‘Whatever—’
With an awful premonition Evan knew he was about to ask about Sarah. He leapt from his seat, crossed the room in a couple of quick strides and frogmarched Jesse out into the hallway, slapping him enthusiastically on the back as they went, dislodging his sunglasses from where they perched on his head.
‘It was great to see you, Jesse, we should have a beer sometime. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.’
He jabbed at the button for the elevator. While Jesse picked up his shades, he dashed back into his office and closed the door firmly behind him. Jesse never got a chance to say what was on his mind—even if the damage had already been done.
***
EVAN STOOD AT THE open window, hands stuffed into his pockets and breathed in the clean, fresh air, sucking it all the way down into the bottom of his lungs. He tried to clear his mind as he watched Jesse get into his fancy car and drive off. But his fingers brushed the smooth, worn metal of his Zippo lighter—the one he’d found half-buried in the basement of a farmhouse owned by Carl Hendricks, a lowlife degenerate he helped put behind bars for the rest of his unnatural life. A cold shiver ran through him at the thought of how close he’d come to meeting his maker, a solitary, drawn-out death in that filthy basement. He pulled the lighter out, ran his thumb over the inscription.
We the unwilling
Led by the unqualified
To kill the unfortunate
Die for the ungrateful
He knew the words by heart now, they’d become a mantra for him. It was a popular verse, engraved on hundreds, if not thousands, of lighters just like it. And there were other, similar verses—same sentiments, slightly different words. They were collectors’ items, that was all, everybody knew that.
But it didn’t matter what he thought in the cold, rational light of day. It didn’t stop his mind from driving him crazy in the small hours of the morning when all your doubts and fears come calling. Was it the same one?
And the one person who could have helped him, helped put a stop to the endless what ifs and maybes, had died two years ago, their relationship never patched up after Sarah’s disappearance. Despite what they’d said, that they didn’t blame him, they did.
One of these days he’d visit Hendricks in prison and ask him about it. Not that he expected any joy there either. Hendricks would never tell him the truth. He needed to stop carrying the damn thing around with him everywhere, but it had become a ritual, as automatic as putting on his watch in the morning.
And he sure as hell didn’t want to rake it all up with someone like Jesse, making things a hundred times worse with his well-intentioned comments about loss and closure.
Chapter 4
EVAN WENT DOWNSTAIRS TO see Tom Jacobson who ran a dental practice from the office below. He was busy at his desk and spun round in his chair when Evan walked in.
‘I want to ask you about date rape drugs,’ Evan said, sitting on the edge of the desk.
‘You mean how do they work, or can I get you some?’
‘Maybe both—if the price is right.’
Jacobson laughed. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Evan told him about Jesse’s problem and how he thought he’d been drugged.
Jacobson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you’d given up all that seedy work, catching people in flagrante delicto. You know what that means?’
‘I do and I have. This is different’—Jacobson gave him a look that said he’d heard it all before—‘I’m trying to prove the guy didn’t do it. Or at least that he wasn’t aware he was doing it.’
‘Do you believe him?’
Evan hesitated a moment. That was the question. He stood up and wandered over to the window. He had a better view from his, even though Jacobson owned the building.
‘I think so,’ he said slowly.
‘But you’re not one hundred percent?’
‘No. That’s why I want to find out if it’s at least possible. Before I spend any time on it.’
Jacobson nodded. ‘It’s definitely possible. Do you know anything about date rape drugs at all?’
‘Never had cause to.’
Jacobson leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘There are three main ones - Rohypnol, GHB and Ketamine. From what you’ve told me I’d say Ketamine was your best bet. You might have heard of it being called Special K.’
Evan shook his head. ‘Never buy it. I’m a cheerios man myself.’
‘That would explain a lot. Anyway, this particular Special K is a dissociative anesthetic.’
As always with Jacobson, Evan got the impression he’d taken the wrong turn and inadvertently wandered into a Mensa meeting.
‘Meaning what?’
‘It’s a type of hallucinogen.’ He turned back to his computer and did a quick search. ‘Here we go, the state it induces is defined as a trancelike cataleptic state characterized by profound analgesia and amnesia ...’
The dry medical description floated over Evan until the last word. ‘Did you say amnesia?’
‘That’s what it says here. That’s why people use it for date rape.’
‘So, it’s definitely possible he’s telling the truth. What was the other word? Cata ...’
‘Cataleptic. It means a lack of response to external stimuli coupled with muscular rigidity—basically the person’s limbs stay in whatever positions you put them in. Turns you into a giant kid’s doll.’
Evan nodded. It was all coming together now. ‘Which means someone could be posed while they were under the influence and not remember any of it.’
‘In theory, yes.’
‘But doesn’t it make it difficult for them to walk? They were in a public place after all. They couldn’t just pick him up and throw him over their shoulders.’
Jacobson thought for a second. ‘I don’t want you to think I know too much about it, but I think they give them other drugs as well—cocaine probably. And if you’re in a club and the person stumbles or walks a bit woodenly everyone just assumes they’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Presumably you just slip it into their drink?’
‘Yes. And it’s very fast-acting. You might be aware of what’s happening at first, but you can’t move. Then the amnesia kicks in later.’
‘Jesus.’ Evan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe this stuff exists. It must have been developed by a serial rapist. Is it easy to get hold of?’
‘It is if you’re a vet. It’s mostly used on animals. Particularly horses.’
The mention of horses set off a vague memory in Evan’s mind but he couldn’t pin it down. It probably wasn’t important. ‘I remember reading about it now—people break into veterinary clinics and steal the stuff.’
Jacobson nodded, then turned back to his screen and carried on reading. ‘There’s a long list of side effects. I’ll send you the link. You might want to ask your client if he suffered from any of them.’
‘I’ll ask him but I think he’s more concerned about the effect on his wallet than on his body. And if he can’t keep the lid on this, his wife will cause him more harm than any drugs ever could.’
Chapter 5
JESSE CUT THE CALL and sat resting his head in his hands. He massaged his forehead with his fingertips, trying to smooth away some of the tension. Fat chance. The last thing he needed was Evan asking him a bunch of questions about side effects—how the hell was he supposed to remember, that was the whole problem.
That wasn’t all. What he hadn’t told Evan either on the phone or when they met was what had happened after he got home from pretending to go to work. There was a point in Evan’s office and in the phone conversation when he’d almost come out with it, but then decided against it. He didn’t really know why and Evan didn’t need to know anyway.
Diane had been in the kitchen, all dressed up and ready to go when he got back. She looked amazing, leaning her trim backside against the kitchen cabinet with her ankles crossed, leafing through a glossy magazine. Most l
ikely Divorce Monthly.
He’d gone over and pecked her on the cheek, trying to see if the corner of the photograph he’d dropped was still poking out from under the cabinet. He couldn’t see it. Maybe it had been behind her feet. Perhaps she’d inadvertently kicked it back under without noticing. She put the magazine down and crossed the room to pick up her handbag. Jesse glanced down quickly again but still couldn’t see anything.
Not quick enough though—she’d noticed him looking.
‘Have you lost something?’
Was that a hint of a smile on her lips?
‘No.’
He did his best to smile, willing it into his eyes, feeling them widen in their sockets.
‘Are you sure? You keep looking down at the floor.’ She made a point of looking down too.
‘It’s nothing, really.’ He heard the strain in his own voice. ‘Shall we go?’
Jesse had then spent the next two hours eating the most expensive cardboard on the planet. At least that’s what it tasted like to him. Diane excelled herself, searching out the most expensive dishes on the menu and eating them with such enthusiasm he thought she’d found somebody else’s appetite. She normally picked at her food like an anorexic sparrow. They’d shared a bottle of wine that tasted like sea slug and mouse fur with an aluminum foil finish and a lingering oily clinginess, served up by the most pretentious sommelier Jesse had ever come across. He’d wanted to punch the sycophant, who kept calling him mon-sewer with the emphasis firmly on the sewer.
Diane had drunk most of the bottle herself and had become all giggly which wasn’t like her at all. He’d been so preoccupied when he got home he hadn’t noticed if she’d already had a drink while she was waiting for him. She’d spent the whole meal leaning forward across the table giving him a perfect view down her blouse.
Despite all of that, he couldn’t think of anything apart from getting back home and having a proper look under the cabinet. And hopefully finding the photograph somehow kicked to the back out of sight.
Diane was drunk when they got back home and went straight to bed. Almost immediately he heard her snores drifting down from the bedroom. He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the cabinet.
Shit.
There was an old roach motel—roaches check in, but they don’t check out!—lots of dust and hairballs, but no photograph. He slumped down with his back against the cabinet and ran his fingers through his hair. Where the hell was it? Had Diane found it? Surely, she would have said something. How could she have eaten a lunch like that if she’d just found a photograph of her husband having sex with another woman? On their anniversary too.
Maybe she decided not to say anything until she’d spoken to a lawyer. A ball-breaking, man-hating, bitch of a lawyer. Her friend Jo fitted the bill perfectly. He got up and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, dug her phone out of her bag and went through the call list. Nothing. But it didn’t make the lump in his throat or the knot in his stomach go away.
Diane hadn’t got up again until the following day. She’d been bright and breezy, like everything was back to normal. Which it was on the surface. Under the surface was a different matter as far as Jesse was concerned. The not knowing was driving him crazy. It was eating him up. He couldn’t sit around and wait for Evan, he was going to have to do something himself as well.
That meant another trip to Louisville.
Chapter 6
IT WAS TIME TO go to the police.
Gina thought the difficult decisions were over when she decided to take her clothes off for money. But at least if she went to the police they could do what they wanted with it and her conscience would be clear. And if she lost her job as a result she’d deal with that when it happened.
She was put through to a detective called Angel. She didn’t know if that was his first or last name but he sounded nice on the phone. His voice was friendly and reassuring and he sounded like he was taking her seriously. However, if she thought she was going to get away with a quick phone call to achieve the catharsis she was looking for she was mistaken. He wanted her to come in to see him, but agreed to meet her in a diner they both knew when she point blank refused.
She got there early and picked a table in the window so she could watch him arrive. It was a pretty stupid thing to do since she didn’t know what he looked like and anyway what was she going to do—run away now she’d got this far? She was watching the street intently when a voice at her shoulder made her jump and spill her coffee.
‘Miss Morgan?’
Damn, there must be another entrance. How did he know it was her anyway? She looked round the diner—they were the only two in there and he was a detective after all. A good looking one too. Maybe she’d invent a few more suspicions to call the police about. He was tall and athletic looking with longish dark hair combed back. He skin was tanned and he needed to stand a little closer to the razor in the mornings but she liked that look. His dark eyes never left hers as he slid into the seat opposite her. She shifted self-consciously in her chair.
Was he making a professional or a personal assessment?
She took a paper napkin out of the holder and wiped the spilled coffee. ‘Detective Angel?’
He nodded. ‘Just call me Angel. Everyone else does.’
‘Is that your first or last name?’
He smiled. His teeth were slightly crooked which just seemed to give his face more character. ‘First.’
‘I’m Gina.’ She almost added, ‘And I’m thirteen years old,’ because that’s what he made her feel like.
‘Pleased to meet you, Gina.’
He held out his hand. His grip was firm and dry. Firm and dry was good, limp and sweaty made her skin crawl.
He hadn’t ordered but the waitress brought him a coffee, and then said something to him in Spanish. He shrugged and she winked at him before walking away. She was old enough to be his mother for Christ’s sake.
Gina raised her eyebrows when he looked back at her, the light in his eyes more intense than before.
‘She’s a friend of my mother’s.’
‘Really? What did she say?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ He pulled out a battered notebook. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you wanted to talk about?’
She turned to look at the waitress who was still watching them, smiling. ‘Tell me what she said first, then we’ll get onto that.’
He ran his hand through his hair. She couldn’t believe it. His cheeks had a faint flush. He was embarrassed. The big, tough detective was embarrassed. She’d probably told him not to be late for dinner.
‘You don’t want to know.’
She was glad she’d met him now. They couldn’t have had fun like this on the phone. She leaned towards him.
‘Yes, I do.’
He looked at her, his expression saying okay you asked for it. ‘She said she hoped this wasn’t work related.’
Now it was her turn to blush. She took a sip of cold coffee to avoid meeting his eyes, almost choked on it, pushed the cup away. She knew he was still grinning, felt his eyes shining. She’d pushed him and he was having the last laugh.
‘Old people are so embarrassing, aren’t they?’ he said, letting her off the hook. ‘Always trying to marry you off.’
She couldn’t stop herself glancing at his hand. No ring, although that didn’t prove a thing. He caught her looking, flexed his fingers.
‘Anyway, it’s your own fault for choosing this place,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t have happened down at the station.’
He’d seen her push her coffee cup away, so he called the waitress over again and said something to her in Spanish.
Gina shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t understand. The waitress was smiling and nodding and looking at her as if Angel was explaining to her they’d just got engaged and could she make a start on the arrangements for the party.
‘What was that all about?’
‘I told her this is most de
finitely work so don’t bother calling my mother. False alert. Also, we need two more coffees and none of the cheap stuff this time.’
Gina smiled again but that wasn’t how she felt inside. The pleasant flutter in her stomach had at first been replaced by a hollow emptiness at the false alert, and had now given way completely to a sense of dread.
It had suddenly clicked in her mind that any minute now she was going to have to admit to this good-looking man what she did for a living. It was bad enough that she couldn’t have done it over the phone, but couldn’t he have at least been fat or old or ugly or preferably all three. Two minutes ago, they’d been flirting—that was the only word for it—and now she was going to tell him something that would extinguish the sparkle in his eyes in an instant. She’d get the same effect if she poked him in the eye with a fork.
She excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. If there had been another way out back there she’d have taken it. She looked at the window but it had a metal grill screwed to the wall over it and she’d forgotten to put her screwdriver in her handbag when she left the house that morning.
She rested her hands on the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. In five minutes’ time she’d look exactly the same but he’d see somebody very different. Somebody he definitely wouldn’t want to take home to his mother. After all, nobody’s mother wants their son dating a stripper—one small step up from a whore.
Time to get it over with.
She took a couple of deep breaths and headed back into the diner. Her mouth was dry, her heart beating faster than the first time she’d got up on stage. It was ridiculous. Except it wasn’t ridiculous, because in the space of meeting him for five minutes she cared what he thought about her. It had never happened before.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it took a moment for her to realize the booth was empty. He’d gone. She looked all around but the diner was empty. Maybe he’d gone to the men’s room. She sat back down and the waitress came over.
The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets) Page 26