“No, it’s Mel.”
“Why are you calling now? Did you find the girls? Did you find my Darcy?”
When I tell her we found Ziggy, but Darcy is still missing, she begins to weep.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “But, I wanted to tell you the police are searching for her right now.”
She pulls herself together and thanks me. “At least she took her insulin with her. I saw it was gone. She’s a diabetic, you see.”
I haven’t the heart to tell her the insulin is missing. When we end the call, I’m feeling even more depressed.
Billy wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. “Stay with me, Minnie. You’ll feel better after you sleep. We’ll have answers soon.”
We stumble into his house and collapse onto the bed, fully clothed. I pull a quilt over us and snuggle into Billy’s warm embrace, my head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart comforts me and slows my racing thoughts. Before I’m borne away on waves of blissful slumber, I wrap my fingers around the twin pendant and murmur to Hope, “Ziggy is safe.”
A gust of wind rattles the window and I hear her soft reply. “And, so are you.”
****
It’s noon and I’m in Nick’s office. He brought Ziggy home from the hospital, tucked her into bed and held her hand until she fell asleep. His eyes are bloodshot with deep shadows beneath. A few gray whiskers are visible on his bristly chin. He’s aged ten years overnight.
“So, the girls were shot up with the hard stuff,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Yes. I saw the tox screen they did on Ziggy. The doc said it was lucky she got away when she did. Another couple of days and she’d be craving it.”
“Not to mention, carted off somewhere and forced to turn tricks to get the drugs.” I pound a fist on Nick’s desk. “Damn, this sucks. We need to find Darcy. Does Ziggy have any clue where they might have taken her?”
“I asked her and she started to cry. She said it’s like she has holes in her memory.” Nick yawns and rubs his eyes. “She’s been through a severe trauma. The doc said not to push her.”
“Here’s an idea,” I say. “Go get some sleep. Spend time with your daughter. I can handle things here today. Helen will be in soon and I’ll give the new girl a call. She said she wanted more hours.” I grab his hand, pull him out of the chair and push him through the door.
“Bossy little thing,” he grumbles, but doesn’t resist. “Booze delivery this afternoon.”
“I can handle it.”
He heads toward the kitchen exit and stops. “Almost forgot. Yesterday, a guy came in looking for you. Said he went to your place, but you weren’t home.”
“Did you get his name?”
“Hitch something.”
“Ken Hitchcock. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him. Did he say what he wanted?”
“He said he has a job for you.” Nick grins, points at his head and twirls his pointer finger. “Somehow I got the impression it has something to do with your, um, unique ability.”
I smile at him. “Your impression is correct. I’ll call him.”
“I hope he’s paying you for all that heavy-duty mind-melding.”
“He’s paying me, but not with money. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it soon. Now, go get some sleep.”
After I sort things out in the restaurant, I find an empty booth and call Hitchcock. “I hear you were looking for me yesterday.”
“I’ve got a job for you. When can you come up?”
“I’ve got something to take care of tomorrow and I work late the next day. How about Friday?”
“Chad will pick you up at five. The guy I need you to see can’t get here until after six.”
“I’ve been calling you.”
“Sorry, I had business out of town. With the two guys you met last time.”
He doesn’t sound sorry at all, but we’re not exactly best buds, so I let it slide, even though I wonder what his out of town business with two shady guys might entail. “All right, see you Friday. I’ll plan on spending some time with the kids.”
A long silence ensues.
Finally, I say, “I will be able to see Kimber and Gunner. Right? If not, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.”
“Yes, you’ll be able to see the kids. I have someone I want you to meet as well.”
I stifle a groan. It’s highly possible Ken Hitchcock has lined up a camo-clad potential suitor for my perusal.
“And this person is…?”
His raspy chuckle assaults my ear. “Someone you’ll like. Trust me.”
When pigs grow fins and swim with the fishies.
“See you Friday.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Though the wheels of justice usually turn slowly, Billy manages to apply a little grease to speed them up. My old friend and (sort of) colleague, Candy Talbot, is the lead detective investigating the kidnapping. Ziggy, Nick and I will be interviewed. Ziggy, though quieter than usual, seems to be coping. Nick is setting up counseling sessions for the two of them. As strange as it sounds, the horrific ordeal strengthened their father/daughter bond.
When I look at Ziggy, I see fear in her soul. She tries to cover it up with bluster. I know how paralyzing fear and panic can be and offer to teach her Brazilian Jui Jitsu. Since I’m petite, it’s served me well in a couple of scary situations.
Without hesitation, she says, “Yes, when can we start?”
The day after my conversation with Hitchcock, Candy summons me. In her usual no nonsense fashion, she begins, “So, once again, you’re in the middle of a screwed-up mess.”
I smile sweetly and wait for her to continue. She activates a small recorder. “Start at the beginning.”
“I knew Ziggy hadn’t come home for a few days and ran into a friend of hers who was looking for her.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Name?”
“Benny something. He said he was worried about her.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d seen her hanging out with some guys he called bad dudes.”
I’m purposely vague about Benny. Because of his fear of reprisal, I doubt if he’ll be willing to cooperate. I go on to explain how Benny was able to find directions to the house. I described my interaction with Pete.
“Did you go into the house?”
“No, he stepped out on the porch and closed the door.”
“What did you do next?”
I’m aware she and Billy have discussed the case and she already knows the answer. I see no reason to lie. If she wants to charge me with breaking and entering, so be it. “I told Billy and Nick what I’d seen. Nick and I went back to the house and managed to find a way in.”
“How?”
I reach over and turn the recorder off. “For God’s sake, Candy, you’ve talked to Billy. You know exactly what happened. There’s no way I’m going to involve my uncle in this, so you better figure out a way to get around it.”
We lock gazes. I see confusion in her soul and give myself an imaginary pat on the back.
She sighs. “Look, I’m just trying to cover my butt. I’ve got a bunch of people looking for the other girl and I need an official record.”
We discuss possible ways to answer the how question and finally come to agreement. She turns the recorder on.
“We knocked on the door. No response. There was no way could we walk away if the girls were inside, so I used a hairpin to pick the lock.”
“What did you find?”
“No one was inside. We found rotten food, garbage, a makeshift toilet and used syringes.”
She skips ahead to the phone call I received.
“Rick Rathjen called me.” I go on to describe my relationship with the Rathjens and their connection to Ziggy.
When we get to Ziggy’s story, she listens without interruption and scribbles notes. Once again, I’m certain Billy has already filled her in. Maybe she’s checking to see of our stories match. When I finish, s
he stops the tape and glances at me, her eyes sparking with anger.
“Damn, I want to nail these guys.” She leans back in her chair and folds her arms.
I notice she’s now giving me guarded glances, like she suddenly remembered I could plumb the depths of her soul.
“We’re off the record now. Tell me about Paul Moen. Billy said you had a run-in with him.”
“I suspected he was giving Ziggy fentanyl. He laughed at me when I asked him to stop, so I recruited an assistant.”
Candy’s mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile. “Yes, I heard about the incident.”
I continue, “I have absolutely no proof, but I believe Moen is basically a bully who thinks I’m the weakest link. There’s no way he would challenge my, um, assistant.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
She rises, signaling our interview is over. “I’ll be talking to Ziggy this afternoon. I’ll check out the Paul Moen angle. It sounds like you think Moen planned the kidnapping to get back at you, to show you who’s boss. Sounds extremely unlikely to me. Would he really go to all that trouble because you pissed him off?”
I ignore the question, scoot my chair back and stand. “Are we done? Keep me posted.”
She gives my body an appraising onceover. “If I don’t, I’m sure you have another source of information.”
I leave before I can say what I’m thinking. Screw you, Candy, and your confused little mind.
My annoyance grows as I walk to the parking lot. I climb into Buttercup, but don’t start the engine. Candy Talbot’s derisive and superior attitude ticks me off. If Paul Moen is the guy who orchestrated the kidnapping, I don’t want him overlooked because Talbot thinks I’m an attention-seeking, self-centered, wannabe soap star.
After I ponder the dilemma a while longer, I arrive at a solution and an evil chuckle slips out. I’m sleeping with one of her colleagues. Why not use it to my advantage?
I punch in Billy’s number.
He picks up after the first ring. “Minnie. How did the interview go?”
“It was okay, but I’m pretty sure she’s blowing off the Paul Moen connection. She says it sounds extremely unlikely. Billy, I know I don’t have proof, but I know, I just know he’s involved in this. We can’t let him walk away.”
After a long moment, Billy says, “I’ll talk to Candy. This is a big case for her. She might be feeling a little overwhelmed. If I offer to look into the Paul Moen angle, I think she’ll jump on it. Sound okay?”
“Thanks, I owe you.”
His voice lowers to a sexy growl. “Trust me, I’ll collect. See you tonight.”
My body responds to the heat in his voice. I grip the phone tighter. “Tonight? What about right now?”
Though his hand is over the phone, I hear him say, “Anybody have a problem with me taking an early lunch?”
I hear laughter and a couple of comments. “Enjoy your lunch, Billy.” “Give her my regards.”
“See you in five minutes,” he says.
“Make it twenty. I’m not home.”
We arrive at the same time. Once inside, I rip off my clothes and jump into his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist.
His breathing accelerates and he grins. “Wow, Minnie, have I been neglecting you?”
I nibble at his neck. “Yes, but we’ve been busy. Now, get your clothes off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He walks us into the bedroom.
We come together in a heated rush of desire, no foreplay required. I let go of all my worries, relax and revel in sensation. I feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. His muscular body pressed against mine. His feathery touch to the most sensitive, intimate parts of my body. I breathe in his unique scent. Motorcycle leathers. Minty toothpaste. Pine-scented air.
My Billy. My love. For this moment, I am at peace.
Chapter Forty-Four
It’s Friday and I’m waiting for Chad to pick me up. I’m toting a shopping bag full of stuff for the twins, including framed pictures of Jake’s stunning artwork on the schoolhouse ceiling. I also have two boxes of the little goldfish crackers Chad is so fond of. One for him. One for the twins.
At four forty-five, I get a call from Chad. “My damn truck broke down. I’m getting it towed into 3 Peaks right now. I doubt your car can make it up the mountain. Want me to call Ken?”
I think for a moment. “You’re right, Buttercup can’t handle it, but I’ll see if I can borrow my uncle’s car. Call you back.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m behind the wheel of a sleek, black 1964 Pontiac GTO, which, according to Uncle Paco, is the classic muscle car. I’m paying close attention to Paco’s directions and dire warnings.
“Listen up, little girl. This here is a powerful machine. It’s like having a motorcycle gang under your hood. They’re all revving their engines, itchin’ to get on the road. You got it?”
Actually, I’m having a hard time imagining an entire motorcycle gang under the Pontiac’s hood, but dutifully nod my head. “Got it.”
“In other words, feather the accelerator, don’t stomp it. Take it easy on the curves. You’re going up a mountain road. Right?”
I nod again.
“Want me to drive?”
“I’ll be fine.”
The next step is driving Paco home. I know it’s a test, so I barely touch the accelerator when I back out of the driveway. The Pontiac leaps backward. I hit the brakes and screech to a stop.
Paco shakes his shaggy head. “See what I’m talking about?”
By the time we reach his house, I’m getting the hang of it.
Paco still has his doubts. “Call if you need me. I’ll hop on the Harley and be there in a flash.”
“I’ll be back late, so don’t worry.”
He kisses the top of my head, pats the hood of the car and heads for the house.
I pick up Chad at the repair shop. When he sees the Pontiac, his eyes light up. He opens the door on the driver side. “You better let me drive. This thing is way too powerful for you.”
“No.”
“Aw, come on, Mel. Please?”
“Maybe later.”
He sulks for a bit, but cheers up when I give him the goldfish crackers.
The route to New Dawn is familiar, but with all of Paco’s warnings swirling through my brain, I’m taking it slow.
Chad can hardly bear it. “Damn it, woman, we won’t get there until morning if you don’t speed up.”
I increase the speed to thirty-five mph. “Who’s the guy Ken wants me to see?”
He mumbles. “Not supposed to talk about it.”
“If you tell me, I’ll let you drive.”
He can’t wait to spill his guts. “Actually, there are two guys. Ken wants you to sit in on the interview with one of them. Apparently, he has a particular skill Ken needs.”
“Which is?”
He shrugs.
“What about the second guy?”
He shoots me a sly grin. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but let’s just say Ken’s hoping you’ll find your forever soul mate and move to New Dawn.”
I don’t respond, although I’m thinking, fat chance.
True to my word, I pull over and let Chad take the wheel. First, I give him a stern warning. “No funny stuff. This car belongs to a three-hundred-pound Mexican gangbanger who will kick your ass six ways from Sunday if he sees a single ding or scratch.”
Chad turns pale, but nods.
I have to admit, he handles the car well. His expression is joyful as he speeds up on the straightaways and slows for the curves. We reach New Dawn in record time and, when the guards see Chad, we’re waved through the gate without a hitch. We pull up in front of the community hall. I hold out a hand for the car keys.
Chad says, “I should probably keep ’em since I’ll be driving you home.”
“Give me the damn keys, Chad.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get testy.”
He takes my cell phone and follows me into the hall. “Ken
said for you to go to his office first.”
“Oh, yay, the hallowed hall of dead animals,” I mutter. “Their glassy eyes freak me out.”
Chad emits a strangled laugh disguised as a cough.
Hitchcock is waiting for me and wastes no time on pleasantries. “You’re late.”
I bare my teeth in a fake smile. “Hello to you too, Ken. How are you this evening?”
He rubs his bloodshot eyes. “Sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault. Damn kid should take better care of his truck.”
“Cut him some slack. Some things can’t be helped. We’re here. Isn’t that what matters?”
He nods absently. His mind is clearly somewhere else. “The guy I’m about to interview has a somewhat shady past.”
“What’s new? Doesn’t everybody here have a shady past?”
He ignores the question. “He was referred by a friend of a friend. I’m not sure he’s the right fit for New Dawn.”
“Then, why bother with him?”
Clearly uncomfortable, he pinches his lips together before he answers. “He has a skill we need at New Dawn.”
“Which is?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Oh, please,” I say. “How can I help you if I don’t know what you’re looking for?”
He pushes away from his desk and stands. “I’ll ask the questions. Your job is to figure out if he’s lying.”
I don’t budge out of my chair. “What’s his crime? Why is he running?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
I follow him out of his office, bitching all the way. “I hope you realize you’re putting me in an impossible situation. It’s like I have two hands tied behind my back and I’m trying to scramble eggs, or type a letter, or…”
He waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just do the best you can.”
I tap him on the shoulder. “Before we start, tell me about the other guy you want me to meet. I have a boyfriend, you know.”
“Later,” he says, and opens the door to the conference room.
Clad in a short-sleeved white shirt and dark trousers, the man seated at the table startles at our approach. Painfully thin, his prominent Adam’s apple is clearly visible in his long, narrow neck. Oversized glasses rest upon his beak of a nose. His hairline has retreated to the middle of his scalp where tufts of dark hair rise up as if seeking the light.
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