“She says she’s your girlfriend.”
“Depends on what you mean by girlfriend. Xstacy’s a friend. I’m not gay if that’s what you’re asking. But when Ely Wade started harassing me, I was glad she was around. Never hurts to have an extra set of eyes looking out for you. Xstacy can call me whatever she likes. I really don’t care.”
“You believed Ely Wade was stalking you.”
“He tried to get backstage a couple times. Bouncers wouldn’t let him. Then one night he was out back, behind the club where a bunch of us girls go to smoke, waiting for me. He tried to get me off by myself. Kept saying how pretty he thought I was. That he wanted to help me with my career. I told him I didn’t need his help and to get lost. After that, management posted another bouncer out back by the door, but it didn’t last. They said the girls shouldn’t be out there anyway. The door had a lock on it and nobody could get in. That’s when Xstacy and I decided if the club wasn’t going to do anything, we would.”
“It was Xstacy’s idea to run Ely down with her van?” I bit the end my pen and waited for Sam to answer.
“More or less.” Sam shrugged like she didn’t care.
“Meaning what?” I asked.
“Meaning the reason Xstacy doesn’t want her name to come up with any investigation concerning Ely Wade’s death is because she’s afraid of what might happen if it did.”
“She’s afraid she might be charged with murder?”
“Jail’s the least of her worries. What’s got Xstacy freaked was that Ely wasn’t alone that night. He had a friend with him.”
“A witness?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No. But I got the idea there might be something more.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s not like she’s been thinking clearly since the accident. Nice girl, but not too smart, if you know what I mean. Anyway, right after Xstacy hits Ely with her van, she freaks. There he was lying in the street with blood all over him. Dead as could be. Xstacy had just called the police on her cell, just like we planned, and when I heard the sirens, I got out of there. Only, that’s when Xstacy saw this man come running down the alley. He was hollering for Ely like he knew him, and when he saw him lying there in the street, he must have also seen the cop cars coming. Because Xstacy said he stopped, looked straight at her. Told her he’d get her for this and gave her the finger. Then he took off. Xstacy wasn’t going to say anything to the cops, and now she’s afraid if he finds her, he’ll kill her.”
“You any idea who this other man was?”
“All I know is that creep Ely never showed up alone. He always had another man with him. Sometimes they’d sit up front together by the stage.”
“You remember what this other man looked like?”
“It’s hard to see anyone from the stage. Xstacy said he had dark hair. Big shoulders. But I couldn’t tell you.”
“And you don’t have a name?”
“No. Men around bars like the Sky High always pay cash. That’s the way it is with strip clubs. The men don’t want to leave a trail.”
“And since the accident, has he come back?”
Sam shook her head and smiled. “You don’t know how these clubs work, do you? I work one club for a while and then I’m on to another. My last night at the Sky High was the night of the accident. Right now I’m working downtown. As for Xstacy, she was so freaked out she moved out of her apartment and told management she wasn’t coming back.”
“Where’s Xstacy living now?” I asked.
“I was hoping you might tell me,” Sam said. “For all I know, she might be living in her van.”
CHAPTER 8
Friday morning I met Cate and her dad outside LAPD’s new police administration building on the corner of West First Street and North Main. Cate looked pale. She was dressed in a short, sleeveless cotton dress with flats and was shaking like an autumn leaf. In her hands, she was holding a paper cup filled with hot coffee like I do when I need to calm myself. Standing next to her in a blue pinstriped suit was Mr. King, and behind him, Chase. Together, they all looked like a defense team about to face an executioner.
“You ready?” I put my arm around Cate’s shoulder and pulled her to me. “You’ll be fine,” I whispered.
Cate nodded. The look in her eye not so sure.
“She’s got nothing to worry about.” King stepped between us. “Just remember, Cate, don’t say anything unless I tell you to. Just answer what they ask and keep your answers short. Like we rehearsed.” Then turning to me, he added, “And Carol, I want you to stay outside with Chase. You can’t be in the room when they question her.”
“What?” I shook my head and raised my hands in protest. “No. That doesn’t work. Not at all. I’m her mother. I need to be there.”
“Trust me, Carol, you don’t need to be there, and the cops aren’t going to want you in the room when they question her. I’ve already spoken to Cate about it and she’s fine with just her dad and me. You and I can talk after. I’ll fill you in on what happened.”
I was about to make another objection when Chase pulled me aside.
“He’s right, Carol. You need to let King do his thing. They’re not going to arrest her. They’re simply going to ask her a few questions. How she met Pete. How long she’s known him. That kind of thing. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
I watched as Cate, her dad, and Mr. King disappeared behind the glass doors to the building. My mind was full of crazy scenarios. I had reported on enough police investigations to know how overworked many LAPD detectives were and how easy it was to coerce a nervous witness. Under the right circumstances, people confessed to all kinds of things.
“I wish I could be as certain of that as you are,” I said.
“Relax,” Chase said, “The District Attorney told King they already know Cate and Pete were together the night Shana was killed.”
“How?”
“How do you think? They checked Pete’s van and found a gas receipt for the country store in Big Bear just like she told you. Then they checked the store for security cameras and got both Pete and Cate on tape. All they’re going to want from her now is to know how she and Pete hooked up and what she knows about his roommate, Billy Tyson.”
An hour later, Cate came bursting out from within the building. She was steps ahead of King and her dad and looked as though she were about to be sick. She stopped at one of the small planters outside the doors and wrapped her arms around her waist and bowed her head.
“Catie?” I walked over to her and put my arms around her shoulders. She was shaking.
Cate looked at me, her eyes filled with tears. “Mom, they won’t let me see Pete. He’s still in lockup. I can’t even talk to him.” Her voice was strained.
I pulled her close and held her like I might if she were still a small child and I could fix everything with a kiss and the promise of ice cream.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said. I stroked the hair away from her eyes and looked into her tearstained face. “I promise.”
“I know you think so, Mom, but I want to get out of here. Dad says if we leave now we can take the boat to Catalina. He thinks it’d be a good idea if I came along. I know you want me to come home, but I can’t. I need to go. Please?”
I looked back at my ex standing with King in front of the doors to the police station. Were they talking or was he avoiding eye contact with me? How could he take my daughter away now? She needed her mother, or maybe I needed her? I put my hands on the side of Cate’s face and looked into her eyes. Perhaps a change of scenery and fresh air might be a good idea.
“If it’s what you want, yes. Of course. But you need to be back Sunday night and don’t be late. You’ve got to be at work Monday morning.”
Cate bussed me on the cheek. “You don’t have to remind me. See you Sunday.”
I watche
d as Cate left me and went to her dad, grabbed his hand like a child, and walked off with him.
King waited until they were out of earshot then approached. “Carol, you got a minute?” With his index finger he motioned for me to follow to a corner of the quad with a small bench and sat down.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“About what I expected,” King said. “They asked her a lot of questions about Pete, their relationship, and Billy Tyson. But that’s not what I need to talk to you about right now.”
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Tyler called me last night. He mentioned we may have an issue concerning a confidential source you interviewed.”
“Oh?” I said. My stomach tightened. Whatever King had to tell me I feared wouldn’t be good.
“He said this witness confessed to killing the Model Slayer.”
“That’s how I understand it.”
“To be honest, Carol, it’s the reason I didn’t want you in the room when they questioned Cate. Detective Soto’s convinced Pete’s good for the murders. And the fact Cate’s not only Pete’s girlfriend, but your daughter as well puts you in a messy position. You suddenly start quoting anonymous sources and information that pertains to the case, they’re going to want to subpoena you.” King shook his head. “Dammit, Carol, I hate to say it, but you’ve gotten yourself into a tight situation.”
I couldn’t look King in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Carol, but if you’re subpoenaed and refuse to reveal your source, you’re looking at jail time. And don’t go thinking the California Shield Law will protect you. It may have been designed to protect a reporter from revealing his sources, but if the judge orders you to reveal what information you have along with your source and you refuse, there’s not much I can do.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Find another way. A way to reveal whatever your source shared with you without revealing who they are. And quickly. For everyone’s sake.”
“Believe me, I’m working on it.” In the back of my mind, I was already thinking of ways I could find Xstacy’s mystery man without the cops ever knowing anything about Xstacy or Sam. Something that wouldn’t cause the cops to reopen their investigation into Xstacy’s accident. That would keep Sam’s identity a secret and Pete would go free.
“Good, because right now, the less the police know what you’re doing, the better.”
I left King and started to walk back towards Chase when I heard someone call my name. I turned around and nearly stumbled. I hadn’t seen Eric since our breakup six months ago. He jogged over to me. Six foot four and with the body of a long-distance runner.
“I thought I recognized those legs. How you doing?” Eric smiled.
Under any other circumstances Eric’s smile would have been disarming.
I steeled my surprise, my stomach bumping up against my heart, and lied. “Fine,” I said. “And how about you? What are you doing here?”
“You know how it goes, following up on a case I can’t talk about. And you?”
“Same old same old. Reporting on news you guys don’t want to talk about.” I forced a smile. The moment was awkward for us both.
Eric looked down at his shoes, black polished and spit-shined, then glanced at me from beneath his arched brows. “Always on the case, huh?”
“Hey, there’s a deadline somewhere.”
“I suppose so. Well, it’s good to see you.” Eric leaned in and bussed me lightly on the cheek, like an old friend. “You look great by the way.”
“You too,” I said. Maybe a little grayer around the temples, but still Eric. Always Mr. FBI. Fit, trim, and handsome.
“Stay safe, Carol.”
My throat tightened as I watched the man who I once thought could have been my everything walk back inside the building. I refused to think about it. We had closed that door, and I had work to do. A killer to find and a daughter’s faith to restore.
“Old friend?” Chase waited on the sidewalk for me and took a sucker from inside his pocket. “Or maybe more of a complication?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grabbed the sucker from Chase and started to walk back toward my Jeep. My hand was on the door when Chase stopped me.
“So what’s up, Carol? Is it Cate or that complication back there who’s got you so uptight?” Chase nodded in the direction of the building.
“I’m not uptight,” I snapped.
“Clearly.”
“In fact, King assured me Cate’s fine.”
“He did, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Then where’s she going?”
“Her father thought she needed to get away. They’re taking the boat to Catalina.”
Chase grabbed me by the arm and spun me around. “You’re hiding something, Carol. I know when someone’s not shooting straight with me. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“That’s too bad, because I was going to offer to buy you dinner. See if maybe I could help with your daughter. But based on what I just saw back there,” Chase nodded back in the direction of the doors where Eric and I had been talking, “I get the feeling it’s not just Cate who’s got you upset.”
“I’m not upset. Like I told you before, it’s–”
“I know. It’s complicated.”
My cell phone buzzed. I glanced down at the face of my phone. Tyler had texted me. 911. Fire in the North Valley.
“Sorry, Chase, I’ve got to go.”
CHAPTER 9
Southern Californians like to say they only have two seasons. Earthquake and Fire. Both of them driven by the Santa Anas or the devil wind, known for creating havoc with their dry seasonal temperatures that suck the moisture from the earth with gales of red desert dust that sweep down from the mountains and howl like wounded animals. The Santa Anas can drive a person crazy. I’ve covered enough stories—everything from suicides to shootings—to know when the winds blow, strange things happen.
The winds had started at dawn and by the time I got to the station, were gusting at speeds up to forty miles an hour. North of the city, a firestorm had started to eat away at the hillsides like Pac-Man and threatened to choke the valley below with a thick blanket of black smoke. Every fire truck, fixed-wing tanker, and water-carrying helicopter within the county had been called into action. The city was on full alert.
Tyler assigned me to the news booth and told me I was hostage to the situation until things died down. It was my job to chat it up with the on-air hosts while keeping our listeners up to date on the road closures, evacuations, and conditions in the field. By the time the sun finally set and my shift ended, the direction of the winds had changed, and the fire–the press had now dubbed the Oh Susana Fire–was 30 percent contained. I had been on the air for better than six hours straight and felt like my voice had dropped an octave. My throat felt as raw and dry as the hills the fire had swept through.
Back in my office I had two messages. The first from Tyler, reminding me, despite the destruction of the fire and Pete’s arraignment this morning, he was still waiting for a list of questions and names for the Town Hall meeting. He needed them before I went home for the day. The second was from Sam. She had tried my cell phone, left a message there and hoped this might be a better number. Please call.
I hung up the phone, took my cell from my bag, and searched for Sam’s number.
The call went immediately to voicemail. “Sam here. Can’t take your call right now. Leave a message. I’ll call ya back.”
I left my name and number and told Sam to call anytime, then stared back at my computer. If Tyler wanted a list of questions and names, I needed to get busy. I put together a quick list of the usual suspects. The mayor. People from City Hall. LAPD. And Philip Petre, aka Papa Phil, a gay activist, supportive
of a number of civil causes, including lobbying City Hall for better crosswalks in the valley. A year ago, Papa Phil’s partner had been killed after leaving a nightclub as he crossed Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood. I was in the process of finalizing a list for Tyler when my cell rang. Caller ID identified the caller as Sam Miller.
“Hi, Sam. I got your message. What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking about the guy Ely used to hang out with. He might still be there, waiting to see if Xstacy or I show up. You want to come to the club with me and check?”
“When?” I asked. While the valley was still smoldering from the fire, the rest of the city, particularly on the other side of the Santa Monica Mountains, was business as usual.
“How about tonight?”
“I thought you weren’t working the Sky High anymore?” I was surprised Sam would even think of going back after what she had told me about Ely’s friend.
“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go together.”
“You’re not worried Ely’s friend might recognize you?”
“It’s not like I’m planning on being on stage. Believe me, the man won’t recognize me. Not with clothes on anyway.” Sam paused. “That’s a joke, Carol.”
“Right.” I chuckled to myself and saved the Town Hall files I had been working on and attached them to an email to Tyler. Then added a short note. Following up with Xstacy’s friend, Sam. More TK. That’s journalism-speak for “to come.” I hit send and stood up. “Sam, you’re sure you’re up for this?”
“I’ve got to do something. I haven’t heard from Xstacy and I’m getting worried.”
“What time?”
“Ten o’clock. The club’ll be busy by then. I’ll meet you at the bar. And try not to look too much like a reporter, will you? You don’t want to stand out in a place like that.”
Sam hung up and I stared down at my black slacks and sensible shoes, something I’d worn to meet with Cate downtown at LAPD’s Robbery-Homicide unit. If I didn’t want to stand out like a mud hen in my conservative little black and white business suit, I needed a change of outfits, and I knew exactly where to go.
REASON TO DOUBT Page 6
