Danny had called it their private place because they were tucked into what felt like a fort of brush and small scrub trees on the bluff. No one could see them, even down along the shore. And it was on a blanket in this private place that they had first made love in their senior year of high school.
The shelter in the brush with a view of the lake was a perfect place to dream about the future, and they had used it often to plan everything from their wedding to which classes to take.
Then a dark Mercedes eased slowly down the gravel road toward the edge of the lake, its lights off, its wheels making cracking noises on the rocks, its engine muffled by the tall, thick brush that lined the top of the bluffs along this part of the lake.
There was just enough moonlight to see the worn gravel road used during the day by fishermen and at night by kids like Danny and Carrie. Danny had parked their Toyota Camry in some brush about fifty paces back up the hill. It couldn’t be seen at all from the gravel road.
The Mercedes was the wrong kind of car for a lake adventure. Danny could clearly hear the beautifully engineered chassis scrape against the rocks and bumps of the rough gravel and dirt road.
The only reason Danny could get his Camry this close to the lake was because he knew every bump and large dip. Clearly the Mercedes driver did not.
“What’s a car like that doing on a road like this?” Danny whispered.
“I just want to know when he’s going to leave,” Carrie whispered back. She smiled at him. “I have plans for you, and I don’t want an audience.”
He laughed. Even after all the years, they still had a good time out here along the lake.
“He can’t see us,” Danny said. “More than likely just some rich daddy’s kid on a date with his dad’s car.”
“Dad’s not going to be happy if he notices the scrapes under the car,” Carrie said, laughing softly.
The driver of the Mercedes stopped ten paces short of the edge of the bluff overlooking the water on the other side of the road.
Danny watched as a tall man got out. In the faint light from the Mercedes interior, Danny couldn’t see the man’s face, but Danny could see that the man had on a suit nearly as expensive as the car he drove.
“Not a date,” Danny whispered.
Carrie grasped Danny’s hand and said nothing as they watched.
The man opened the back door of his car and dug out a pair of dark coveralls. He pulled them on over his suit, put a dark hat on his head, and dark gloves on his hands.
With one final movement, he put on plastic boots over his shoes, the kind that golfers wear over their golf shoes on a rainy day.
Given that the night was perfect, not a sign of rain in sight, Danny had no idea what the man was up to with all the protective gear. But Danny’s stomach was telling him it wasn’t good.
Then, whistling a faint tune that seemed to just drift on the slight wind, the man moved around to the trunk of his car and opened it.
Since Danny and Carrie were just above the man and the trunk light came on, it was clear there was a human body in the trunk.
Carrie inhaled, about to scream, but Danny put a hand over her mouth before she could make a sound. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch.
Or more than likely, that was his own hand shaking.
With a swift motion, the man in the expensive suit and coveralls yanked a woman’s body out of the trunk and slammed her to the ground on the rocks and gravel.
Danny wanted to be sick. Beside him, Carrie was grabbing his hand hard and trembling.
The rich guy pulled out the plastic sheet the woman had been on in the trunk, spread it out beside her, and then rolled her body onto the plastic like it was so much garbage.
The dead woman seemed young, with long blonde hair and nice clothes. She might have been pretty because she had a thin body, and she seemed very, very stiff. Nothing about her seemed to bend.
Danny still couldn’t see the man clearly enough to pick him out of a crowd.
The man was whistling a little louder, clearly enjoying himself. The whistling sent chills through Danny’s back. He knew they were witnessing pure evil.
The man pulled the woman and the tarp toward the edge of the bluff over the water. Then, with a strength that surprised Danny, the man picked up the woman and tossed her into the water below.
The sound of her body splashing in the black lake water carried through the night air like a death knell.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Danny whispered to Carrie. “If he sees us, he’ll kill us.”
She nodded, still staring at the man on the edge of the bluff as he took a couple of rocks, wrapped the plastic around them, and then tossed the plastic into the lake as well.
“Wait,” Carrie whispered. “Let’s try to get the plate number. He hasn’t noticed us so far. Maybe we’re better off letting him leave first.”
Danny nodded. He agreed with that now that he thought about it. They would not be able to be silent moving through the brush back to their car. They were in their hidden secret place. If they stayed still, the man wouldn’t see them.
They waited and watched until the man took off his protective clothing, boots and all, wrapped rocks inside of them, and tossed the clothing in the water as well.
Then, still whistling, he climbed back into his car and shut the door.
The sound of the high-powered Mercedes engine cut through the night air. He quickly turned the car around in a wide area and went back up the road slowly, without lights or parking lights on.
It surprised Danny that a modern car could even move without at least some running lights on, but this car was nothing more than dark ghost moving along the narrow gravel road in the faint moonlight.
Danny thought his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. He was terrified the killer would see them, make them his next victims.
As the car headed slowly up the rough road, Danny eased out to see if he could read the license plate number.
Nothing but a faint dark outline of the car disappearing into the night.
When it vanished into the distance, Carrie let go of a long, shuddering breath, then burst into silent tears.
Danny let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and they both sat there, holding each other, shuddering.
Danny could see no evidence of what had just happened in the lake below.
He and Carrie had both been born and raised in Las Vegas. They heard about crime on the nightly news, but never had been this close to anything like this.
After a few minutes, Danny figured enough time had passed. He couldn’t hear the Mercedes at all.
They moved as silently as they could to their car and then sat there for another few minutes.
Nothing moving in the dark night.
Danny finally started the car and faster than he had ever driven the gravel road, he headed for the main highway.
Within minutes, Danny and Carrie were speeding back into town along the old Boulder Highway, Danny driving as fast as he could do safely.
Next stop: the Las Vegas Police Department.
He just hoped they would get there alive.
CHAPTER TWO
May 21, 2002
9:48 P.M.
Near Lake Mead, Outside of Las Vegas, Nevada
Willis Williams sat behind the wheel of his Mercedes, his engine off, the car tucked back into some brush along the side of the road, watching the entrance to the dark road that led down to the lake. Danny and Carrie Coswell had watched him from a spot on the bank above the lake. They would show up soon enough.
Of that he had no doubt.
He was impressed. It took almost fifteen minutes before the Toyota that had been parked off to one side of the dirt road screeched out onto the highway like the devil was chasing it.
Fifteen minutes must have felt like an eternity to them, making sure the big bad guy in the Mercedes was gone.
That made him laugh.
The Toyota headed dow
n the two-lane highway toward town.
He couldn’t see them clearly, but he laughed at how they must be feeling. He knew it was Danny and Carrie’s first wedding anniversary. It would be one Danny would remember for a very long time and Carrie for her very short life.
He had enjoyed them watching his little play down near the lake. And he knew exactly where that Toyota was going now. Straight to the Las Vegas police, who had already been sniffing around him as a suspect for three disappearances.
The police had nothing solid, and even now he knew they would have no more, but he had better get home and get ready for a visit from the police.
He loved taunting his victims and the police almost as much as he loved killing.
Maybe even more.
He was careful, very careful, with every detail.
And the police were stupid and too bound up by their own rules to ever get to him.
He waited until the Toyota was completely out of sight and then turned on his lights and pulled onto the highway, making sure to stay right at the speed limit on the way back into town.
It took only one pass near the main downtown police station to see the Toyota parked on the street. He laughed, then turned for his home, a beautiful gated, ten-acre estate overlooking Las Vegas.
He had a stage to set and details to take care of before his police guests arrived. He was going to enjoy their visit, of that he had no doubt.
He always loved a good game.
Especially when the cards were rigged and the wager not even known.
Part Two
THE STAKES
CHAPTER THREE
Thirteen Years Later…
May 12, 2015
5:45 P.M.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Retired Detective Bayard Lott hummed softly to himself as he unpacked the supplies he had just bought for the poker game this evening, spreading them out over his light granite countertop in his kitchen. Chips, soda, pretzels, and a bag of peanut M&Ms for “The Sarge” as everyone called him.
Lott had never imagined four years ago when Carol, the love of his life and wife for thirty years died, that he would ever be happy again. But he honestly was and mostly didn’t feel guilty about being happy anymore either.
On his wooden kitchen table, smelling like heaven sent to tempt him, was a large tub of Kentucky Fried Chicken, original recipe. Damn he loved KFC and his daughter, Annie, accused him of living on the stuff. He had to admit, many meals during a regular week were KFC.
Once a week, he hosted from four to six retired detectives in his basement poker room for a friendly game, depending on who could make it each week. The group called themselves the Cold Poker Gang. Besides playing cards, they also worked on cold cases for the Las Vegas Police Department.
They used the poker games to discuss process on different cases and brainstorm ways to break the case open.
They had been so successful over the last two years solving old cases that the Chief of Police had given members of the Cold Poker Gang special status. Not active and paid, but not fully retired and shunned.
The Chief allowed them to carry their guns if needed and keep their badges and act on behalf of the department as long as they stayed inside the regulations.
Lott loved being part of the Cold Poker Gang. When he had retired five years ago to take care of Carol in her last year of cancer, he felt like he still had a lot of years left to give the city.
So now the Cold Poker Gang allowed him to do just that, only in a much more relaxed fashion, and without all the annoying paperwork.
He had just filled a large plastic bowl with peanut M&Ms when there were two quick knocks on the back door and Retired Detective Julia Rogers walked in. She had her long brown hair pulled back and tied and her face was slightly red. She had on jeans and a light-tan blouse that he could see a running bra through.
He and Julia weren’t really dating, but he thought of them as a couple and so did she. They were getting closer to making their dating status official.
“Isn’t it early in the year to be getting this hot?” she asked, clearly enjoying the cool air-conditioning of his kitchen when she came in.
Lott had to admit, outside it did feel hot, especially after the fairly cool spring they had just had. But this was Las Vegas. It got hot.
Julia was retired from the Reno Police Force because of a bullet that had shattered her leg and caused her to walk with just a slight limp. The two of them had been getting closer and closer since they had solved her husband’s cold case murder (actually fake murder) six months before.
Compared to Lott’s six foot frame, sixty-four years of age, and tight gray hair, Julia was five-three at best, had no gray that she let show in her long brown hair, and was only fifty-five years old.
They both spent hours each day exercising. He walked and lifted weights, she ran and did aerobics to stay in shape. He really loved the shape she was in, that was for sure. He considered her the most attractive woman he knew.
Because they both wanted to have a healthy relationship when they finally allowed it to happen, both of them were getting professional counseling help. He needed it to help him deal better and accept Carol’s death.
Julia said the counseling was to help her get past what her husband had done to her and her daughter when he faked his death and left them before her daughter was even born.
He and Julia had agreed that to have anything solid between them that would last, they needed to move their pasts into the past.
So in six months, they had been slowly becoming a couple, but had not yet brought sex into the relationship. But they both seemed to know that was all right. They wanted to build something good, without too many ghosts from their pasts getting in the way.
And honestly, Lott enjoyed the teasing and flirting they did. It made him feel really young again.
Every week, Julia came over early before the game to help him set up. And they often went out to dinner after the game either with other players or on their own.
A few nights a week they had movie night, either here or in her home near the university. And a few other nights a week they both played together in a poker tournament down at the Golden Nugget.
Julia was a fine poker player and often he hung around to watch her win money in the end.
They were becoming friends, close friends, before ever moving forward with any relationship. They talked and saw each other every day and spent a lot of time together. They were a couple. They just hadn’t called it that yet.
And Lott liked that as well.
Lott had a hunch that Carol would have been glad he was slowly healing as well. His not moving on was her biggest worry in her last days of life. He had promised her he would, because she had made him, but he never thought he actually would.
Him not moving on with life had been his daughter Annie’s worry as well for a couple years after Carol died. Annie had got him to build the poker room downstairs and start to remodel some of the house. Lott had still not touched the living room, where Carol had spent most of her last year sitting and watching television, covered in a blanket. But eventually he knew he would even remodel that.
Eventually.
Annie loved Julia, and half the time they would laugh about something that Lott just missed. Lott figured that if his really smart daughter liked Julia, he couldn’t be far off in his own taste.
Julia went to the fridge, got out a bottle of cold water, and drank a third of it before turning to him while leaning against the fridge.
He glanced back from where he was opening packages of snacks for the game and realized in her wonderful green eyes that something was really wrong.
She was pretending to smile, but after six months he knew her well enough to know that was just a show.
He quickly grabbed some paper plates, some napkins, and a few forks, and pointed to the table. “Sit and tell me what’s going on.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Everything all right with J
ane?” Lott asked as they sat down.
Jane was her daughter and a grad student at UNLV. Lott liked her a great deal, and so did Annie.
“Jane’s great,” Julia said, waving away any suggestion of something wrong there as she dug into the tub and grabbed a wing.
Lott took one of the legs and bit into the wonderful taste, letting the oil and tender meat from the chicken melt in his mouth. Wow, he had been hungrier than he had thought.
He quickly finished off the leg, putting the remains on the edge of his plate.
Julia didn’t like legs and he didn’t like wings. Somewhere in their first month together, he had teased her once about that being enough to base a relationship on and she had agreed, then laughed at his shocked look.
Licking his fingers and then using the paper towel to wipe off his face, he looked at the woman he was falling for more every week. “So what’s the problem?”
“Remember I told you about my friend Trish Vittie?”
Lott remembered clearly. In fact, he and Julia had talked about her a number of times because Julia so often got worried about Trish. Julia called worrying about Trish one of her hobbies.
The two had been friends in high school and stayed friends, at least e-mail and call friends. From what Lott remembered of the conversations about Trish, she was very different than Julia. Trish was a floating free spirit that liked to bounce through husbands as well as adventures.
“I do,” he said, staring into the worried green eyes of Julia. “What’s happened?”
“She was supposed to contact me last week and didn’t,” Julia said. “So I tried to contact her in all our normal manners and nothing. No internet, no phone, nothing.”
Lott nodded and waited for Julia to finish.
“So I called the friends she has set up as contacts when she moved back into the mountains in Idaho a year ago and they haven’t seen or heard from her in two weeks either. And I tricked someone at the post office to see if her mail had been picked up and it hadn’t been picked up.”
Smith's Monthly #15 Page 9
