Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

  ***

  She got the address for the factory from Mr. Kim’s secretary. That seemed like the best place to start. If the kid really wanted to disappear, some huge old factory would be the perfect place to go where no one would look for her. On her way there, she called Captain Kramer so he could have someone run a check on this supposed cousin of Renee Kim.

  The answer wasn’t unexpected: Renee didn’t have a cousin in the army, by marriage or otherwise. At least none that anyone could turn up without some intense genealogical research. Like Aggie, she suspected the cousin was really some smooth talker Renee had met on the Internet, someone who wanted to get into her pants. There were plenty of perverts like that out there who preyed on naïve young girls. She had given talks about that to some schools around the district, but kids Aggie’s age or especially Renee’s age didn’t take that seriously.

  When she pulled up to the factory gates, she didn’t expect to see Renee Kim walking down the sidewalk, a box in her arms. But there was no way to mistake the turquoise pigtails. She drove along the road, and passed by Renee. The kid stared back at her and even gave a little wave. She parked around the corner so she wouldn’t scare Renee off.

  Before she got out of the car, she reached into the glove box for her pistol. She didn’t carry it on her anymore; she didn’t usually have much use for it. She hadn’t fired it since that night on the docks, the night Charlotte had died. She doubted she would need it now, but it never hurt to be prepared for all contingencies.

  Her second surprise was to find Renee in the exact spot where she had been, the box beside her now. Renee put up her hands and flashed the same crooked smile as on the picture her father had given to her. “I surrender,” she said.

  “You think this is funny? Your father is very worried about you.”

  “Daddy worries if I sneeze.”

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Drugs.”

  “Being a smart-ass isn’t going to help you. You’re in big trouble.”

  “You going to arrest me?”

  “I might if you keep it up. Now, what are you doing here?”

  “Daddy and I had a fight, so I came here.”

  “And you told Aggie to lie for you?”

  “Yes.” Renee’s eyes widened a bit. “You’re her sister, aren’t you? I thought you looked familiar. Is Aggie going to get in trouble?”

  “Mom will probably ground her for a couple of weeks for covering for you.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her to lie for me. She’s no good at it.”

  “Not like you, right?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re too smart for your own good.” She bent down to pick up the box Renee had been carrying, which was far heavier than she would have thought for a girl that size. Inside she found cans of red paint. “You planning to do some vandalism?”

  “No. I was just going to spruce up the place.”

  “By painting it red?”

  “I used to have hair that exact same color. Though I like yours better. What is that, Russet Glow?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Is anyone in there with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Snuggles.”

  “Who’s that? Your teddy bear?”

  “My kitty. He lives here. You want to see him?”

  “What about your cousin?”

  “Who?”

  “Black guy with a beard. Aggie said you were hanging out with him. You said he was your cousin Tim.”

  “Oh, him. He was a homeless guy who wandered into the subdivision. I gave him Granddaddy’s uniform and some food and stuff. I figured Aggie would freak if I told her.” The way Renee said this was so smooth that she wanted to believe the little girl’s story.

  “He’s not in there with you and Mr. Snuggles?”

  “He might be. It’s a pretty big place. I just keep to my fort.”

  “Your fort?”

  “I made it out of sheets and pillows I brought from home. It’s really neat. You want to see it?”

  “No, thanks. What I want is for you to come back with me to your father’s office. Is there anything you need from in there?”

  “No.” Her adult poise melted away as she said, “Daddy’s really mad, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Is Aggie mad?”

  “I think she’ll be more relieved when I call her later. She thought maybe you’d been raped and hacked to pieces by some creep.”

  Renee began to cry and again it seemed so real that she wanted to believe the kid. “I’ve made such a mess of it.” She reached into her pocket for her cell phone. “Would you mind if I call Daddy?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Renee pressed a few buttons and then said, “Hi Daddy, it’s me. I’m sorry. No, I’m with her now. She’s going to bring me to the office. OK. I’ll see you in a few minutes. I’m s—” She flipped the phone shut. “He hung up on me. I’m really in for it now.”

  She patted the little girl’s back and tried to smile comfortingly. “It won’t be that bad. Trust me. When I was your age my mom wanted to kill me all the time.”

  They went back to the car, the cans of red paint left on the sidewalk. Some other punk would probably use them later to smear more graffiti on the walls somewhere. That wasn’t any of her business. She had cracked the case. She reached into her jacket for her phone to tell Captain Kramer the good news.

  ***

  It didn’t surprise her that Renee Kim’s father didn’t welcome her with open arms. When she brought the girl into the office, Mr. Kim came around his desk and immediately began to shout at her in what was probably Korean. Renee shouted back at him in the same language.

  She decided to leave a message with the secretary to ask Mr. Kim to go to the station later and fill out the necessary paperwork about the case. She would have some paperwork to fill out as well, but she decided instead to call home. No one answered the phone, which didn’t sit right with her. Mom was still at work and Sophie usually hung around the library to study, but with Renee in trouble, Agnes should be at home. She imagined the poor kid on her bed, crying. I ought to go check on her, she thought. But she was already on her way to her destination. She could talk to Agnes about it later, after she cooled down a little.

  While she wanted to believe Renee, something struck her as wrong about the whole thing, especially the thing with the cousin. A girl as smart as Renee wouldn’t be so stupid as to give her grandfather’s army uniform away for some homeless guy to dirty up. There was also the way Renee had surrendered so readily; she hadn’t even wanted to go back for her kitty or anything else, as if she wanted to make sure no one peeked inside that old factory.

  The good thing about the rundown factories by the waterfront was there were plenty of places to hide. It was easy enough for her to find another abandoned factory across the street and perch in a second floor window with the scope of her sniper rifle. She couldn’t see anyone inside, but the factory was big enough that someone could easily hide in there. She kept the scope trained on the loading dock and waited for someone to go in or out.

  If no one came, then she’d have wasted an evening. Wouldn’t be the first time. She’d spent months in a crummy bar to eye Harry Ward, a dockworker who had helped kill Charlotte. She knew she couldn’t do anything; she just wanted him to know that someone remembered, that he hadn’t gotten away clean. Then Harry turned up dead in the street with a knife sticking out of his chest. As glad as she felt about this, she was also disappointed she didn’t get to take him down. More importantly, she hadn’t gotten the chance to break him and get him to roll on the others. That might have allowed her to finally go after Erik the Red, the one who had really killed Charlotte.

  Her phone rang at nine o’clock. Mom had probably been out late to drink—“making contacts” was her euphemism for it. Mom’s words sounded a little slurred as she asked, “What is all this about you interrogatin
g Agnes at school?”

  “Her friend went missing and they gave me the case. So I had to go down and talk to Agnes about it in case she knew something.”

  “Did she?”

  “Not really. Her friend ran away. Agnes didn’t know about it. Anyway, it’s all right now. I found the girl. She’s back safe with her father.”

  “Well, good, I’m glad that’s over. Sophie, has your sister unlocked her door yet? Well go check on her. No, I’m not going to hit her.” There was a moment of silence before Mom came back on the line and said, “Sophie says that Agnes covered for her friend.”

  She shook her head. As much as she loved her sister, Sophie could be such a stuck-up little brat. She’d been like that ever since she was born and she’d probably always be that way. “Her friend put her up to it. She didn’t know what was happening. I think the poor kid has put herself through enough already.”

  “Maybe you should come over and talk to her. She won’t open the door to talk to Sophie or me. She looks up to you.”

  “I can’t, Mom. I’m on a case right now.”

  “You’re always on a case. We hardly ever see you anymore.”

  “I’m a cop, Mom.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I just wish you could come around more. Things are so hectic around here anymore since your father died.”

  “Look, Mom—” she stopped as she saw the loading dock doors open. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right? Love you.” She hung up before her mom could say anything.

  She pressed her eye to the scope of her rifle, so she could make out a man. It was too dark to get much detail, so she switched to the night vision on the scope. That allowed her to see a bearded man; even though the scope made everything green, she could tell his skin was dark. That didn’t mean it was him, but if it wasn’t then it was a hell of a coincidence.

  She left the rifle behind as she hurried down the stairs. She waited in the doorway as the man turned right out of the factory gates. She waited a few moments before she followed after him. While she wanted to get a look inside the factory, first she wanted to know who the man was meeting so she could get an idea of what sort of business he might be up to—and what sort of business Renee might have gotten involved in.

  She imagined Aggie’s fears hadn’t been too far off the mark. Renee probably had met someone online. Instead of trying to get in her pants, he enlisted her help with whatever business he did for Erik the Red or some other shady character. Guns, drugs, or maybe some other illegal goods; the old factory made a great spot to hide it. Not to mention that Renee through her father had some pretty high connections all the way into city hall.

  The man walked on with his hands stuffed in his pockets and head down. She remained far behind and wished she’d brought a hat so she could hide her hair. She had always been proud of her red hair, but at times like this it was a liability; it would be much easier to blend in with brown hair like Sophie or Agnes. Well, she would just have to hope the man didn’t look back and get a good look at her.

  She followed him for three blocks, through mostly empty streets. The only people in this part of town at night were those who were up to no good or the vagrants who didn’t have anywhere else to go. A young woman like her was a target out here at this time of night for any of these ne’er-do-wells. She wished she had remembered her pistol, but she knew more than enough about self-defense to take care of herself. She kept her head up and reminded herself the most important thing was to be vigilant.

  The man walked into a bar, the kind of dive used by lowlife criminals. She waited at the door for a full minute, not to seem too eager. At the count of sixty, she finally opened the door and stepped into the smoky atmosphere of the dive.

  It was even worse than she imagined, with just a row of torn vinyl booths, a lopsided pool table, and the bar itself. She counted four people besides herself and the bartender, all of them on stools at the bar. The man she’d followed sat at one end of the bar; he was the only one who didn’t look up at her as she came in. The others gaped at her as if they’d never seen a woman before, which she supposed they probably hadn’t, at least not a real one.

  The bartender put a hand to his chest as if he were about to have a heart attack. “Something I can get for you, ma’am?”

  “I’ll just have a beer. Whatever you got on tap.”

  As soon as she spoke, the man at the end of the bar looked up. His brown eyes focused on her; they went so wide she thought they might pop out of his head. His skin turned deathly pale and the hand holding his mug of beer shook. Shit, she thought to herself. He probably recognized her as a cop.

  Well, she might still be able to salvage something from this. She took her mug of beer and paid the bartender. Then she took a stool next to the man, who had gone back to staring down at the counter. She took a sip from her mug and tried not to make a face at the warmness and bitterness of the beer; she instead forced a smile to her face. “This is a nice place,” she said. “Really cozy.”

  She reached back to take the scunci out of her hair and then shook it out. Though the man pretended not to watch, she could see he checked her out from the corner of his eye. She took another sip of the awful beer and then turned to the man. “Could you pass me the peanuts down at the end?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. He reached over to take the bowl of peanuts and handed it to her without a glance.

  It took a lot of effort to pop some of the ancient peanuts into her mouth without gagging. “You look like you lost your best friend,” she said to the man. “Come here to drown your troubles?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I needed a change of scenery. My boyfriend broke up with me last week and everywhere in my neighborhood reminded me of him. So I thought I’d go somewhere else.”

  He finally looked up at her, no doubt because he realized she was now in play. “I’m sorry about your boyfriend.”

  “Thanks, but really in a way I’m glad it happened. It was never going to work out between us anyway. He was always so busy with his job and I was always so busy with my job. We hardly had time to see each other anymore.”

  He nodded along with this. “If you don’t mind my saying, your boyfriend is an idiot to let you out of his sight.”

  “That’s very sweet.”

  “I had a girl like you once. She was so beautiful and kind.” He shook his head and then drained his mug before he signaled for another one. “I took her for granted too. There’d be days where we didn’t even see each other because we were both so busy.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is that why you’re here?”

  “Sort of. A friend of mine got in some legal trouble. It’s my fault.”

  “That’s awful. What happened? If you don’t mind talking about it, that is.”

  “I don’t mind. I let her help me with a project I’m working on. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I needed her help. Her father reported her missing and now he’ll probably send her to military school. It’s my fault. I was supposed to be the adult; I should have told her no.”

  She wondered what sort of project the man worked on—and for whom did he work? “How old was this friend of yours?”

  “Eleven, but she tries to act like she’s forty-five.” He smiled slightly at her. “She’s such a bossy little thing. No fear at all. It’s amazing.”

  “I was like that at her age. Wanting to grow up so fast.”

  “I guess we all were to some extent.”

  She finished the last of her beer and then signaled for the bartender to come over. “Bring me something harder. You got any tequila?”

  “Um, I might. Let me see.” The bartender clinked through a bunch of bottles until he finally held up a bottle of Jose Cuervo that was half full. “Here we go.”

  He poured her a shot glass and she signaled for him to leave the bottle. “I don’t suppose you have any limes and salt?”

  “Salt m
aybe, no limes.”

  “Oh well.” She turned to her quarry and smiled at him. “Bottoms up.” The tequila burned down her throat, into her stomach. She shook her head and let out a sigh. “That is good stuff.”

  “Could I get some of that?” the man asked.

  “Be my guest.” She had the bartender bring another shot glass over and then poured them each a shot. “To lost friends.”

  “Lost friends,” he said. He touched his glass to hers before he downed his tequila. He slapped the bar with the palm of his hand. “Whew. I haven’t had anything that strong in a while.”

  “You been on the wagon?”

  “Prison.”

  “Really? What did you do?”

  “I killed my fiancée.” When everyone at the bar turned to him, he shook his head. “Not directly. But I was responsible.”

  She put a hand on the back of his grimy work jacket. “Let’s go over to a booth there and talk a little more privately.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He poured himself another shot, which he also downed in one gulp. Then he wobbled on his feet for a moment before he stumbled over to the jukebox. “I want to dance. With you.” He patted the pockets of his pants and jacket before he winced. “You got a quarter?”

  “Sure.” She went over to the machine and put in fifty cents.

  He scrolled through the list and shook his head. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

  “I’ll pick something.” She punched the button for an old rock song she’d danced to back in junior high. “Come on,” she said. She held out her hand to him.

  She hadn’t really danced since about junior high, but he was so drunk she doubted he would notice. Whether it was the alcohol or just a lack of coordination, he bumped into her and then grinned like an idiot. “Sorry. This is a good song. What’s it called?”

  “You haven’t heard it? It was on every station in the city about fifteen years ago.”

  “I wasn’t in the city fifteen years ago.”

  “Oh? Where are you from?”

  “Rampart City.”

  “Where’s that?”