“Right. And you know better. You’re talking to me on my landline.”
“I need you to keep talking me through what I’m looking at. Pour yourself a drink and sit down.”
“I’m on my second one.”
“Then sip it. I need you alert. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m in the garage and I need your help. What am I looking for?”
“I don’t know. You tell me!”
“You just said that there was some sort of an intended tunnel with access through this garage. I need to know where that access is, or was. Or might be. I don’t see anything.”
“Ummm. The far side. Go to the far west side.”
Manning called out to me.
“I’m just looking around the garage. Gloves on, Chief,” I yelled back.
“Silva isn’t at her home, but her car is.”
Shit! Jaxon heard that!
“I’m coming over.”
“No. Absolutely not. They’ll detain you at the door. I need you now more than ever. I’m at the back wall. I see a row of steel shelving. One unit has hand tools. Wires. Light bulbs. The next one is full of gardening supplies. Next one has a bunch of paint cans on it.”
Silence.
“Jaxon?”
“Damn, it’s been a long time. But the paint cans. Are they mostly empty?”
I picked up a few. “Yes.”
“That’s it. The shelving unit is light. It’s affixed to some sort of bracket. You can move it ajar from the side.
“Got it! We’re getting there!”
“Wait. When you pull it open it was being designed to trigger a light throughout the tunnel.”
Too late.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
THE LIGHTING THROUGHOUT the tunnel appeared to be mercury vapor. In other words, it starts with a cool blue glow, and then grows lighter. Like some street lights. The lighting also makes a buzzing noise. I immediately found the wall switch and they went dark.
“Jaxon, I’m running out of battery. I can’t talk, anyway. I probably won’t have any reception. I need you to disconnect and call 911. Tell them that I am at the scene with Chief Manning, and I need backup. Describe the garage and the tunnel.”
He hung up. God, I had to hope he wasn’t jumping in to his car.
Shoving my cell phone, almost depleted of power, into my pocket, I reached for both my Glock and a flashlight. I’d take it real slow on the flashlight.
I noted black tracks on the concrete floor. Yes. That fancy of a tunnel. Sure enough, they were either from a golf cart, or maybe a small ATV.
The musty air held no scent of any lingering gasoline fumes. Could be electric carts. I shined my flashlight to the ceiling. Impressive. A ventilating system. Whomever built this tunnel should team up with the illegals across the border. The Ritz Carlton approach to tunnels. I caught myself in a nervous pre-giggle, wondering why artwork didn’t adorn the walls.
Interesting to me, I could surmise that it was a straight shot back to the outbuilding. This tunnel had more twists and turns than Space Mountain. The old man must have had a sense of humor, milking his cheating excavator for every cent he owed him, with hard and ridiculous labor.
The curvatures in the path suited me well. I had ample corners for covers and safe use of the flashlight. I could stop and listen.
Silence. Maybe I was wrong.
Then the hairs stood up on the back of my neck the way they do. While not wholly audible, I could feel the whimpers.
And the evil.
THERE WAS NO GOING back. I could only hope that Jaxon had made the call, or in any case Manning would come looking for my wayward soul, or send his guys to find out what trouble I was causing. If they were to catch up to me they would have to run.
I heard nothing but silence, but I could feel more cries for help. Mind you, I did not hear them.
I snaked my way further into the tunnel, having lost all perspective as to how far I had walked and how far it would be until I reached the outbuilding.
I neared something. The end of the tunnel? Seriously?
No. It was another door. I didn’t feel secure using my flashlight so I groped my way toward the frame and the glint of light coming from beneath it.
Solid. Massive. Locked. I needed to know how it was secured so I turned on my flashlight for an instant. I could pick it. Quickly and quietly. I pulled out my tools as I held my flashlight in my mouth. And there it was. Checkmarks on the wall. Twelve of them. With a happy face for each. All written in crayon.
Twelve? Did we have more missing women?
The lock clicked open without much as a whispering creak. Good. My flashlight was off as I could see the room illuminated. So brilliant I was blinded.
JESSICA SILVA SAT tied up, with both ropes and duct tape, to a large steel pole. She saw me, her bulbous eyes flashing full terror. Her long black hair was a literal rat’s nest. Someone had made it so.
I motioned with fingers for her to be quiet. Her brilliant bright eyes engorged so that all I saw were the whites.
My own eyes still needed time to adjust to the blazing influx of light. And I knew it was a light that would not be seen on the outside of the structure because there were no windows.
My cell phone rang. Crap. I didn’t turn it off, after all.
“Don’t turn that phone off. Put the caller on speaker, I know it’s my husband,” the familiar voice rang out from somewhere above me.
I did as Sandra Vickery instructed.
“I’m here. I’m in the tunnel. Help is on the way, but I need to talk to Sandy.”
“Sondra,” she yelled out.
“There’s an army coming for you, San--Sondra. You and I both know there’s no way out. I’m here and I’m coming in. You can shoot me, if you want. No one else needs your wrath. I’m the cause of your hurt.”
“As always, your timing is lousy, Jaxon. You either come to early or too bloody late. Let’s chat, if that’s what you want. I have two of your pretties, and all the pretty ones will fall.”
“Don’t do anything until…”
My phone went dead.
I saw the gun trained on me.
“Move over to the corner, Ms. Clark. Sit down and toss me that toy gun.”
“You forget I’m aiming for your heart,” I said.
I could see her slip down a short staircase and scurry behind Jessica Silva. She aimed her gun at Jessica’s temple. “Good point. Thanks for the tip. Now slowly go to the corner and make room for Jaxon. I’ve been dying to see him.”
Moving to the dark corner, I kept my gun on target, in spite of Jessica’s tied-up body being used as a shield. I sat down. “I’m a pretty good marksman. Think I’ll just keep my toy.”
Jaxon rushed into the large warehouse space. He thrust his arms into the air, “No weapons.”
“You were always such a wimp, Jaxon. That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Jaxon froze. His stance, tall. “What happened to you, Sandy?”
“This is not about me. It never has been. There were some obstacles in the course of us being together again. That’s all. I’ve let you and your lurid affair with this dingbat reporter go on far too long. One final obstacle. We will be together, Jaxon.”
“There is no us. There never will be. There is no affair because there is no us. We are divorced. We had a good run but it didn’t work. Don’t you get it? Did you kill those women?”
“I removed my competition.”
“Jesus! I barely knew most of them.”
“It doesn’t matter. They were all going to go after you.”
“You’re so bloody messed up. Sick in the head! I was a fool for ever marrying you. You are out of my life!”
“You can’t mean that, Jaxon.”
“Do you want to know what I really think? “I would call you a cunt but you don’t have the depth or the warmth.”
Vickery jumped up. Her heart, unprotected, left her vulnerable and I knew I could take the sh
ot. Except for the gun aimed at Jessica Silva.
Calculating, for only a few seconds, Vickery reached up and flipped a panel of switches behind her.
We were left in a total black abyss until the gunshot flared. A big flash from the direction of Vickery. It was Jaxon that screamed out in pain.
I had underestimated her. She knew all of her targets. I didn’t think she’d take a shot at the love of her life. I could see nothing. There was no depth. No more flickers of light. No glow. Only the flash from the firing of her gun.
I heard a clunk from another position in the vast room. I heard the odd splashing sound, a women’s voice screaming in pain, and another quick gun shot.
Silence, but if stench has a voice, it came with an ear-piercing shriek.
I hollered, “Jaxon, are you okay?”
“My shoulder. I’ll be fine”.
“Jessica?”
The muffled moans were a good sign.
“What the hell just happened?” Jaxon yelled.
Grabbing my flashlight, with my hand still firmly on my gun, I started scouring the room just as Chief Manning and a backup of armed bodies approached the scene from the tunnel.
I pointed my flashlight toward Manning and the wall behind him.
“Hit that row of switches,” I yelled.
He flipped on four switches and the scene became illuminated.
In the light, we saw the absolute darkness of the scene.
Chapter Sixty
JAXON GILES TRIED TO bring himself to a stand. Immediately officers calmed him down and held him down until paramedics could arrive.
With another officer, I ran over to Jessica and we began cutting her loose, starting with removing the loosened duct tape across her mouth. She spoke nothing. Her eyes glazed over. She fell into a state of shock as her limp body caved into my arms.
I yelled out to Jaxon that she was okay. I hoped she was. I placed my jacket over her shoulders as her body tried to shake out the pure and cold moments of wickedness she must have endured. She was sitting in her own excrements. That was the least concern.
Only then did I become fully aware of the toxic fumes spewing from an enormous plastic vat in the far corner of the massive room.
“Get everyone out of here,” Manning yelled. “Get Hazmat here, now!”
I took one last look around the room and I saw the multitude of emptied plastic gallon jugs of muriatic acid. How could I be so stupid? Of course! That bitch! Easy pickings for her. Dissolve a body, gold fillings and all, in one big vat. Without a trace left.
Then I spotted the golf cart. “Load Giles and Silva in the cart! They go out first.”
THE NURSE PUSHED JAXON’S wheelchair next to Jessica’s hospital bed as I tailed behind.
“She’s gone through a lot of trauma. She’s highly sedated,” the nurse told us.
Jaxon smiled and said, “Thank you. I’ll stay right here tonight.”
I divulged a little bit of information. I told Jaxon that apparently Vickery had tested Jessica. Sampled Jessica’s pain, or maybe her own insanity. She had scalded Jessica’s fingers in the muriatic acid. She would have no trace of fingerprints left, and extensive damage to the tissues.
“So she can go commit some crimes,” he tried to joke.
“Indeed. Except I’m on your team.”
“I need you to go to my house. My maid will let you in. In my study, top left drawer. There’s a bag in there. I need you to bring it to me.”
“A bag?”
“From Falls & Falls.”
“The jewelers to the stars. I got it. You have it. I’ll bring it back yet tonight.”
“And she’s a big one, now, but our dog, Lizzie has a service dog coat hanging by the backdoor. Put it on her and walk her in.”
“No one well mess with me. A bag and a dog, coming your way.”
WITHIN DAYS, AND WHAT would still require a month of hard work, forensic teams sifted through the mishmash of years of hoarding at the Vickery home, documenting every item.
The teams found more trophies from the victims, including items from my murdered detective helper. A wedding ring. Of note, they found traces of Michael Scores.
I provided Jaxon Giles our latest information. A ledger of cash withdrawals from Vickery coincided directly with the sudden luxury buying sprees of Scores. They started one month before Karl Marks was killed.
“Don’t tell me. Not enough to prove anything,” he said.
“Not yet,” I said, “but it is becoming crystal clear to me that Vickery was playing Michael Scores like a stacked deck of used cards from one of our casinos.”
“Why him?” Giles asked me.”
“I still don’t know what role Scores played in all of this. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive but I do know when he went to Punta Cana he pulled out $9,999.00, just under the ten-thousand dollar limit to take abroad without raising an IRS red flag.
“I don’t know why he left my friend in the Dominican Republic. If he wanted to make a deposit he could have just ran into a bank under the pretense of exchanging dollars for the Dominican pesos.”
“Why wouldn’t he just go to the Cayman Islands.”
“Good question. I remember when I first visted Grand Cayman I naïvely expected the town streets to be lined with banks. Of course, the money is all on paper, and these days, in the cloud. Given our FBI some due credit, they have the intelligence to access the money trails. It’s way too much on the radar.”
“One more question. Do I have reason to be worried about Scores?” His voice cracked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Is that your instinct talking?”
I laughed. “Now that’s an extra question, but the answer is it’s one-hundred percent my instincts, plus a brain. Scores has no regard for anything he does or doesn’t do. Now that his source of income has dissolved, literally, he won’t be back. He simply doesn’t care.”
THE FAMILIES WOULD find some peace, as raw as it would be presented to them. They had their loved ones’ items returned to them, but there would be no bodies. They could not properly say goodbye. There would be no internments.
The whacky sweet girl at the interior design shop, Mandy, attended every memorial service.
Vickery was gone. Of her own demise, Shame on her. She had climbed onto a platform, shot herself, and fell into her own liquid death. Some said there was no justice. Mostly, I thought there would be no lengthy and painful trials with Vickery’s money buying legal mumbo-jumbo and standing behind her.
Still, I wondered, did she manage it alone? Two taser guns were found at her home, along with chloroform. In combination a victim would surely be subdued, quickly, but did she have the strength to lift the bodies into her van?
Maybe. Just maybe Scores was paid handsomely for his muscles
Chapter Sixty-One
THE MONSOON SEASON had joyfully engulfed Tucson. Always a time of celebration in the desert, you could almost smell the ocean. You could almost even taste the salt. The downpours of rain could be so warm you could dance naked outside, if so inclined. I was always so inclined.
With a break in the storm, my new gorgeous friend, Marcos, led the way in to Hacienda del Sol, a favorite boutique resort and a truly hidden desert gem. Instead of leading me toward the restaurant he took my hand and dangled the key to one of their casitas.
“This is very thoughtful, but I can’t spend the night. Finnegan and Phoebe would piss and poop all over my house. “
“And just be miserable without you,” he said.
‘Well, yes.”
“Just like I am miserable without you.”
“So you understand?”
“I understand that whether you realize it or not, we are officially dating. It’s clearly been a long time for both of us so there will be some awkward moments and maybe some strange parameters. But we have developed trust. You gave me one helluva a story with Vickery, and I was proud to be there to keep you strong. Now, through all of this, where are your
psychic abilities? if you think for one moment that you don’t have both of your so-called pupcakes waiting for you inside this room, then you need to get to know me better before you ravish my body.”
“It’s my mantra. Sometimes I do my best thinking when I’m not thinking.” And I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. I was so ready to share my entirety with this man. With Finnegan and Phoebe watching.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON THE families of the victims gathered for one last time at Jaxon Giles’ country club. Marcos joined me, sneaking Finnegan and Phoebe in with my big hobo bag.
Giles reserved the main dining room, but he had asked for the removal of all of the starched white linens on the tables. He had them replaced them with a full spectrum of rainbow colors. Yellow. Blue. Pink. Green. Purple. Orange. The colorful napkins matched that rainbow. He paid the bill for the lunch, which offered anything from hamburgers, vegan dishes, steaks and chicken.
It was my place, I suppose, to recognize both Chief David Manning and our illustrious mayor for their attendance.
“Gentlemen. Good to see you both.”
“Ms. Clark,” the mayor said, “I want to personally commend the outside efforts you gave our department.”
“There’s no need for that. Just, next time trust your Chief of Police Manning, and trust me. Call me a sensitive, or just sensitive, but I don’t like being laid off the job. And for the record, I don’t love the way you suck up to the FBI. It’s a funny chain of command. They grandstand. They solved the case of the missing Congresswoman Strong. And Mr. Mayor, I heard and read some of your comments. You are on the grandstand, as well. It seems it was all you and your special task forces that solved all of these cases, all without you giving a damn about these families.
“If you allow Chief Manning to hire me again, I will want a contract.”
“Duly noted. I would like to hire you full time.”
“Not a fucking chance.”
“Are you always so blunt?”
Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1) Page 23
