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

by Pierce, Blake

  Both of Auggie’s shots had missed. Ray had landed on top of him, pinned him down, and was proceeding to pummel the shit out of him. Auggie’s face was a pulpy mess. He wasn’t moving.

  “Ray, stop!” she shouted. “We need him alive!”

  Her words seemed to shake him out of his trance and he stopped punching. He rolled off Auggie onto his back and lay there on the asphalt, sucking in huge breaths.

  Keri ran over and looked into Auggie’s bloody swollen eyes. He was conscious. His breath was shallow but he was breathing.

  “Hi, Auggie.” she said. “We just stopped by to talk to you about one of your clients, a girl named Ashley Penn.”

  The man said nothing.

  “But now you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of a police officer. This could have gone so differently.”

  The man winced in pain and wheezed one word: “Cooperate.”

  Keri rolled him roughly over onto his stomach and yanked his arms behind his back to cuff him.

  “Oh, you better believe you’re going to cooperate, Auggie. Otherwise, this was just round one with the Sandman.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tuesday

  Wee Hours

  From behind the glass of the observation room, Keri, Ray, and Hillman watched as Auggie paced back and forth in Interrogation Room 1. Nobody had said a word to him in the forty-five minutes since Keri had promised him that his health depended on his cooperation. Multiple detectives, black-and-whites, and CSIs were down at the Blue Mist Lounge, processing the alley where a suspect had shot at an officer. Auggie was screwed. He was facing about a dozen charges, not the least of which was attempted murder. Everyone wanted to make it stick.

  Hillman looked at Keri. She knew he was pissed about having to come back to the station in the middle of the night.

  “You got five minutes, max. If the guy even says the word “lawyer,” I want you to immediately stop talking and leave the room. I want this guy off the streets and that means we’re going to play it strictly by the book. Just having him here right now instead of at the ER is a risk. I don’t want some sleazy defense lawyer wiggling him free. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Keri took a second to tuck in her shirt and make sure the hair was out of her face. She had a massive headache and possibly a cracked rib. But she didn’t want Auggie to think he’d made even a dent.

  She walked into the interrogation room and said, “Remember me?”

  Auggie started to say something but Keri waved him to a halt. “Don’t say the word lawyer. If you do I have to stop talking and then I can’t help you.”

  Auggie scoffed at her.

  “You two never identified yourselves,” he said. “I thought you were there to rob me or something. That’s why I ran. Out in the alley, when I shot, that was total self-defense. I have a license for the gun. You can check it out. I didn’t do nothing wrong.”

  Keri rolled her eyes.

  “Look, you’re going to spend some time in jail, that’s just the way things are. But whether that time turns out to be five or fifty years may very well depend on how many friends you make around here in the next five minutes. So here’s your one and only chance. Tell me about Ashley Penn.”

  Auggie didn’t need to be told twice.

  “I never personally sold anything to her, or to anyone, for that matter.”

  It was a lie but Keri let it slide. She sensed there was more coming.

  “But…?”

  “But I heard a rumor that she did frequent the neighborhood now and then, if you know what I mean. I also heard a rumor that she recently made a very large purchase because she was going to head to a different state. She wanted a reserve until she could find a hook-up there.”

  “Which state?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who was she going with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Was it a long-haired guy?”

  “I know who you mean. That rock star guy,” Auggie said. “No, it wasn’t him. Rumor was that it was with one of her girlfriends.”

  This is new. Did Ashley have a side piece and Walker found out? He wouldn’t like that.

  “Can you describe this girl?” she asked.

  “Nah, man, all I know is rumors. That girl had a lot of rumors about her.”

  Keri left the room. Hillman had given her five minutes and she’d used less than two.

  Her mind raced.

  Could Walker have learned about the plan and tried to put a stop to it? Could he have pulled Ashley into the van, initially just to talk her out of leaving, but then, maybe things escalated afterward? Maybe things got violent? Walker didn’t have an alibi. But he didn’t have a van either.

  She stood outside the interrogation room, turning the options over in her head until Hillman and Ray came out of the observation room to join her.

  “There you go. She ran away,” Hillman said.

  Keri doubted it.

  “Maybe she was planning to but I don’t think that’s what happened.”

  “Why not?”

  “The girl who got in that van didn’t look like she was going on some big trip,” she said.

  Hillman shook his head.

  “Maybe she and this mystery girl were headed to the place where they loaded up for the trip. Didn’t Walker Lee say she was considering faking her own abduction?”

  “He did. But he said she wasn’t serious. It’s not impossible but it just doesn’t feel right. Everything about this case feels like an abduction.”

  Hillman sighed deeply. She could tell he was trying not to lose his cool.

  “It’s almost three in the morning. We’ve been going at this thing nonstop for over ten hours and we don’t have anything firm to indicate that she was taken as opposed to leaving on her own. Unfortunately for you, Detective Locke, we don’t pursue cases based on how they feel. So this gut feeling you have isn’t enough to go on.”

  She needed him on her side so Keri fought the urge to come back at him too hard.

  “It’s more than just my gut, sir.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know,” Keri said. “I can’t think right now.”

  “Exactly,” Hillman said. “We’re all zombies. What that means is that we’re all going home now to get some rest, which is what you should have done in the first place. That’s an order.” He focused on Keri and repeated the words. “That’s an order.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Sleep,” he repeated, before adding, “but I want everyone back here at seven in the morning.”

  *

  Before heading home, Keri made a quick stop at her desk. She wanted to run both Thomas “The Ghost” Anderson and the defense lawyer, Jackson Cave, through the databases to see if anything magically popped up. She was curious about Anderson but time was short so she decided to focus on Cave, who was more immediately relevant right now. There was lots of info but nothing immediately incriminating.

  Still, she couldn’t help but suspect that Cave might have information on the Collector. He might even have a real name. Keri had to find out. But how?

  Even if she broke into his office it wasn’t like he’d have a file in a cabinet labeled “abductors for hire.” This was the kind of information that he kept safely tucked away in his head. And she needed to find a way to access it. Maybe she could find some dirt on him, something that would get him disbarred if he didn’t cooperate with her. Blackmail was a useful tool.

  She sighed heavily and lost her focus briefly. Almost instantly, thoughts of Evie flooded her head. She saw the expression of terror on her daughter’s face as she looked back at her mother that day in the park, her little body clutched in a stranger’s arms. She heard the cries in her head.

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  She felt tears coming to her eyes and rushed to the restroom before anyone could notice. Once in a stall, she let go, allowing the silent sobs to wrack her body. She sat on th
e bathroom floor for five minutes before she trusted herself to get up.

  When she stepped out of the restroom, Ray was waiting for her. He put his arms around her.

  “I thought you went home,” she said.

  “Well, it looks like I didn’t. You want me to stay with you?”

  She considered it for half a second.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “No.” She smiled and said, “Ray, am I ever going to be okay?”

  “You’re already okay,” he said. “It’s just going to take some more time to work all the way through it.”

  “I don’t want to work through it. I want to find Evie.”

  “You will,” he said. “We will. What you need to do is stay strong until then. Okay?”

  She leaned into his hug.

  “You’re good people, Jolly Green Giant.”

  “You too, Thumbelina,” he said. “Did I say thanks for stopping me before I killed Auggie?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Five minutes later Keri was in the Prius. She was both exhausted and tingling with raw energy. She knew she had to go home to crash for a couple of hours if she was going to make any sense of this case. But before she did, there was one small thing she needed to do first.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tuesday

  Wee Hours

  Fighting the urge to sleep, Keri drove by West Venice High. She’d heard rumors that there was a vigil going on. She parked near the front entrance and walked over. It was hard to miss. About forty students and teachers stood on the grassy clearing below the main steps, lighting candles, holding hands, and talking about Ashley. Some chatted quietly among themselves. Others spoke dramatically for the cameras from local stations that had set up shop onsite. A few uniformed officers stood off to the side, leaning against the hood of their black-and-white, taking it all in.

  Keri moved among them as unobtrusively as possible. These people might be willing to talk, especially outside the intimidating confines of a police station. Maybe she could learn something of value from casual conversations that formal interviews might miss.

  Ashley’s third-period geometry teacher, Lex Hartley, a balding fifty-something potato of a man, said Ashley was a good kid, a normal kid, although he had to admit her grades had dropped lately.

  “Tell me about Artie North.”

  Hartley looked surprised.

  “Why? Is he involved?”

  “I’m just following up on some rumors. Did you ever hear any rumors that he was extorting Ashley for sex?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve known Artie for five years. He’s a good guy, a little lonely maybe. But he takes protecting these kids seriously.”

  “A month or so ago, did he get beat up?”

  “Yeah. He has a second job doing security work down at a Metrolink maintenance yard. A couple of homeless guys attacked him when he was trying to get them off the grounds.”

  “That’s what he told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How banged up was he?”

  “I don’t know…a purple eye, a busted lip.”

  In the ongoing war of conflicting stories between Artie North and Walker Lee, Keri wondered if she’d ever learn the truth.

  She pressed on through the crowd, gathering snippets of information from forthcoming students.

  A girl named Clarice Brown said that Ashley had been learning how to shoot a gun. She said it was for protection but wasn’t clear on whether she was protecting herself or someone else. She quietly whispered that Ashley had been doing a lot of drugs lately. To get the money, she’d been taking her mother’s jewelry out of the vault and pawning it.

  Miranda Sanchez, the girl who originally saw Ashley enter the van, was there too. She said that a lot of the girls at school were jealous bitches who hated Ashley. They started all kinds of rumors. You never knew what was true about Ashley or what was totally bogus made-up crap spawned by haters. Personally, she liked Ashley.

  A junior named Sean Ringer said that Ashley told him a couple of weeks ago that her dad, the senator, was in some kind of trouble. Ashley hadn’t elaborated but seemed sincere when she said it, maybe even a little scared.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Keri saw sudden movement in her direction. A reporter from KTLA had spotted her and was rushing over with a camera crew in tow. She turned her back, put on the baseball cap she’d kept in her back pocket for just this circumstance, and quickly weaved her way through the crowd, back toward the car. She heard a shouted question about thirty feet behind her.

  “Detective Locke, is it true that the FBI has taken over the Ashley Penn investigation?”

  She kept moving, saying nothing, walking as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

  *

  Back in the car on the way to the houseboat, Keri tried to process everything that had been thrown at her in the last few minutes.

  Had the FBI taken over the investigation? She wanted to call Hillman but thought better of it at 3:30 in the morning.

  She tried to sift rumor from fact. Ashley had bought a gun? Artie North had been beaten up by someone? Ashley was pawning jewelry? Senator Penn was in some kind of trouble?

  Instead of getting solid leads, all she had now were more questions, almost none of which had easy answers. She realized too late that she’d only made things worse by going to the school. If she’d just gone straight home, she’d be asleep by now. Instead, she was driving through the middle-of-the-night Venice streets, currently populated by dealers, hookers, and their pimps. She was too exhausted to care about any of them. Besides, her head and rib still throbbed after her altercation with Auggie.

  As she approached Windward Circle, only blocks from where Ashley had gone missing, Keri’s thoughts turned to Evie. How could she help some random teenage girl when she couldn’t even help her own daughter?

  Then it hit her—Evie was a teenage girl herself now. That is, if she was alive.

  Shut up! Don’t even think that. How dare you? She’s counting on you to find her, to save her. If you give up, how is she supposed to stay strong? I will find you, Evie. I will! Don’t give up, baby. Mommy hasn’t. I love you so much.

  She shook herself out of it. This was no use. She had to stay focused. When this case was over she’d approach Jackson Cave, find some way to make him tell her about the Collector. She wasn’t just some college professor anymore. She had the full resources of the LAPD at her disposal and she intended to use them. She would find this Collector, or die trying.

  And that was when she saw her, right there at the corner of Windward and Main. It was Evie!

  She’d seen enough age-progression computer renderings to recognize the similarities. The blonde girl on the corner in the tight black miniskirt had the exact same bone structure and skin color as her daughter. Yes, she was heavily made up and forced to wear a slinky top that was offensive on a girl her age. But she was a match.

  Keri almost retched at the sight of the large, pasty white man beside her, his hand firmly resting on the small of her back. He was well past forty and easily six feet tall and 250 pounds. And he was clearly her pimp.

  Keri slammed her foot on the brakes. The Prius fishtailed to a stop near the curb they stood on. She hopped out and hurried around the car.

  “Evie!” she shouted.

  The large man stepped forward to block her way.

  She tried to shove him aside to get to her girl but he grabbed her hard by the right wrist.

  “What do you think you’re doing, you crazy bitch?”

  Keri didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were focused solely on Evie.

  “You’re going to want to take your hands off me, Jabba,” she growled.

  He squeezed her wrist even harder.

  “Even middle-aged females don’t get to touch the merchandise before negotiating,” he said.

  Keri realized that with him holding her right wrist, her weapon was inacce
ssible. He was lucky. Otherwise she would have already shot him.

  She stopped pulling and he involuntarily loosened his grip. She knew she couldn’t break free but she’d gotten him to lower his guard. She moved toward him and stomped on the top of his foot with her heel. He grunted and bent over but didn’t let go. She swung around and clocked his now lowered head with her left elbow. He let go and stumbled backward.

  She would have reached for her gun but her wrist felt weak and numb. She wasn’t sure she could hold it, much less shoot it. Instead, she stepped toward him and kicked, hoping to use his backward momentum to knock him to the ground. She made good contact but he managed to grab her ankle as he fell and brought her down with him.

  No longer underestimating her, the pimp immediately rolled over so that his entire weight was on top of her. He pressed his knees into her already tender ribs, causing her to cry out in pain. He reached down and wrapped his arms around her neck. His eyes were bright with fury and spittle dripped from his mouth down into her hair.

  Keri sensed she only had a few seconds of consciousness left. She glanced over at Evie, who was standing unmoving and horrified on the curb. Her vision started to blur.

  I’m not going out like this!

  Keri forced herself to focus on the man on top of her. He was strong but also overconfident.

  Use that.

  With one swift, deft motion, she raised both hands in unison and jabbed her thumbs in both his wide open eyes. He howled and let go of her immediately. She wasted no time in reaching back and using all her strength to punch him in the Adam’s apple. He gagged and coughed. As he opened his mouth to gasp for air, she slammed his chin up with the open base of her palm. She heard him scream and knew his teeth had slammed shut on his tongue.

  She pushed him off and rolled over before stumbling to her feet. Before he could regroup, she kicked him in the back and he fell to the ground, splayed out on his stomach. She dropped on top of him, jamming her knee in the small of his back. Pulling out her handcuffs with one hand, she grabbed one of his arms, cuffed his wrist, and then secured it to the other. She stood up again and placed her foot on the back of his neck.