Freezeout: A Cold Poker Gang Mystery

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  “Hi, James,” the woman said, standing and coming around from behind the desk. “Thanks for giving us some warning on guests coming through. We have a couple new admissions that we needed to clear from the public areas to help them feel safe.”

  “Completely understand,” James said. “Thanks for allowing this tour. These are three detective friends of mine from the Las Vegas force. They can be trusted without fail.”

  Sarge felt shocked at what James had just said and clearly Pickett and Robin felt the same way. The three of them had just spent a lot of time possibly endangering this entire enterprise. So clearly James was betting that when they saw the place, it might make them forget about eighty-five murders.

  Sarge just shook his head. Not likely and James clearly wasn’t a stupid man. He knew Pickett and Robin would never do that, so there had to be another reason for this tour.

  Beyond the door behind the receptionist area, there was a large living area. All modern, all decorated with plants. Five or six seating areas with modern couches, chairs, and coffee tables filled the space. Everything was done in light tan, wood, and brown tones and to Sarge the place felt comfortable, and again gave no sense of being underground at all.

  That was helped by the varying ceiling height through the place. One area would have tall ceilings, another area the ceilings were down lower for a more intimate feel.

  Clearly James had done some designing on this and it had worked.

  Across the way was what looked to be a community kitchen with three or four different-sized dining tables.

  And past that was a large playground, with slides and all the modern stuff for kids to play on.

  There was no one to be seen.

  Sarge glanced around. The receptionist had not come with them, but the door still stood slightly ajar behind them.

  “Wow,” Robin said.

  “This is stunning and very comfortable,” Pickett said.

  Sarge had to agree with both of them.

  The hallways leading off in three directions,” James said, pointing at the three, “are to family apartments. Each apartment has a full living room, kitchen, dining area, and bedrooms. All fully furnished. Groceries are delivered every day for what each woman or family needs and asks for.”

  “All secured?” Sarge asked.

  “Completely,” James said. “But we have never had an issue here because we are so careful in extracting the women from their situations. And everything is blocked completely down here, including the audio Mike Dans helped you into a little bit ago. However, we left your trackers on so Mike and his people wouldn’t worry.”

  “Is Mike working for you?” Sarge asked.

  James laughed. “Oh, heavens, no. But I respect him and admire him and his team and what he does.”

  “Sounds like you have a pretty good team of your own,” Robin said.

  “We do,” James said, nodding. “It’s required to keep these women safe and get them the professional counseling help they need to get restarted in life. Plus get them moved and into a new life.”

  Now Sarge had to admit he was impressed. But he figured it was time to lay all their cards on the table since it was clear James and his people had been far, far ahead of them all along.

  “So what about the five Jones sisters?” Sarge asked.

  “They vanished, it seems, within an hour of the two of you showing up at my house,” James said, smiling at Sarge and Pickett. “I had no doubt that the three of you would eventually find them. Eventually.”

  “And where are they now?” Pickett asked.

  James just shook his head. “I honestly have no idea. I wish I did.”

  Sarge just stared at James for a moment. Pickett looked shocked.

  James indicated they move to a table. “Let’s sit down so I can tell you the entire story as I know it.”

  Sarge wasn’t so sure he wanted to sit with this man, but he would at least give James some rope to hang himself.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  November 21st, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  PICKETT WASN’T SURE what she was the most stunned about. The fantastic and modern facility hidden under an old parking lot or the fact that a man she had trusted had just admitted knowing about five serial killers.

  They all sat down at the table and Pickett sat back. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear this story. But she was willing to listen, to see if they could find any path to real evidence.

  “First off,” James said, “I want to tell you how pleased I am that you three managed to take this as far as you have.”

  “Sounds sort of condescending,” Robin said.

  Pickett felt the same way.

  “It was not intended that way,” James said, looking worried. “When I called Andor and suggested he give the three of you this case, this was exactly what I was hoping for. Exactly.”

  “You called Andor?” Sarge said a half second before Pickett could.

  James nodded. “I only learned about the five sisters about two months ago and I was appalled to say the least. Shocked and disgusted and yet I had no evidence at all to go to anyone about what was happening.”

  Sarge waved his hands in the air and said, “Let’s just stop right there. Would you start over from the beginning, back when you built and designed this place, and what it is all connected to?”

  “And then work us to the sisters,” Robin said.

  James nodded and took a deep breath. “I am certain you have researched my family history and the abusive father I had.”

  Pickett nodded, as did the other two.

  “When I started to attain a level of money, I started to look around for areas where I could help others and I came across these shelters. That was over twenty years ago and the shelters at that time were mostly just houses where women tried to protect abused women from their abusers.”

  Pickett knew all that. As a detective, she had been to her fair share of those homes on emergency calls as an abused wife tried to hide from an angry and usually drunk husband. In one case the angry husband had sprayed the building with gunfire, killing his own wife, kid, and one social worker.

  “At that point in time,” James said, “a national organization was forming, pulling in large private money to set up better facilities and networks to help the women and families relocate and get needed help, both physical and mental help. I joined the organization and helped design and set up the four clinics in this area.”

  “An operation of this size, to remain secret, takes some real work,” Sarge said.

  Pickett completely agreed with that. She couldn’t even imagine the money this took.

  “It takes money and good people,” James said, nodding. “And everyone who works here is fully committed to the cause. They often work frighteningly long hours to help others.”

  “So could you now tell us about the five sisters,” Robin said.

  James nodded and actually looked embarrassed. “As I said, I discovered two months ago that there is a splinter off of the national organization, one that is not sponsored or condoned in any fashion, that backs what the sisters were doing.”

  “And what exactly were they doing,” Sarge asked.

  “They were looking for the abused women who would never leave the abuser no matter how bad it got. They searched for the women trapped completely in the abuse cycle.”

  “And then the sisters would take care of the abuser,” Robin said.

  “That’s what I came to understand two months ago,” James said, nodding.

  Pickett had to admit, James looked sick and pale even admitting that much.

  “I tried to find out who they were through the national organization and no one had any idea what I was even talking about. And honestly, I believed them. This organization has nothing to do with the one that funds this place and all the others around the country.”

  “Who tipped you to what was happening?” Pickett asked.

  “Strickland,” James said. “He’s w
orked with us from the beginning, helped in so many ways without real pay. He got the one missing person’s case, Kathy Charles, that you were investigating and went deeper and discovered the death of an abuser in the woman’s family.”

  Pickett was impressed.

  Robin nodded. “I knew he was good, just didn’t know how good.”

  “He’s amazingly good,” James said. “But this drove him crazy all through the summer until he managed to put all the pieces together about the five sisters, in much the same way you three did in much faster time.”

  “And he brought you his findings two months ago?” Pickett asked.

  James nodded. “I got so angry, I thought I was going to have a stroke.”

  “But neither you nor Strickland could find any evidence, could you?” Sarge asked. “Hold up in court evidence? Or even who was funding the sisters.”

  “Not a bit,” James said. “So I called Andor and had him give you the Sandy Hunter missing person’s case as a favor to me. And not say anything.”

  “Does Andor know what this is all about?”

  “He doesn’t have a clue,” James said.

  “So how do you know the sisters have vanished?” Robin asked.

  “I called the organization’s main office and told them that three detectives were investigating on the case and getting closer. Of course, the main organization claimed they had no idea what I was talking about or why I was even telling them.”

  Pickett nodded.

  “Two days later Strickland told me that five cases of missing persons had been filed for five women, basically the five sisters. One was married, four had boyfriends. Strickland said it was the five sisters cutting and running. So I at least stopped five murders.”

  “That’s what we were hoping to do as well,” Pickett said.

  “So why did you have Strickland play along instead of just coming clean with us?” Sarge asked.

  “Because it has been my hope from the start that you would find these five sisters and find proof, real evidence, that they were serial killers and put them away without touching all this.”

  He waved his hand around at the massive room they were sitting in.

  Pickett understood that.

  “We know they are serial killers,” Robin said.

  “We know how they did it,” Sarge said.

  “And we know that they used Croton Oil to poison the men,” Pickett said.

  “But you have no proof at all, do you?” James asked, shaking his head. “Neither does Strickland.”

  “Not a bit beyond a little circumstantial,” Sarge said. “The victims were all from families the women disappear from. One victim was seen with one woman on tape right before he died.”

  “Not a damn thing that would hold up in any court,” Robin said. “I can tell you, it’s driving Will and his people nuts as well.”

  “So now what do we do?” James asked.

  Pickett sat back for a moment as silence filled the large space. Then she said simply, “We monitor. We combine forces and monitor.”

  The three looked at her like she had lost her mind.

  “We have Strickland and his people,” Pickett said, “we have Robin and Will and all their resources, Mike and all his resources, and we have your network here, James, nationally and all your resources. Right?”

  James nodded.

  “We set up searches to monitor for any known abusers suddenly dying of food poisoning. Anywhere in the country.”

  “Can we do that?” James asked, looking at Robin.

  “We can,” Robin said, nodding, clearly thinking. “But as Pickett said, we will need to combine forces. Maybe hire one or two people to work it all the time.”

  “I’ll fund it,” James said. “I feel like this has blemished all the good work we have done here in the last twenty years. I want to make up for that.”

  “You know,” Sarge said, “chances are that we only drive these people like the sisters back into hiding every time.”

  “But just as we stopped five deaths here,” James said, “every time we do that we can save lives. And after all, that’s the point of this place.”

  Pickett liked that idea a lot. Usually, as a detective, you got to a scene after someone was dead. Doing this would save lives and with James’ organization, help the victims of the abuse, on both sides, get help.

  She liked that more than she wanted to admit.

  EPILOGUE

  November 24th, 2016

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  SARGE HANDED PICKETT two large bowls of mashed potatoes to take upstairs to the table. And then handed Robin two bowls of stuffing.

  “You realize there are only five of us,” Robin said, shaking her head as she followed Pickett up the stairs.

  Sarge didn’t care that he had made enough food to feed twenty. He loved Thanksgiving and loved cooking and didn’t realize how much he missed doing it until early this morning when he got up to put in the turkey, leaving Pickett curled up under the blankets looking beautiful.

  Sarge just smiled at Robin’s comment. He had invited Strickland and James and his wife Patty as well, which Pickett and Robin didn’t know about. So it would end up eight for his first real Thanksgiving holiday with Pickett.

  Eight friends together.

  The condo smelled wonderful, with the cooking turkey and baking rolls. He had gotten a big enough turkey to make sure that he and Pickett had lots of leftovers.

  He glanced around for a moment, letting the turkey cool just a little more before starting to cut it.

  At the moment the three kittens were stretched out in the living room on the couch, ignoring all the food and talking. To them it was just another day.

  But to Sarge this day felt special. It felt like the start of something new, a new family in a way.

  Pickett was coming down the stairs when someone rang the bell.

  “Can you get that?” Sarge asked Pickett. “I need to carve up this monster.”

  “You can smell that turkey two floors down,” Mike said as Pickett opened the door. Behind him was James and Patty and Strickland.

  Pickett just laughed and gave them all a hug, then offered to take their coats.

  Robin came back downstairs, laughed, shook her head at Sarge and went to give them hugs as well.

  Sarge had felt right having them all together for the holiday. After the tour of the sanctuary and the explanation, they had spent the last few days setting up details about their new monitoring project.

  It was going to take some time to find the right people to staff it and get everything in place, but it would happen. And who knows how many lives it would save.

  Sarge had little hope that any real evidence would be found to catch and put the women away, but if they kept finding them and stopping them from killing more, that would be enough for now, until the evidence did surface.

  James had said that his people from the sanctuary had contacted in secret the five wives of the sister’s recent targets and offered them help if needed. And James’ people had set up secret monitoring in the homes to catch abuse there before it escalated into a murder.

  Granted, they had not yet caught and convicted five women serial killers. But Sarge had hopes that over the years, with the monitoring program, they just might find them with evidence enough to convict them.

  But on the original missing person case, the Chief of Police had been stunned that they had solved it and eighty-five total missing person cold cases at the same time.

  That was a record, even for the Cold Poker Gang.

  And on Tuesday night, the entire Cold Poker Gang had given the three of them a standing ovation. To Sarge, that had felt just amazing.

  But it didn’t beat how it felt right now, working to serve a Thanksgiving feast to some fantastic friends he hadn’t even known a month ago.

  And eating a wonderful holiday meal with the woman he had come to love.

  The condo felt alive, felt like a home now. He would have never imagined tha
t happening a month ago.

  At that moment Pickett came into the kitchen and kissed him on the neck. “That was a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “Now, as I carve the turkey, could you get the rolls out of the oven and into baskets and upstairs?”

  “Gladly,” Pickett said.

  “But first,” Sarge said, smiling at her, “tell me you love me before I go into battle with this monster beast.”

  “I love you,” she said, laughing. “And tomorrow, let’s go talk with the board about opening up that door between our places. It’s time we call both of these places our home, don’t you think?”

  “I like that idea more than you can know,” he said, smiling.

  She kissed him again.

  “Now, he said, “don’t let the rolls burn. We have eating to do.”

  “And drinking,” she said.

  “And then pie,” he said. “Can’t forget pie.”

  “Never,” she said, laughing. “Never forget the pie.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Considered one of the most prolific writers working in modern fiction, USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith published far more than a hundred novels in forty years, and hundreds of short stories across many genres.

  At the moment he produces novels in several major series, including the time travel Thunder Mountain novels set in the Old West, the galaxy-spanning Seeders Universe series, the urban fantasy Ghost of a Chance series, a superhero series starring Poker Boy, and a mystery series featuring the retired detectives of the Cold Poker Gang.