Calculated Risk (A Cross Security Investigation Book 2)

by G. K. Parks

  The moving vans from the self-storage facility routinely made trips to the docks to unload freight containers. Those shipments would then be kept inside storage units until they were disbursed directly to buyers or sold in Pauley’s Pawn or another pawn shop. Of course, I discovered all of this too late.

  Club Nova wasn’t part of Lenmere LLC. I dug and dug but couldn’t directly link it to Vasili or the Russian mafia. Vasili had to control it, or he had people working there. A part of me regretted my hasty decision to delete the video footage. If I’d been thinking more clearly instead of reacting, I could have recovered some of the deleted sections and figured out what Vasili had done with Svetlana’s body or had irrefutable proof he was the murderer. Instead, I spent hour upon hour hoping to get myself out of the hole I’d dug, which had only gotten deeper and darker since Knox’s disappearance.

  “I need to go back to Knox’s house,” I muttered. It’d been three days since the cops had stopped by. As far as I knew, Knox hadn’t turned up. His credit cards had gone dormant. His phone battery had died. He’d simply vanished. Everything about his disappearance indicated he was dead, and I wanted to know who killed him.

  Maybe the police had gotten distracted with other things. They had a gang war to worry about. They didn’t have time to waste on Trey Knox. Without a body, there was no crime.

  I headed over to his place, but I didn’t want there to be any record of my return visit. Given the guard station and nature of the gated community, getting in wouldn’t be easy. It took several hours of careful consideration and some climbing gear, but I found a way inside.

  Creeping up to Knox’s house, I wondered if the police were watching. If they were, they’d probably arrest me on sight. But I didn’t see any cars around. Just as I was about to try my luck with one of the first floor windows, a police cruiser entered the gate.

  Danger, danger, the voice in my head said, abort mission. Without waiting to see why the police had shown up, I dashed back to the breach point, went over the wall, and pulled the rope up and over behind me. I landed funny, my back twisting. It served me right for being so stupid. With Knox’s house off limits, there was only one other place to check—his office.

  I dropped my car off and took a cab to his office building. When I entered the lobby, I spotted the security cameras. It would be impossible to conceal my visit, but it didn’t matter. Knox had been my client. The cops could check to see why I stopped by. My questions would be about Knox’s last known whereabouts and nothing else. It wouldn’t be suspicious. If anything, it’d be expected.

  “Mr. Cross?” Margaret, Knox’s assistant, looked up from the computer as I entered.

  I smiled at her. “You remembered.”

  She stared at my face for a few moments but was too polite to inquire as to what happened. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Knox isn’t here.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

  “He hasn’t been to work at all this week.” Her eyes darted to the left, and she got distracted with something on the desk beside her.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  She shook her head. “The police stopped by. Mr. Stone called them when Trey didn’t show up for work two days in a row. I told them the same thing I’m telling you.”

  Resting my palms against the desk, I turned up the charm. “They can be rather annoying and intrusive. They came to see me too. I thought it’d only be fair to check on him myself, seeing as how I’m a private investigator and all.”

  She glanced at me. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  My gut said she was lying. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Trey was really into this job. It’s all he talked about. And you, you’re obviously an amazing assistant. Brilliant, I think is what he said.”

  She blushed. “That’s sweet.”

  “He said you’d do anything for him. I can’t believe he’d just disappear without telling you he was taking off.” She bit her lip, glancing at me before dropping her gaze back down. “He contacted you, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “No. Not since the first day he missed. He called, like I told the cops.” She looked up at me. “Like I told you. He said he was running late, but he never showed.”

  “Did he ask you to do something?” I knew there was more to the story. “You won’t get in trouble. This can be our little secret.”

  “He asked me to have a courier send over the portfolio he kept in his desk drawer. He said he needed it to prepare for a meeting. I just figured he was running late. I didn’t think he wouldn’t come back.”

  “What was in it?”

  “I don’t know. It was a nice leather bound portfolio. I always teased him it was his diary because he had this little lock hooked around the clasps to keep it closed. He said it was just data sheets and projections.”

  “So why the lock?”

  She shrugged. “I asked him about it once, and he said it was to make sure it stayed closed. He’s a freak when it comes to organization.”

  “Do you mind if I look around his office?” I asked.

  “The police already did that. They didn’t find anything, and Mr. Stone wouldn’t like it if I let some outsider snoop around.”

  “I don’t blame him.” I looked around but didn’t spot anything obvious. “Did you tell the police about the portfolio?”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  “May I ask why not?”

  “I don’t want to get in trouble. If that was proprietary info or something valuable to the company, I don’t want Mr. Stone finding out I sent it over to Mr. Knox’s house the day before he disappeared.”

  “Did he have to sign for it?” I asked. Knox had been holed up at Cross Security that day.

  “No.”

  “One final question. Do you know if Mr. Knox’s car is still parked in the garage?”

  She shook her head. “Police impound.”

  “Did they find anything?”

  Again the headshake. “Nothing, but that’s good, right? It means wherever he is, he’s okay.”

  “Let’s hope so.” But I doubted it. “Thanks for your time. If you hear from Mr. Knox or remember anything that might be helpful, I wouldn’t mind a call.”

  “The police said the same thing,” she said.

  “Yes, but they aren’t nearly as much fun as I am, now are they?”

  As I left Knox’s office, I couldn’t help but wonder when he would have had time to make the call. I’d already checked his phone records. He could have contacted Margaret while I had him handcuffed to my steering wheel, assuming he had been able to get the phone out of his pocket or had used the voice dial feature instead. But why would he want that portfolio? And could that be the reason someone broke into his house and abducted him?

  None of this made sense. The only thing I could determine was it had been a ledger of what he owed Vasili, and he didn’t want anyone at work to find it in the event of his demise. But that didn’t make a lot of sense either. Nothing did.

  When I made it back to the office, I checked the phone records again and did a bit more digging into Knox’s office phone records. With the police snooping through everything, I had to be careful. If they caught me, it wouldn’t be good.

  But the calls Knox made from his office phone prior to his disappearance were all work related. The portfolio might not have anything to do with anything. I was tired of going around in circles. I just wanted to know if a threat remained, and the only way I could figure that out was by figuring out what happened to Trey Knox.

  “Lucien,” Justin called from the outer office, “Jim Harrelson’s on line one.”

  I could only think of two reasons why he’d call, and if my father were dead, my mom would have told me. “Thanks.” I picked up the receiver and hit the button. “Jim?”

  “A couple of detectives were just asking questions about you.”

  “Moretti and Renner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you know about them?” I asked.

&
nbsp; “I wouldn’t worry about the snow pea,” that was his affectionate term for green detectives, “but Moretti knows his shit. He’s got a nose for things, and he doesn’t have a good feeling about you. He thinks you’re hiding something.”

  “What’d he want to know?”

  “He wanted to know about you and Trey Knox.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “What do you think? I don’t know Trey Knox, and I sure as shit don’t know what dumbass thing you’re in the middle of. He spoke to Gallo about the recovery and the anonymous tip the cops got.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He thinks you called it in.”

  “Is he going to send me a thank you card?”

  “I don’t know, but if you did something stupid, now’s the time to be smart and fix it. Open your mouth, say whatever it is, and get it taken care of.”

  “Did he find Knox?” I asked.

  Jim didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You’re actually concerned. You know, son, you would have made a good cop.”

  “I’m not your son.”

  He ignored it. “You care. That’s good. I’m guessing whatever happened, you tried to do the right thing. Have you been looking for Knox?”

  “I would never interfere in a police investigation.”

  I could almost hear Jim rolling his eyes. “Stop being stupid. If you know something or can help with this, you better. They think he’s dead. You don’t want to look like a suspect.” He hung up before I could respond.

  Blowing out a breath, I looked over the information I’d learned. One thing continued to bother me. Knox might have been at home when the original break-in occurred. That meant he watched Vasili’s men take all of his belongings. I didn’t know if that was true, but if it were, everything Knox said to me was a lie. That fit with the one thing I knew about Knox; he was a liar.

  If Knox had been at home, Vasili would have given him an ultimatum. Vasili wanted something from Knox, something more than just cash, and if Knox didn’t do it, Vasili would have punished him. The Russian had been big on consequences. I just didn’t know what Vasili would have wanted Knox to do for him or who was collecting in Vasili’s place.

  After going over everything with a fine-tooth comb, I was no closer to figuring any of it out. No matter how I tried to tackle my problem, I ended up at a dead end. I had next to nothing on Svetlana, so I couldn’t track her down or figure out if the police were looking for her. No Jane Does matching her description had shown up at the morgue. Almeada had a contact down there who checked. Freddy G had his ear to the ground and had spoken to his Irish pals. They didn’t know much of what was going on, just that they didn’t trust the Russians and kept their business separate.

  I needed the cops to stop digging. Once they gave up the investigation, I could speak to Knox’s coworkers, check his office computer, check the office security, go back to his house, dust and print everything, and speak to his neighbors and the security guards. But I couldn’t do any of that without overlapping the cops and getting moved up on their radar. As it was, Det. Moretti already had a few suspicions about me. That’s why he’d gone to Jim. They must have been tracking my movements. He probably spoke to Gallo who said we’d met up there. Maybe Moretti had gotten the tip about KC’s bar from my father. I wouldn’t put it past the bastard.

  The intercom buzzed, and I gave it an odd look. Justin and I were the only two people in the office, and my door was open. Before I could ask what he wanted, Detective Snow Pea came into view.

  I pressed the intercom button before Renner finished flashing his badge. “Send him in.”

  Justin swiveled in his chair and glanced back at me. I nodded, and Justin turned around. “Mr. Cross can see you now.”

  The man stepped into the room. He had to be around my age, possibly younger. Depending on when he got out of the academy, he might be one of the youngest cops to make detective. That should mean he was brilliant and talented, but I doubted it.

  “Thanks for seeing me.” Renner looked down at my client chair.

  “Have a seat, Detective Renner.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  “Seriously, man, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Then don’t call me sir. Save that for my father.”

  “The commissioner. Yes, sir.”

  I gave him a hard look.

  “Right, sorry, Mr. Cross.”

  “Lucien.” I didn’t think it was an act. “Is this your first case since making detective?” He didn’t say anything, but from the gentle flush of his cheeks, I knew it was. “That’s why they stuck you with that hard ass.”

  Renner made a face.

  “He’s right outside, isn’t he?” I asked.

  “Yes, s—”

  Oh well. After Moretti finished playing twenty questions with Justin, he stepped into my office. Divide and conquer was a good tactic, but Justin had vague down to a science. Moretti took a seat in the other empty chair and leaned back.

  “Mr. Cross, I had a conversation earlier today with Jim Harrelson. He said you work hard and always do the right thing. He also said you’re a lousy tipper.”

  “You aren’t supposed to tip the proprietor.”

  Moretti pulled out his notepad. “I just wanted to touch base with you. For the last few days, we’ve looked under every rock. We’ve got no leads on Mr. Knox’s whereabouts. He hasn’t returned to his home or shown up at his place of business. He hasn’t contacted any friends or family, and he hasn’t visited any of his normal hangouts. Nothing indicates he didn’t just decide to disappear, but we have to be thorough. Most men with homes and jobs don’t vanish without a trace.”

  “There’s always that one.”

  Moretti didn’t appear amused. He was sharp. He’d seen a lot and knew there was more to this situation. It had something to do with the look in his eyes. “I’ve been informed you’re a private investigator.”

  “That’s no secret. It says so on the door.”

  “Have you looked into Knox’s disappearance?”

  “A little.” I should have said no.

  “What have you found?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me why Knox hired you. What did he tell you about the break-in?”

  “Not much.” I went over a few vague details, avoiding anything and everything that might trace back to Vasili. “Knox didn’t know who broke in to his house. I asked if he had any vengeful exes or disgruntled coworkers. He said no, and I found nothing to the contrary.”

  “Yeah, he seemed like a great guy.” Moretti tucked the notepad away. “Any idea where he might go if he decided to drop everything?”

  “No idea.”

  “And you’re sure he didn’t have any problems? Work? Money? Family issues? Anything like that?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “That’s what we got,” Renner said.

  I almost smiled at his candidness. “Perhaps his assistant or one of his neighbors might be more helpful,” I suggested.

  “They weren’t,” Moretti said. “Knox kept to himself. No one knew much about him. We even canvassed the bars he went to and spoke to a few of his collector buddies. No one knows anything. We figured maybe he decided to follow the conventions.”

  “That sounds like him,” I said.

  Moretti nodded. “Well, anyway, we’ve done what we can. If you hear from him, let us know. And if you happen to stumble upon something that might tell us what happened, I’d like a call.” Again, Moretti handed me one of his business cards. “Did he ever pay you?”

  “What?”

  “We checked his bank statements but didn’t see any payments issued to you.”

  “No, I guess not. I’ll have to work on streamlining our billing process.”

  “Well, if you’re worried about getting paid, perhaps you’ll be able to track him down. Good luck.” Moretti got up, followed by Renner. “You know, there’s one thing that’s been bugging me.”

&nb
sp; “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Knox reported everything that had been stolen from his house in great detail, including a championship ring. When we searched his house for clues as to where he might be, we found the ring in his desk drawer.”

  “Odd,” I said.

  “Isn’t it?” Moretti asked. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

  Thirty-eight

  The police thought I was involved in Knox’s disappearance. That’s why they went to the bar and came by my office. They wanted to rattle me. Moretti brought up the ring, but I didn’t react. It meant nothing. But for the next few days, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was under surveillance.

  The cops didn’t tail me in blue and whites. They used surveillance vans, as if I wouldn’t notice. So I kept my head down and my nose to the grindstone. I had doctors’ appointments and meetings to fill the hours.

  When I wasn’t meeting with clients or having MRIs of my back or my nose reset, I had plenty to do for the impending move. Construction would finish on the new offices by next month. The basic bones and structure had been finished. Now they just had to set up the layout the way I wanted.

  I had to order equipment and hire movers and take care of a million little things. Keeping busy helped keep my mind off the blade swinging above my head. As each day passed, the chances of getting caught lessened. No one came for me. Maybe Knox had freaked and fled.

  With the constant police tail, my investigation into his disappearance had stalled. I didn’t know what was what. My gut said the police thought I’d eventually lead them to Knox. So far, I hadn’t, which is why they continued to linger like a bad cold. Eventually, they’d get tired and give up. I just had to be patient and stay focused on work.

  During a break between meetings, I found myself bored and studying a database on scuff marks. The ones I’d seen in Knox’s bedroom might not have been from the heels of his shoes. They could have been from wheels on a piece of luggage.