Exit Wounds

by V. K. Powell

  “I recently graduated. There’s a glut of grads unable to find jobs. I need to repay some loans and heard you pay well.”

  “What position are you applying for?” Ray’s note had been specific, but she could ask about other qualifications.

  “I’ll do anything. I learn fast.”

  Unfortunately the available job didn’t require much skill—expose breasts and shake. “I’m afraid we only have openings for dancers at the moment.”

  “I could do that.”

  “You realize this is a topless bar, right?”

  “Topless, as in show my tits?”

  Abby nodded.

  “Couldn’t I wait tables? I mean, look at me.” She pointed at her chest, small mounds barely evident beneath a tight T-shirt.

  The desperation in the young woman’s voice registered like a cry for help. If Kinsey were her younger sister, she’d advise her to run from this place and find a decent job that didn’t require her to strip and act like a whore. But any such advice could come back to haunt her. She was in character and needed to maintain her cover. “Leave your contact details and be here tonight at eight.”

  “You’re hiring me?” Kinsey jumped off the bar stool like she might break into a happy dance.

  “We’ll see how it goes. Maybe I can make you bartender’s assistant or something. No promises, understand?”

  Kinsey started to hug her but stopped when Abby held up her hands. “Understood and thanks, M. You’re awesome.”

  Wait until a sleazy old man grabs your ass. She watched the young woman walk out of the bar and a man the size of a tree trunk walk in. Could this day get any worse? She wanted a shower, fresh clothes, Loane, and a chance to look in the back of the moving van, in that order. Instead she was faced with Paul Bunyan and whatever fresh hell he had in store.

  “You M?” he asked, his breath and clothes reeking of stale cigarettes. His bald head shone even in the dull light. Cue ball came to mind.

  “I’m Abby Mancuso, and you?”

  “Ray.” As if that should be obvious. “Left you the key and a note, duh.”

  “Of course.” Now the dreadful penmanship made sense. “About that—”

  “Never had a woman boss. Some of the guys won’t like it.”

  She started to comment.

  “But I can grease the rails for you. I was Simon’s right hand. Not gonna change much, are you?” She tried to speak again. “Probably not a good idea right away. Guys don’t like change.”

  “Ray, if you were Simon’s right hand, I trust you can handle the day-to-day operations. I need to get into the back of the van, grab my luggage, and find a place to live at least temporarily. I’ll leave everything else to you until I get settled. Agreed?”

  By the stunned look on Ray’s face it appeared all the sentences strung together might have been too much for him. “Uh-huh, I mean no, yeah, I can handle it.”

  “What’s the no part?”

  “Carl said nobody gets in the van except me and Tiny, the other guy coming to help me unload.”

  She was too tired to be tactful and Ray probably wouldn’t notice if she was. “Do you really think he would’ve put my suitcases in the back if that included me? I’m the new boss. Carl trusts me. Open the damn lock and get my clothes out or you’ll be unemployed.”

  Ray’s massive chest seemed to shrink as he considered her words. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense.” He scratched his head as if conjuring up another thought. “Nothing but furniture in there anyway.” Abby doubted he was telling the truth.

  “Exactly.” She followed him to the truck and memorized the security combination as he plugged it in. Luckily her luggage was nowhere in sight. Whoever packed the truck had shoved boxes of furniture in last. “Damn it. Where’s my stuff?” She stood aside as though uninterested in the rest of the shipment. “And where’s your helper?”

  “I’m right here.” A shorter version of Ray but with a ponytail and a trail of cheap cologne stepped from around the side of the van. “Are you M?”

  “What’s this M stuff? My name is Abby.” Maybe sleep deprivation fueled her irritability, but she felt like she was dealing with a couple of kindergartners.

  Ray said, “We thought you were gonna be a guy, but…anyway. Kind of James Bond, huh? Get it, M?”

  Kind of moronic but she didn’t have the energy to debate with him. “Sure.”

  While Ray and Tiny searched the truck for her luggage, she scanned the contents. Each container was the same—long, rectangular, and nothing like a sofa, chair, or bar table. She had to look inside one of those boxes. “When do we unload the furniture?”

  Ray and Tiny exchanged a look and the shorter man shook his head. Unlike Ray, he seemed to actually consider his response. “We’ll take care of it later.”

  “But—”

  “Here we go. Found them, M.” Ray held up the two suitcases like prizes he’d won at a carnival. “Now you can get cleaned up and change clothes.”

  Further objection would raise suspicion. “I need a hotel…and a car.”

  “The Biltmore on Washington between Elm and Greene Street. Easy walking distance,” Tiny said. “A little pricey, but Carl’s picking up the tab until you find a place. And he rented that for you.” He inclined his head toward a red sports car in the lot.

  “Great.” It wasn’t, but she needed to get away from these guys and sleep. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” She had a feeling her life was about to get complicated, and she needed to find Loane before it did.

  *

  Abby woke after five hours physically rested but mentally exhausted, as if her mind had been constantly working. Her first thought was of Loane, but before she could savor it or decide what to do next, her personal cell rang.

  “Hello.”

  “What the hell is going on, Mancuso?” ATF Agent Dan Bowman was clearly not a happy man. They hadn’t talked since before the explosion. Barrio hadn’t mentioned anything about reconnecting with him during their call before she left Miami, yet he’d obviously given Bowman her new number. What was she supposed to say? Was this Barrio’s way of testing Bowman, feeding him bits and pieces of intel to see if and when it floated to the surface? If so, which bits was she supposed to provide? Or had Barrio learned something that led him to trust Bowman?

  “I’m shut out of the case, told you’re dead, hear nothing to the contrary for three months, and now I’m back in again. I’m not a goddamned yo-yo. What’s happening?”

  “I’m sorry, Dan. I don’t know.” He’d obviously already gotten his marching orders from above and could not be softened. She let him vent.

  “Don’t give me fucking sorry. Why wasn’t I read in on this operation? Why am I the only man standing—never a good position. I can’t even report to my own supervisor.”

  She understood Bowman’s frustration but Hector Barrio had made that call. He’d decided she should stay on assignment and Bowman should be left out of the loop until they found the leak in the Greensboro ATF office. Bowman was lashing out at her because he felt like a peon and couldn’t rant at his superiors.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Dan. I’m only an informant.”

  “Exactly! You’re a freaking informant. Why is everything so damn top secret?” She couldn’t tell him. Besides, if she said anything, truth or lie, it would only fuel his anger. “Now my orders are to serve as an information gatherer. Either you’ve got something big on somebody or you’re sleeping with the director.”

  She couldn’t win. Best to stick to the case facts. She could only assume that Barrio intended her to funnel information to Bowman. It was the only thing that made sense. “I drove a van back from Miami full of furniture, or so I was told. It’s parked behind the club on Elm Street. I haven’t been able to look inside the crates, but they don’t look like furniture boxes to me. Want me to snoop around?”

  “Sure, whatever. Do what you’ve been instructed to do and keep me in the freaking loop this time. Got it?” He hung up before s
he could answer or ask about Loane. Bowman would know what happened to her. Whether he would tell her was another story.

  As she showered and dressed, Abby considered her next move. She needed to check out the boxes in the van, but she also needed to find Loane. No contest. She listed all the places they had been together, places she might look for her. She could call her cell phone and leave a message, but too much time had passed. A call wouldn’t suffice. She needed to face Loane, to see the look in her eyes when they met again. Then she’d know if there was still hope. She’d start with the police department.

  She dialed the central contact number she’d memorized and prayed.

  “Guilford Metro Communications.”

  “Yes, I’m trying to get in touch with Officer Loane Landry.”

  “What is this regarding, ma’am?”

  “It’s a personal matter.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t release information about officers to the public.”

  “But I’m a friend. I need to get in touch with her. It’s important.” Her status as a confidential informant wouldn’t win her any points, so she couldn’t play that card.

  The operator was insistent. “I’m sorry. If you’d like to leave a name and number, I’ll try to get the information to the officer.”

  “Can you at least tell me if she’s still with the department?”

  “Ma’am, if you’d like to leave your name and number, I’ll have a supervisor call you.”

  “This is important.”

  “If you have an emergency, I’ll be glad to dispatch someone who can—”

  “Never mind.” Abby could barely see the End key on the touchpad through her tears. If Loane was still with the police department, she wouldn’t find out this way. Loane had a brother who was also a cop, Tyler. Maybe he’d be more helpful.

  She dialed directory assistance and asked for a listing for Tyler Landry, surprised when there actually was one. Most police officers she knew weren’t in the phone book. Either Tyler was more grounded than most or more reckless. Either way, it put her one step closer to Loane. She dialed the number and held her breath.

  A man with a deep, rumbling voice answered. “Yeah.”

  “Tyler Landry?”

  “Who wants to know?” Smart-ass, like his sister. In spite of the gruff greeting, her heartbeat raced in anticipation of news, any news.

  “I’m a friend of your sister and I’m trying to locate her.” Abby didn’t identify herself. She couldn’t afford for Loane to hear she was in town from anyone but her. “Can you help?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s important that I get in touch with her.”

  “Lady, I don’t know who you are. Even if I did, I couldn’t help you because I don’t know where my sister is. She disappeared.” He hung up without further explanation.

  Abby’s hope vanished and her imagination went into overdrive. Disappeared? Maybe she went on vacation and hadn’t returned yet. Did she leave of her own accord or was she taken? He didn’t say kidnapped. He said disappeared, which she hoped implied a level of choice. Anything else was unacceptable.

  She dropped into the chair beside her hotel window and stared out. Why would Loane leave Greensboro, her job, her family and friends? What if she’d gone to look for her? She wouldn’t have known where to start. Dan Bowman didn’t know where she was. She wouldn’t know to call Hector Barrio. For all Loane knew, she’d died in the explosion on Strawberry Road that night.

  Someone should’ve told Loane that she was still on the case and would resurface when possible. Abby’s head pounded. Only she and Hector Barrio knew the whole story. Who could’ve told Loane everything? Who should’ve trusted her enough to tell her the truth? Her chest tightened as guilt and remorse filled her. She should’ve. How could she ever explain why she hadn’t?

  Her need to find Loane grew more urgent. She’d go back to the place where they’d connected. A few minutes later she rapped on the solid wood door of Loane’s home until her knuckles ached. No answer. If she’d known that she wouldn’t see Loane for almost four months when she left, would she have made the same decision? The empty feeling in her chest as she looked around the house made her wonder. Loane had ignited something in her that she hadn’t felt before. Maybe she would’ve made the same decision, but she would’ve been honest with Loane about why. She would’ve been honest about everything.

  Abby walked around the side of the house and opened the privacy gate into the backyard. The last time she’d seen this view she’d been in Loane’s bed, exhausted after a marathon lovemaking session. Her body warmed with the memory and ached for a repeat. How could she have let something so special slip away? She could hear her parents now. “We taught you better.” The heavy sadness settled over her as she checked the area for any sign of Loane.

  The grounds were well groomed and the patio spotless, like someone still lived here, but nothing looked familiar. She knocked on the back door, but still no answer. Where are you, hon?

  “Can I help you?”

  Abby turned toward the voice and saw an elderly woman in a baseball cap standing outside the gate. “Sorry?”

  “Can I help? You don’t seem like a burglar or you’re a bad one, too noisy.”

  “I’m looking for Loane Landry.”

  “Moved out.” The woman delivered the news like a boring headline in the paper.

  Abby couldn’t believe Loane would’ve left this place. She had some pleasant memories here and had enjoyed making the home come alive again through her renovations. “Moved…do you know where she went?”

  “Nope. She didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. I’m not one to pry.”

  What happened to nosey neighbors are good neighbors? Abby would’ve been grateful for a curious, meddlesome old lady. “Somebody obviously still lives here. Do you know who?”

  The woman shook her head. “Young girl, not around much. You know how kids are these days, in and out at all hours.”

  So she did notice some things, just nothing that would help locate Loane. “Did Loane have any friends who might know where she went?”

  “Lady, does it look like we’d run in the same circles?” The woman turned and started back across the yard toward the house next door.

  “Thank you.” Why didn’t she know that? They’d talked at length about Loane’s family, their dysfunctional dynamics, and the sibling competition, but she’d never mentioned her friends, other than Eve Winters and her partner, Thom. Abby felt a degree of separation from the woman she loved. She’d held Loane so closely in her heart these past months, savoring every moment they’d shared, remembering every detail of their short time together. Now it seemed there were things she didn’t know about her.

  What did Loane think and whom did she turn to when Abby disappeared? Eve was the perfect person for Loane to confide in. Loane considered her not only a friend but also a surrogate mother. She’d tried to protect Loane when her mother railed against her lesbianism. Why hadn’t Abby gone to Eve first? She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine at night and the museum where Eve’s office was would be closed. She had been so preoccupied with finding Loane that she hadn’t noticed when day turned to night. She looked at her watch again, nine o’clock. Work.

  As she drove back downtown, she tried to stay positive about the prospects of finding Loane. It had been a long time since she had to consider a work schedule, and now she was late for her first day on the job. But since she was the boss, who would question her? She hoped that the moving van was still there and she’d have a chance to look inside it. Something good had to come of this day. Her spirits sagged, as did her enthusiasm for her roles as informant and now manager of an upscale titty bar—had to be an oxymoron.

  She dashed back to the hotel and changed into something that looked more bar-bossy—a pair of black leather slacks and a red silk blouse. Fingering her hair, she let it fall loosely around her shoulders. Good enough. She wasn’t working for tips.

  Abby heard
the heavy bass thump of music from the bar outside her hotel. A younger clientele strolled between restaurants and clubs, replacing business-attired people who hours earlier had dashed between work and lunch. The line of patrons from the Sky Bar stretched two blocks down Elm Street as she approached. Tiny saw her coming and cleared a path to the door, giving her only a cursory nod.

  She stepped inside and stood against the wall while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The room seemed huge, even crammed with people. It was a daunting thought that everything that went on inside this large piece of real estate was now her responsibility. Was it even possible to control so many alcohol-fueled individuals in a room with half-naked women? One thing in her favor was that only three people knew she was the boss. She could observe with anonymity and get a feel for how things worked.

  Abby inched her way around the perimeter of the room to one of the bars and ordered a vodka tonic. A blond bartender with particularly nice breasts handed her the drink and a napkin with a phone number scratched on it. If Abby’s heart hadn’t been so full of Loane, she might’ve been tempted, but no one else stirred her interest in the least. She took the drink that was only intended for camouflage and downed a gulp so fast her head throbbed in protest. Leaning against a support pillar, she reminded herself that she had to stay focused to pull off her double duty. Any slip could prove costly.

  As she looked around the room again, Abby saw the young woman she’d hired earlier, Kinsey. In a pair of low-slung jeans and a rib-hugging T-shirt, she was trying to balance a serving tray in one hand and fight off a groping patron with the other. The tray wobbled precariously before tumbling to the floor as she gave up in favor of self-preservation. She was obviously not waitress or dancer material. Abby thought again that she should fire her for her own protection. But she liked her and wanted to help her.

  As she was about to intervene, Ray rushed to the table. From her vantage point he appeared to be chastising Kinsey for her clumsiness and apologizing to the man who’d been groping her ass. She couldn’t hear the exchange, but Kinsey was not happy. With hands on her hips, she faced off with Ray.