Veo was silent for a moment. “I really wanted you and Erik out there working this chick in heels case. And at some point you two need to do guard duty on your brother’s room.”
“I found her this morning, sir.”
He blinked. That was his standard reaction this morning it seemed. Then I realized he probably didn’t want to mar his makeup. What an ass.
“I haven’t had time to research her, but I saw her at McDonalds on Santa Monica Boulevard at six o’clock. According to a worker there this woman uses the restroom every morning to clean herself, wash her clothes, change her suit. She’s homeless and has been for several months. The worker told me that the woman lost her child to social services three weeks ago—”
“Which explains why she’s stepped up her panhandling. She’s getting desperate,” Veo said.
“Maybe she’s trying to save for an attorney or something,” Erik said.
“I think that’s possible,” I told him. “She apparently has a full time job but lives in her car.”
“The hidden homeless,” Erik muttered. “That poor little kid.”
“I got her license plate.” I passed Veo the piece of paper. “She was parking on Barrington when I last saw her just before I got here.”
“So you want me to get another patrol unit out to her,” Veo said. “And you’ll do what?”
“Well, sir, technically speaking I don’t think arresting her is the answer. She needs help. Let’s find out what she needs. Maybe we can get her into a homeless shelter to start with. If she has a child, we can find them temporary housing with one of the Good Shepherd homes maybe—”
“Always the Good Samaritan, Cavan. I want her off the streets. I’ll see what we can do. So what’s your plan?” His tone had turned sarcastic now.
“I’d like to approach Jackson’s attack from a couple of angles.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’d like to start by going to the hospital to see if Jackson can talk to me. Maybe he can give me more names. I’d also respectfully like to request that Erik and I go to see Luke Masterson. He’s never talked about the cabal before. I’ve read all his testimony. He is, as you know, in jail, awaiting trial. I’d like to play up my brother’s attack for a bit of sympathy, see if he can’t give me something to work with.”
“We should also go back to his house,” Erik said. “In daylight. Maybe there’s something we missed.”
“I have a crew there now. Fulton and Tripp. They’ve been trying to track down Masterson’s sister. No luck so far.” Veo started swinging in his chair again.
Erik and I waited.
“Okay. Start at the hospital. I’ll get you into Lancaster. They’re holding Masterson there until his trial.”
I nodded. Lancaster was actually the Los Angeles County State Prison situated in Lancaster. The city had squawked over its initial name of Lancaster Prison, feeling that it tainted the place. Publicly, it was referred to as County State Prison, or CSP LA County, but we in law enforcement mostly used Lancaster.
“After you talk to your brother, I want a report. Go see Masterson and check in with me.” He got a strange look on his face. “Ask about his sister. We can’t find her, like I mentioned, and she called in to us from a cell phone. There’s no active landline in Masterson’s house. She’s from Maine but that’s all we know.”
He took a breath. “I wouldn’t be averse to your visiting the crime scene again. You’ve given me more in fifteen minutes than Fulton and Tripp have given me in seven hours. You’re not off the hook for guard duty on Jackson though. I’ll send another unit this morning. You’ll do the afternoon.”
“Understood, sir,” Erik said.
Veo picked up a mirror on his desk and admired his visage. “She does nice work, doesn’t she?”
§ § § §
Erik and I loved not having to suit up in our uniforms, but still collected our guns and began to make our way to the parking lot. First we had to check in with Felicity to see which state-issue vehicle we’d be allowed to drive.
She was at the front desk surreptitiously sipping a gigantic Slurpee. She slipped the drink container under the check-in counter and blushed. It was adorable on her dark skin.
“Hello,” she said. “How’s your brother this morning?”
“Going to check on him now.” I paused. “Felicity…you know the wolves on the building next to you?”
“Yes…” She drew the word out warily.
“Were they still there when you left the house this morning?”
She pulled a face. “Of course they were. Did Harry say something to you?”
“About?”
She shook her head. “My kid…Ky was hysterical all night claiming the wolves all vanished. Apart from the one gray wolf, the others are all there and I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to that one being gone.”
“Ky saw the empty perches?”
She frowned. “Where you goin’ with this?”
I pulled out my cell phone and showed her the photos I’d taken. No wolves.
She stared at my cell phone. “Holy heck, he wasn’t flipping out and I upped his meds this morning!” She bit her lip. “Can you email that to me? I owe Ky an apology.” She looked distraught now.
“No problem.” I scrolled through my phone.
“How’d you know they were missing?” she asked.
“I was intrigued after you told me that one had gone missing.”
“Yeah. Like I said. There has to be a good explanation.”
I was about to email the photo when I noticed something in the corner of one of the photos I’d taken, a flash…a blur of furr. I’d seen Ludo shapeshift before but this worried me because I hadn’t seen it when I’d taken the photo. It was Ludo’s wolf…blood dripping from his muzzle, running from the building.
“You reading your emails?” Felicity teased.
“No, just looking at the photo. Pretty spooky.” I emailed her the photo I’d shown her. What the heck was the gallery in Venice? Some kind of wolf headquarters? And whose blood was on Ludo’s muzzle?
Felicity gave us a black Crown Victoria. “It’s got AC, heat…the works,” she said. She was already scrolling through her cell phone for messages when we walked outside.
“What’s up?” Erik asked. “You look totally stressed out.”
I went with a safe, “Didn’t get much sleep,” and let him take the wheel. We headed over to Cedars-Sinai.
“What was all that about wolves just now? You and Felicity ware talking about them.”
“The wolves on the gallery building next door to Harry’s house disappeared then reappeared.”
He looked bored by my response. “Oh…gotta be some wacky kind of art installation,” he said.
In the middle of the night? I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t going to linger on the subject. When we reached the hospital’s parking lot we argued over who’d pay the hefty twenty-dollar parking fee.
“We’ll get it back on expenses. I’ll pony up,” I finally said, pocketing the ticket. I called my mother, who picked up the house phone.
“Where’s Ludo?” she asked, sounding cranky. “And what the hell are all those stone wolves outside? The neighbors keep calling me about them.”
“No idea,” I said. Ludo must have sent them to protect her. I was certain of that. I asked her if my sister had arrived.
“Not yet. I want my Ludo.” She hung up on me.
Get in line, Mom.
In the hospital, the news wasn’t good. My brother was hanging in there, drifting in and out of consciousness. The nurses let me visit him and I sat beside his bed for a while, watching him breathe, swaddled in bandages, tubes going in and out of both arms. He awoke at one point and I was certain he saw me.
“Jackson?” I leaned closer to him. He closed his eyes. I was certain he’d radiated hatred toward me, then chastised myself. The man had to be in excruciating pain even though they were drip-feeding him morphine and God knew what else. A doctor came into the room
. He began to list my brother’s grievous injuries. Jackson stirred.
“Cavan?” his voice rasped. I put a hand on his arm since his hands were filled with tubes and tapes.
“I’m here,” I said. “Can you tell me who did this to you?”
His eyes flew open. The rage was there. It hadn’t been a mistake.
“Fuck yoooooouuuu!” he screamed.
The doctor stared at me. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. It’s the drugs.”
I nodded, but I knew. Jackson was the boogeyman of my childhood dreams. It must have been hard for him to have me see him this way. Weak. He was incredibly strong, but in his warped mind, being laid up would be a sign of weakness.
“Go fuck yourself,” Jackson added for good emphasis.
His heart monitor started going wonky. “I think maybe you should—” the doctor began, but I held up a hand.
“Just leaving.” I walked out to find my partner arguing with the two cops on the door.
“You okay?” he asked me, anxiety etched into his features.
I nodded.
“Man, I heard him screaming and didn’t know what the fuck was going on.”
“Not the most pleasant family reunion.” I tried for a smile but I had so many bad feelings, I couldn’t sort one from the other.
Suddenly, people were running. Nurses, orderlies, another doctor. All the cops around me stood back. The hospital staff crashed into Jackson’s room.
Erik took my hand and squeezed. He knew, just as I knew…before the doctors came out and told me my brother was gone.
“A merciful release,” one of them said. I nodded. For him. And for my family.
§ § § §
Outside the hospital, I found myself surprisingly emotional. I’d always wanted a big brother. I’d fantasized about having the perfect brother, who’d take me to ball games, give me tips on dating, and whine about me borrowing his car. In my heart of hearts, I’d sort of hoped Jackson would come back home and be all those things, even though my logical self knew it was a wish. A pure and simple wish. Now it would never happen. My mom, when I called to give her the news, shed some tears.
“I’ve felt so guilty all these years,” she told me. I knew she had and I hastened to remind her that none of it was her fault.
“Your parents made you give him up for adoption and you had no control over how he turned out.”
“Is there anyone we should call, apart from a mortician?” she asked.
“Not that I know of. I’ll be in touch.” I wondered about my brother’s business and if we should hit that next. When I called Veo, he was more upset about his press conference than anything else.
“If he’s dead, there’s no point, is there?” he sounded so disappointed.
“I don’t know, sir, that’s up to you. I have a question. Have Fulton and Tripp looked into my brother’s security company?”
“No. We can’t find anything. Nothing listed in his name. We even tried this Fuerte you mentioned. They’re on their way back here. We’ve got the fingerprint analysis on the Porsche and none of the prints are on record. We’ve sorta hit a dead end. Find me something, Carmichael.”
He hung up on me.
I scrolled through my phone and looked for messages. I’d missed a call. Dammit. I’d turned my cell phone off in Jackson’s room and had no idea who’d tried to reach me. I didn’t think it was Ludo. Mom would have told me.
“Where to now?” Erik asked.
“Lancaster.”
“You drive,” he said. “I’m gonna catch a nap.”
I agreed. I wouldn’t have minded a nap myself. But then I thought of something. In the parking lot, I went through the numbers I had found online the previous night for my ex-lover, Vince. The first number I dialed was his.
Who was more surprised that I’d reached out? Me or Vince? Perhaps I’ll never know.
“Cavan,” he said, sounding stunned. “What a…surprise.”
“Cut the shit, Vince. I know you’ve been following me. Listen…my brother just died.”
“What brother?”
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed, startling Erik, who jumped in the seat beside me. He was fiddling around with the GPS system for me.
“Jackson,” I said. “I know you put him up to hiding tracers on my car.”
“Wait—he’s your brother? I didn’t even know you had one.”
I couldn’t remember if I’d ever told Vince about Jackson. Probably not. But still…I found it entirely too coincidental that he and Jackson had been working together.
“How did he die?” Vince asked me. Suddenly, he sounded nervous.
“You haven’t been watching the news?” I was incredulous.
“No. Look, the stakes are high, Cavan. You have no idea who you’re fuckin’ with.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“The cabal…they’re brutal.”
“Tell me about it. If you really have no idea what they did to my brother, then you’re in for a shock. Unless you want me to haul you in as an accessory to murder you better start bumping your gums.”
“We teamed up. I hate to disillusion you but I’m not following you because I have an unrequited love…we’re all after Ludo. There’s a bounty on him.”
“On Ludo?”
“Six million dollars.” He let that sink in for a moment.
Was he kidding me? “Six million dollars?” I repeated.
“Thanks to him, the six wolves have been activated and he’s the key. He alone fetches four mill, the others bring in two. So yeah, sweet cheeks, you can bet I’m gonna be watching your ass.”
“What do you mean six wolves? What key?” I asked.
“We know he’s a were. They all are. Damn. They killed Jackson? They promised him immortality if he brought them Ludo alive and unharmed.”
Thank God he never managed it.
“Where is he, Cavan? It’s gonna go a lot easier and a lot less painfully for you if you tell me. I’ll even split the bounty with you.”
“Have a nice day,” I said and ended the call.
“Drive,” Erik said, his head against the rest. “What was all that about?”
“My ex-lover…he’s insane. He says there’s a bounty out on Ludo.”
“A bounty?”
“Can you believe it?”
Erik lifted his head and gazed at me from exhausted eyes. “Why? Because he fought the wolves and won or something?”
I couldn’t even begin to explain things to him. I wondered how many wolves were at my house. I couldn’t call my mom and ask with Erik right beside me. He seemed to be asleep, judging by his horrible snoring all the way to Lancaster. Located fifty miles northeast of LA we made the drive in thirty minutes. He didn’t let up even as I parked in the visitors’ lot after showing my badge to the gate guard of the imposing-looking structure. I’m a cop and I always get nervous going into a prison. Beyond the ominous-looking fences and watch tower, the prison itself was a low-lying, beige cinderblock building that didn’t look so scary up close.
Lancaster housed over four thousand prisoners, double its intended capacity. It is famous for its overcrowding and two notorious inmates: Black Supremacist “Brotherhood” cult member Robert Rozier and former rap singer Big Lurch.
Rozier, who murdered six white people, was actually imprisoned for passing bad checks under California’s three-strikes law. Big Lurch murdered a female friend, then ate part of her lung during a PCP frenzy in 2002.
Lancaster had also housed Robert John Bardo, who murdered actress Rebecca Schaeffer in 1989, but he’s since been moved to Ironwood State Prison up in Blythe.
And now…Lancaster had the crazy and sadistic Luke Masterson as its long-term guest. I gripped the wheel as I turned off the ignition. I had to be careful how I questioned Masterson in front of my partner. Erik didn’t know—nobody knew except me—that Masterson had paid for Ludo to be his sex slave but really had bought him in the hopes of getting Ludo to “turn” him into a
werewolf.
A monster movie fan, Masterson had a special passion for weres. Not only had he brutally tortured and almost killed the man I love, but I knew Masterson had no remorse at all. None.
Erik was still snoring, so I got out of the car, gently closed my door and called my mother who answered the phone on the second ring.
“Ludo was here. He said to say he’s okay, but he looks awful. He said he’s left three guardians here. That the…cabal…can’t do anything to them when they’re made of stone. He said three were going with him. What’s happening, Cavan? What does it all mean?”
“There are three stone wolves outside?” I asked her.
For a moment I heard nothing. “Yes.” Her voice shook. “I just want him to come home, Cavan.”
I was so grateful he’d been to the house I couldn’t say anything for a moment.
“Yeah, Ma. So do I.”
“He’s worried about you. He said he’ll be back later but he has to find the key.”
This damned key thing again.
“Okay. I’ll be in touch.” As I ended the call, Erik got out of the car.
“What’s going on?” He seemed fractious.
“Just calling my mom to check on her. She’s a little upset about my brother.”
“Has she heard from Ludo?”
“Yeah.” I frowned. I couldn’t keep my head straight about what I’d told Erik and what I hadn’t. “Yeah, she did.”
“And he’s okay?”
I nodded.
He closed his door and walked toward my side of the car.
“Did you have a good sleep?” I asked.
“I didn’t sleep. Just rested my eyes.”
“Dude. You were sleeping. I heard you snoring!”
“I don’t snore.”
“Yes, you do.”
He arched a brow at me. “How much did my wife pay you to say that?”
“Nothing. I’m telling you. It’s bad.”
“Freight train bad?”
“Eight freight trains and a foghorn on backup.”
“Fuck. My wife…she said I snore.”
“You do.”
We walked to the building, went through the security rigmarole, and I know we both felt qualms about entering the interview room with no gun, no cell phone, nothing.
Savage Page 7
