you’re thinking of jockeying for position or withholding information for your own advantage or doing anything that doesn’t move this case along as fast as possible, I want you to stand up now and walk out of this room.”

  Everyone looked around. No one stood up.