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

by Pierce, Blake

  But Keri wasn’t any of those. She was a detective with the LAPD. And she was pretty good at spotting a liar, even one as practiced as Senator Stafford Penn.

  “You’re lying to me. And so help me God, I don’t care if you’re a senator or the president of the United States, I don’t care if it costs me my job. I will take you in for impeding an investigation. And I’ll do it by walking you out those doors in cuffs in front of all those reporters and tossing you in the back seat of my tiny, dented hatchback. Let’s see you get reelected after that.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Keri saw the security guard cover his mouth to hide his wide grin.

  “What do you want?” Penn hissed through gritted teeth.

  I want to know the exact thing you’re hiding from me.

  Stafford didn’t hesitate, “I’m not hiding anything.”

  Mia looked at him. “Stafford—”

  “Mia, stop.”

  “Come on, Stafford, enough already.”

  “We’re done here,” the senator said, staring at Keri. She stared back for several seconds.

  “Apparently we are,” she agreed, pulling out her cuffs and stepping toward him.

  Mia stood up.

  “Tell her,” she said in a forceful tone Keri had never heard from her before.

  He shook his head.

  “She has no right.”

  “Stafford, tell her or I will.”

  He exhaled, then shook his head as if astonished at the stupidity of what he was about to do.

  “Wait here.” He headed upstairs. A minute later he came back down and handed Keri a piece of paper. “This was in our mailbox this morning.” The paper was plain white and the words were typed.

  You have wronged me. Now you will be wronged.

  Payback is a bitch. Prepare to face the music.

  “I can’t believe you were sitting on this,” Keri said.

  Stafford sighed. “It’s not legit.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’m ninety percent sure who sent it.”

  “Who?”

  “Payton Penn; he’s my half-brother,” Stafford said. “We have the same father, different mothers.”

  Keri said, “I still don’t get it.”

  “Payton, to put it mildly, is a loser,” Stafford said. “He hates this family. He hates me, because of some events that occurred when we were growing up. Plus, he’s obviously jealous of how my life turned out. He hates Mia, because he could never get someone like her. And he hates Ashley, mostly because Ashley hates him. He knows stuff about our family, including something the public doesn’t know and which I’m sharing with you in confidence: I’m Ashley’s real father.”

  Keri nodded solemnly, pretending to be flattered and surprised by his big reveal.

  “I appreciate you trusting me with that information, Senator. I know your privacy is important to you and I won’t violate that. But I’m waiting for the part where you explain why your half-brother shouldn’t be a suspect.”

  “We’ve been paying him hush money ever since I became a senator to keep quiet about Ashley and…a few other things we don’t need to go into now. So it makes no sense for him to rock the boat now. He’s putting his guaranteed money at risk. Plus it’s not even really a ransom note.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s typical Payton. He’s not willing to go all the way. Look how vague the letter is. ‘You have wronged me’? That could be from thousands of people here or in Washington. He never even actually asks for money.”

  “So what do you think is going on?”

  “Knowing my brother, he heard about Ashley being missing and thought he could capitalize on it by writing this letter. But he didn’t have the balls to actually demand a ransom. He just sort of left the option open for the future if he was able to screw up his courage. It’s either that or he figured this was a good time to twist the knife in, when I’m at my lowest point. He doesn’t get many chances to stick it to me. So he didn’t want to waste this one.”

  “Okay. But what makes you so confident that he didn’t discover his balls and actually take her?”

  “Because when Ashley went missing yesterday after school and Mia started flipping out, I called a private investigator I use occasionally, just to check on him. Payton was at work all day yesterday until five. As you know, Ashley got into the van a little after three.”

  “Are you positive he was at work?”

  “Yes. The investigator sent me a copy of the building’s surveillance footage. He’s all over it.”

  “He could have hired someone.”

  “He doesn’t have the money for that.”

  “I thought you were paying him.”

  “Not enough to hire someone to steal my daughter.”

  “Maybe his partner is planning on getting a windfall from the ransom.”

  “The ransom he hasn’t asked for? Enough, Detective. I’ve answered your questions. This is a dead-end. And just so you know, I’m calling Lieutenant Hillman to report that you threatened me. With your service record, I’m not sure how well that will go for you.”

  “Oh, shut up, Stafford!” Mia yelled at him. “If you cared half as much about your daughter as your career, none of this would be happening!”

  He looked like he’d been slapped in the face. His eyes rimmed slightly with tears and he turned away quickly without responding, focusing his attention back on the television.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Mia said. As they headed for the front door, a thought occurred to Keri.

  “Mia, did Payton ever have access to the house?”

  “Well, we tried to reconcile with him a few times over the years. We even let him stay with us for the long weekend last Easter. It didn’t go well.”

  “Was he always supervised?”

  “No, I mean, that would have defeated the point. We were trying to resolve all these issues. Having security tail him all weekend would have undermined that trust a little, don’t you think?”

  “And it ended badly?”

  “He and Stafford got into a screaming match and he left early. That’s the last time we saw him.”

  “Thank you,” Keri said and quickly left. The press was still outside and she didn’t want to look suspicious so she tried not to sprint to her car.

  But she came close.

  There was something she needed to do urgently.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Tuesday

  Mid-morning

  As Keri sped up the winding roads of Highway 18 toward Lake Arrowhead, her phone rang. She’d hoped that up here in the mountains she wouldn’t have a connection and it would go straight to voicemail. No such luck. Against her better judgment, she picked up, hitting the speaker button on the console.

  Lieutenant Hillman’s voice came through loud and clear.

  “Where are you?” he demanded. He wasn’t yelling but she could tell it was taking all his effort.

  “I’m going to Payton Penn’s cabin up at Lake Arrowhead.”

  “Turn around now,” he said. “I told you before that the County and the FBI were taking over the case. Instead of following my orders, you decide to harass a US senator?”

  “I wasn’t harassing. I was investigating.”

  “Keri—” He sounded almost pleading.

  “Stafford has a half-brother, Payton Penn, who put a note in his mailbox.”

  “I already know that,” Hillman said.

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And we’re checking him out. But so far what the senator said seems to bear out. Everything supports the theory that she ran away. At most, this is an amateurish attempt to take advantage of the situation to extort money. Penn doesn’t want to pursue it criminally. It’s a family issue that he wants to handle quietly.”

  “We should at least check it out.”

  “The Feds are. And if anything turns up, they’ll pursue it. But you going out there only draws attention to something P
enn wants to keep quiet.”

  “Do we work for him now?” she asked, more forcefully than she’d intended.

  “Detective, stop!” Hillman shouted. “I want you to turn around right now. You are officially off this case.”

  “Look, I’m almost to Payton’s. I’ll just check around to confirm that Ashley’s not there. I’ll be in and out in five minutes.”

  “Detective Locke,” he said in a calm, quiet voice that worried her more than when he yelled, “you are an enormously skilled cop. But your insubordination is unacceptable. I’m suspending you from active duty, effective immediately. Return to the station and turn in your gun and your badge. You’ll continue to receive pay pending a formal hearing, if you want one. But as of this moment, you are no longer authorized to act as a member of the Los Angeles Police Department. Do you understand me?”

  Keri weighed his words, well aware that this was a point of no return. But she’d had many of those in the past. This was far from the worst. She spoke.

  “Lieutenant Hillman, are you there?”

  “Detective…” he growled.

  “Lieutenant, are you there? Hello, hello? I think I’m losing you. You keep cutting out.”

  “Locke, don’t you dare pretend—”

  Keri ended the call.

  *

  Keri parked about a quarter mile down the road from Payton Penn’s cabin, deep in the San Bernardino Mountains. She got out slowly, taken aback by the quiet, the isolation. She felt that familiar knot in her stomach as she braced herself for what she might find as she went the rest of the way on foot.

  When she reached his driveway, she discovered it was essentially a wide dirt path, leading up a steep hill into the trees. She couldn’t even see the cabin from the road.

  As she started up the incline, Keri wondered for the third time in the last hour if she should call Ray. They hadn’t spoken since he’d embraced Hillman’s theory about Ashley running away back at the van. She knew she shouldn’t let her anger get in the way at a time like this. Sneaking onto a potentially dangerous suspect’s property was a dicey proposition under any circumstances.

  But alone was worse.

  Ultimately she told herself that she was protecting him by not calling. Hillman had already suspended her. What would he do to Ray if he helped her? Part of her knew she was kidding herself. Ray would come if she asked, no matter what.

  She shook the thought from her head. It was too late for that. She was on her own. And she needed to stay on her toes.

  The scent of pine wafted through the air as she ascended higher. Her breathing was labored. She felt sweat trickle down her back. Keri lived on a houseboat in a marina—the very definition of sea level. The elevation here was closer to 6,000 feet. And the cool morning was starting to give way to the late summer heat. She guessed it was already pushing eighty degrees. And her aches and pains from the run-ins with Johnnie Cotton and Crabby the pimp weren’t helping. Walking was a struggle.

  Suddenly a loud bang pierced the air—gunfire from up above. Apparently Payton Penn was home and he was armed.

  Keri confirmed her weapon status and checked her cell phone reception. It was still surprisingly strong. She pressed on, fully aware that she was now technically a civilian with a gun on a private citizen’s property. She was trespassing. Payton Penn could shoot her and make a reasonable case for self-defense.

  For a fraction of a second, Keri considered turning back. This was not the wisest course of action. But if she didn’t go up, she wasn’t sure when, or if, anyone else would. How would she feel if she found out later that she was this close to Ashley and didn’t take the last few steps to get to her?

  Keri walked up dirt path, one careful step at a time, mindful of nearby boulders and trees in case she needed to duck for cover. She was closer to the gunfire now. It was intermittent, consistent with target practice.

  She was far enough up the driveway that she could no longer hear traffic from the road below. Apart from the echoes from the gunfire, it was quiet up here. The tall trees muffled the noise and blocked out the sun. It felt more like dusk than the actual time—9:45 AM. The road snaked up the side of the mountain, leading to the isolated cabin. Keri realized that this far up, no one would likely be able to hear anyone’s screams for help.

  It took another ten minutes of walking before the cabin came into sight. The decrepit old place stood in a large clearing in the middle of a circle of trees. An old pickup truck was parked near the front door. The gunfire, coming from behind the cabin, was now almost at full volume.

  Keri ducked behind a moss-covered boulder and scoped the place out. No one came into view. The gunfire continued. If this was target practice, it was a long session. The guy was clearly enjoying himself. Keri wondered how he’d react if he spotted her, both of them with weapons in hand.

  Her heart pounded. Sweat rolled down her forehead and into her eyes. She wiped at it with the back of her hand, steadied her breathing, surveyed the area one last time, and headed rapidly for the cabin. If Payton suddenly appeared around the corner, Keri would be in plain view.

  The gunfire stopped.

  Is he reloading? Is he done and heading back into the cabin?

  She got to the pickup and squatted behind it, listening. Somewhere up above, a jet rumbled. To her right, bees worked on a patch of wild cactus, buzzing lightly as they flew from one set of needles to the next.

  Keri stepped out from behind the pickup, stood there in the open for a heartbeat, and then quietly made her way to the side of the cabin, where she peeked through the screen door. The place was pretty much what she expected—a bulky couch, a ratty wooden coffee table with a dusty old laptop on it, a wood-burning stove, a sink filled with dirty dishes, clutter everywhere. Cigarette smoke hung in the air.

  There was no sign of Ashley.

  Suddenly the back door of the cabin opened and someone entered, not yet visible. Seconds later, he entered the main room. He bore a striking resemblance to Stafford but he looked harder, more weathered. He was unshaven and his eyes were bloodshot. Life had been tougher on him than Stafford. He wore dirty jeans and a loud red T-shirt. Sweat soaked through it at the armpits. He set two handguns on the coffee table. Then he went to the fridge, got a beer, and popped the top.

  Keri decided that was as good a time as any to make her entrance. She pushed the unlocked screen door open and stepped inside.

  “Don’t move!” she yelled, her weapon pointed at his chest. They were only six feet apart.

  Payton Penn did as he was ordered. The beer was at his lips and he made no move to bring it down. He seemed surprisingly calm, considering the circumstances.

  “Where’s Ashley Penn?” Keri demanded.

  The man smiled.

  “Is it okay if I put this beer down? You said don’t move and I don’t want to break the rules.”

  Keri nodded. He pulled the bottle away from his lips and reached out to put it on the end table. But at the last second he flicked it in her direction and leapt at her.

  Keri had been prepared for something from him and sidestepped the bottle. She felt some beer splash on her neck but otherwise avoided contact entirely. Payton seemed to realize he had underestimated her but it was too late. She was no longer directly in his path and he couldn’t stop his momentum.

  Keri took her finger off the trigger and lifted the grip upward so that Payton’s head slammed into the magazine butt plate. His legs wobbled and he fell to the ground, conscious but stunned.

  “Get up,” Keri ordered, tossing her handcuffs at him. “And put those on. If you try anything else, I’ll shoot you in the kneecap.”

  He stumbled to his feet.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said, smiling, and added, “Are you afraid to shoot me somewhere permanent?”

  She pointed the weapon at his chest and narrowed her eyes.

  “If you don’t tell me where Ashley is, you’re not much use to me. I may have to take you out back and use you for target pra
ctice.”

  Part of her hoped he’d come at her. The idea of making him bleed and cry was extremely appealing. But that wouldn’t help Ashley. He seemed to sense that she was on the edge and put the cuffs on without argument. Then he seemed to regain his courage and looked her at her directly. His eyes were twinkling. Keri realized at that moment that he was half crazy.

  “Apart from requesting my lawyer, I’d like to invoke my right to remain silent,” he said before adding with a wink, “Now what?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Tuesday

  Late Morning

  Keri did a cursory pat-down of Penn before cuffing him to the radiator. Then she searched the property, calling out Ashley’s name. She opened as many doors and banged on as many walls as she could without messing things up too much for CSU. When they got to the cabin, they’d want the scene as pristine as possible and she didn’t want to do anything that might compromise evidence. But she found nothing tying Ashley to the place.

  Meanwhile, the whole time she searched, Payton Penn repeated the same word over and over like a mantra: “Lawyer.”

  Eventually she decided to take him in, but not to Pacific Division, which was a two-hour drive and had an angry lieutenant waiting to confiscate her badge and gun. Nothing that had happened at the cabin was likely to change Hillman’s mind about that. She called the Twin Peaks substation of the San Bernardino Sheriff’s Department to let them know they’d be having visitors.

  As she did a more thorough body check of Payton Penn before walking him down the hill, she discovered a phone in his pocket. It was emitting a soft beeping noise every three seconds.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Lawyer,” he answered.

  Keri tossed it on the couch in frustration.

  “Seriously,” he said, “it’s an alert beacon that goes out to my lawyer. I pushed it while you were illegally searching my home. Since I don’t trust you to let me contact him, I did it myself. So if you’re thinking of roughing me up any more, just know that my attorney will be here soon.”