by Domino Finn
Jason Bower was obviously concerned about being seen, so Diego kept a good distance between them. The man turned the corner without looking back. When the biker arrived at the cross street, he spotted Jason further down the block, past the small strip mall. Diego continued through an empty lot until he saw where the man was headed: a tattered husk of a building with an unlit cocktails sign. A dive bar.
Knowing Jason might take another quick look around before entering, Diego ducked behind a bus stop advertisement. Next time he checked, Jason was gone.
The man hadn't been home all morning. Something had happened at the campsite that caused him to leave in a hurry, but he obviously didn't have anywhere to go. While trying to avoid his home, the best he came up with was a local bar down the block.
Jason was certainly being evasive. He had something to hide, no doubt. The fact that he'd been in Hazel's vicinity before she vanished gave Diego confidence he was onto something.
As the biker approached the entryway, he imagined what could be within. It was unlikely Hazel was inside—while the bar was probably empty this early in the afternoon, an eight-year-old would readily stand out. That meant the girl would be at another location.
If Jason didn't have her, who did?
Diego realized he didn't know where Jason's car was. His driveway was empty, likely to convince anyone interested that he was out of town. The biker wondered if Jason was stupid enough to park in the bar's corner lot. Diego passed the building and checked. There were only two vehicles, a pickup truck and an old Volkswagen Beetle. Both were clearly empty.
To the bar, then.
Diego stepped inside. A large Samoan man frowned at him. Defensive line, thought Diego. Maybe made it to college, maybe didn't, but he had to have been a hell of a high school player. Now all his frame was good for was intimidation, and it worked on Diego.
The biker pressed passed the obstacle. The bartender squinted against the sunlight that invaded his lair. He was an older man with a brittle demeanor. Surprisingly, the small space had several patrons: two tables' worth and a few at the bar, all men of course.
Jason Bower was at the bar alone.
The man picked himself up and headed into the back hallway, leaving his shopping bag and a backpack on the floor. Jason didn't look his way. It was perfect. Diego went for the back.
"The bathroom's fer payin' customers," said the bartender in a voice that held more weight than he did.
"That's fine," answered Diego, barely slowing his stride.
"What'll you have then?" he barked.
Diego stopped when he realized the bouncer had taken notice. He pulled a couple of bucks from his wallet and slapped them on the counter. "Get me a root beer with a straw." Then he continued into the back.
The hallway made the dingy bar area feel like a hospital. It was darker, dirtier, and smelled like a sewer. Diego held his breath and pushed open the door to the men's room. It was a single, tiny stall. Diego didn't even think there was enough square footage to accommodate the Samoan. A dirty urinal was tucked beside an even dirtier sink, and the toilet was empty save for being covered in piss.
Diego skipped out and went to the women's room next. It was locked. Diego checked up and down the hall and didn't see anywhere else to go besides the emergency exit, which a sign warned would alarm on opening. The biker pounded on the bathroom door.
"Occupied," grumbled a man.
"Open up," commanded Diego, banging harder.
The door swung inward to reveal an angry, bald man missing half his ear. Behind him, a trashy woman with torn stockings sat on the toilet seat. She didn't even bother looking up. Instead her attention was fixed on the line of coke on the sink.
"What the fuck?" demanded the man.
Diego just put his arms up and backed away.
The exit. Jason Bower had used the exit.
Diego bounded through the exterior door. No alarm sounded. The harsh sun blinded him. At the last second he noticed a quick movement to his side. Something smashed him on the head and his vision changed from white to black. Diego slammed to the floor and threw his arm up to block the following blow, but it never came. Jason Bower retreated back into the bar.
The biker reeled on the asphalt. The padded arm of his riding jacket supported him, shards of glass embedded in the leather. Half of a jagged Miller bottle rolled to a stop next to his head.
Diego shook his head and came to his senses. He picked himself up and lurched back inside.
His senses were being put through the ringer. Light, dark, light, dark. He was disoriented and still not fully in command of his balance. But he saw Jason leaving the bar with his bags slung over his shoulder.
"Stop," commanded Diego.
Jason broke into a sprint, and Diego lunged ahead. The biker picked up an empty barstool and spun his body around, sending it flying into the man's back. Jason tumbled to the floor and Diego pounced on him.
Everything was going according to plan, more or less, until the bouncer got involved.
Chapter 15
Maxim kneeled beside the teenager. The boy sat on the couch, head down, staring at his fidgeting hands. His father, a well-muscled but short man, stood over them both.
"You won't get in any trouble, Bryan," promised the detective.
"Speak for yourself," said the father. He eyed his son harshly. "Bryan, you're grounded no matter what you do, but you'd better tell this police officer everything you know right now. If I find you left anything out, I'll send you to your grandmother's for the summer."
"No, Dad!" he cried. "Please!"
The urgency in the boy's voice caused Maxim to smirk. The old lady must've been a real hag.
"Okay," said the boy. "I was with Annabelle. But only at first. The whole thing was like a prank."
The father huffed and tensed his crossed forearms over his chest. Maxim nodded reassuringly to Bryan.
"What was a prank? The disappearance?"
"No, the whole thing. The camping." Bryan glanced fearfully at his dad. "You know, she's always talking about leaving town for good. Hitchhiking to Los Angeles. Living off the streets if she needed. So a few of the guys thought, you know, it's a long weekend. Grady's parents were out of town, and he convinced Allison and BT to go. We all kinda thought it would be fun to run away for the weekend."
"Run away my ass," said his father, shaking his finger. "You charged seventy-five dollars to my credit card, and you're gonna work every penny of that off. With interest."
"Okay, Dad. I'm sorry."
Maxim bit his tongue. As a minor not charged with a crime, Bryan was only talking to the detective at his father's pleasure. Maxim didn't like the man interrupting his progress, but he was wary of getting on the father's wrong side. So far, they both were cooperating completely.
"Did you stay at Quiet Pines?" asked Maxim.
"No. No campsites. We wanted to be off the grid. To prove we could live off the land. That we didn't need our parents."
The father scoffed.
"It was just for fun, Dad."
Maxim nodded again. "So where did you stay?"
"BT knew a place just south of Sanctuary. A tree that got hit by lightning last year."
Maxim knew the place. As with Hazel Cunningham, Annabelle had last been seen north of the Interstate, although Quiet Pines was fifteen minutes to the west.
"And you never went into Flagstaff for a concert?"
"No, I never heard anything about that. All I knew was, she was cool for the weekend. But Annabelle's always lying to her parents like that. They don't care."
The kid may not have been far from the truth. Maxim glared at the boy pointedly. "So what happened to her?"
"Man, nothing! We just kissed a little. If she says anything else then that's a lie!"
"I'm talking about her disappearing, Bryan."
"Oh," the boy said meekly, glancing at his father. "Everything was fine Friday night. We slept in separate tents and everything. When we woke up the next morning, sh
e was gone."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"'Cause we didn't do anything," he insisted. "We figured she just chickened out, you know? Walked back to Sanctuary. Her tent and bags were gone, so it was obvious she left by herself. And then BT noticed his wallet was missing. He thought maybe she went through with it and hitchhiked to California. But I didn't think so. I mean, Annabelle likes to talk a lot. She acts like she's an adult, but she's not. I knew she was still around."
"So that was the last any of you saw of her?"
Bryan nodded.
"If I talk to Grady and BT and Allison, they'll all say the same thing?"
"I swear."
Maxim chewed his lip. He wouldn't take the kid's word for it, of course. Half his job was confirming mundane information. It was in the little discrepancies that the lies revealed themselves.
"Look at me, Bryan," said the detective, locking his eyes on the boy's. "Did anyone do anything to Annabelle to make her leave? Do you know why she would have left you?"
The boy didn't answer immediately. His lip quivered. "No."
"Bryan," intoned the father.
The teenager stared at his lap again. "I—she might have been a little drunk."
"What?"
"Grady brought some wine coolers. I only had a taste."
His father snorted. It didn't take a detective to see through that lie. Maxim put his hand up to calm the man.
"Listen to me, Bryan. This is important. Did Annabelle say anything that night about what she wanted to do? Where she wanted to go?"
He shook his head. "Just Los Angeles, man. She wanted to be a singer. She was always recording herself, singing new songs and stuff."
Maxim frowned. "And if she didn't go home, if she didn't see her mother or father or any friends from school, where else would she have gone?"
Bryan thought for a moment but nothing came to him. The ringing of Maxim's phone interrupted them and he backed up to retrieve it from his jacket.
"Is that what you spent my seventy-five bucks on?" demanded the father. "Alcohol?"
Maxim stepped away as the two argued. He didn't recognize the phone number but answered anyway. "Detective Dwyer."
"Detective," came a familiar voice. "This is David Harper. There's an incident that needs your attention."
"What is it?"
"Your friend, Diego de la Torre—he's in police custody. He deserves it, to be honest, but he's asking to talk to you."
Maxim winced. "What did he do?"
"He followed a man into a bar in Williams and attacked him. Security grabbed him and a local uniform responded. Diego insisted this was related to the kidnapping so the deputy notified me."
Maxim tensed. "Related how?"
"That's the problem. It's not. Your friend is getting himself into trouble over this." David Harper assumed the same smug tone of superiority Maxim had come to expect. "Listen, this looks like a misunderstanding. The victim doesn't want to press charges and I realize your friend is worked up over recent events. As a favor to you, I'd be willing to let him walk, but you need to come down here to pick him up."
Great, Diego was getting into his usual trouble and cashing in a get-out-of-jail-free card. The last thing Maxim needed was a distraction. Even worse, he would now be in debt to a cocky detective from another department.
But he had no choice.
"Give me the location."
Chapter 16
Maxim parked on the side of the road behind Detective Harper's unmarked car. Unlike Maxim's silver TT, it was a government vehicle. In the house's driveway was a Williams Police Department cruiser, with the familiar Shamu black and white coloring.
Diego de la Torre had garnered the attention of three agencies.
Speaking of the biker, as soon as Maxim exited his coupe, he spotted the outlaw handcuffed in the back of the police car, surprisingly calm. The biker turned to Maxim and smiled. The detective simply shook his head and continued past.
David Harper waved from the front porch and met Maxim halfway.
"Thanks for this," said Maxim.
The other man nodded. "It's not a problem." The Coconino detective appeared spent, but Maxim didn't see any anger on his face. Perhaps Harper really was making a kind gesture.
"This is what went down," he said. "Your friend got a name from the manager of Quiet Pines. That man, Jason Bower, lives at this residence. He actually wasn't on our list. According to Diego, we missed him at the scene because Jason checked out before the girl went missing. You with me so far?"
Maxim sighed and glanced back at Diego. "Yeah."
"Okay. So far, so good. Not a bad piece of information, actually. But then your friend decides to confront the man himself. Bower, being followed by a biker, is naturally afraid for his life. He clocks Diego with a bottle and they get into a brawl at the local watering hole. Except, this isn't the best neighborhood. They keep a bouncer on at all times, even in the morning. And you should see this guy. He's a grizzly bear."
"Got it," said Maxim impatiently. "How much trouble is he in?"
Harper raised his eyebrows and paused for dramatic effect. "None. Jason's sorry for what he did. Diego only got physical in response. It's funny how easily a large Samoan can appeal to a man's reason. Your friend decided he was fine with the authorities handling the rest."
Maxim chuckled. "Neither wants to press charges?"
"Nope. As long as everyone cooperates. I'm gonna call this a wash."
A police officer in blues exited the house. He nodded at Maxim, who returned the gesture.
"Sorry about all this," said Maxim. "And thanks. Can we get Diego out now?"
The officer shrugged. "I was waiting for you."
"By the way," said Maxim before they moved to the car, "where are you on the camper?"
Detective Harper stretched his shoulders and yawned. "Jason Bower? He says he never even saw the girl. He let us search the premises, and a phone call confirmed that he left the campgrounds three or four hours before Hazel went missing."
"What was the fight about?"
"Guy owes money to some bad people, apparently. He says he's been in hiding over the weekend, avoiding any unpleasant confrontations. That's why he went to Quiet Pines. Get this. He had his hopes on the Final Four. Only Saturday's game doesn't go his way and he needs to wait for the championship on Monday."
"But he's still hiding out today so it looks like he missed his payday."
Harper shrugged. "We both know how that goes. Bower panics while deciding how to climb out of his deepening hole, sees your friend, and thinks he's a scary gangster."
Maxim chuckled. "He's not far off."
Both detectives waited for the other to say something, but that was all there was. A funny story, as long as you weren't Jason or Diego, but nothing more. The lead on Bower had triggered false hope. Still, Maxim couldn't help but wonder what else Diego had on the man.
"Okay. Let's get Al Capone out of the car."
Chapter 17
Diego grew impatient as they neared the vehicle. It didn't make sense. He'd been detained for over an hour already—what difference did another minute make? But Maxim was sure as shit taking his time getting him out of this cage.
Cage. Diego again thought of the biker word for cars. He had just wanted to avoid being cooped up in the tow truck today. He never figured the term to be so literal.
As his freedom teased closer, all he could see was the photograph of Hazel Cunningham, still in his pocket but etched into his synapses, like an afterimage forever burned into a TV screen. Diego needed to get out, shake things up, change the picture again.
Maxim, as if reading his thoughts, paused outside the car door. He shot Diego a familiar stare, half warning, half threat. It instructed Diego to behave. To act rationally.
To not be himself.
Diego fumed and wanted to curse but held back. If there was ever a time to check his temper, it was while in police custody. As he knew it would, the door opened just second
s later.
"Proud of yourself?" asked Maxim.
Diego sneered. "How about you give me the guilt trip later, after Hazel's safe?"
Maxim backed away and spread his hands in surrender. The detective was good like that. He was a cop, for sure, but his priority was always the victim.
Officer Bagley approached to help Diego exit the car. The biker shrugged away the assistance. He gladly turned around and accepted the uncuffing of his hands, though.
"Today's your lucky day," said the cop. "But Arnold doesn't want you in the Gold Room again."
Diego rubbed his sore wrists. "I like my bars with a little less puke anyway."
The officer smiled and shut the door.
"So are we done with this?" asked Detective Harper. The man crossed his arms and stood tall. "You promise not to harass Mr. Bower anymore?"
"I promise," said Diego. "Just a conversation, if I can."
The detective shook his head and turned to Maxim. "Is this guy serious? He—" David stopped himself and stepped into Diego's personal space. "No. Listen to me. Mr. Bower's had a long day. And he's in a world of shit already without you. He sold his car today to cover a gambling loss, and might need to sell the house."
"That's his problem," replied Diego. "If you really gave a shit you could put a protection detail on him."
David Harper laughed. "I don't give a shit, man. As long as I'm not dragged away from my work. He could dig his own grave for all I care. So can you. But you're not talking to him again."
Diego's face must've gone red. He wanted to tell the cop off even though he'd just done him a big favor. That consideration made him pause. Thankfully Maxim cut in.
"Actually, I don't want to step on anyone's toes, Detective, but if you're done with Jason Bower I'd like to chat with him for a few minutes."
The next few seconds were filled with silence. Diego's friend had done exactly what he expected, and he didn't see how he wouldn't get his conversation now.
