Dangerous Stakes

by G. K. Parks

He smirked. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He took some files out of the box and spread them out, flipping one open. “Duncan Crane used to date an exotic dancer.”

  My brow furrowed. “I’m getting the strangest sensation of déjà vu. Didn’t we already go over this?”

  “Yes, but I think Sasha’s our best bet.”

  “Unless Crane’s dead.” I rubbed my eyes. “A lot of people are turning up dead lately.”

  Logan ignored the commentary. “Sasha works in a mostly cash business.”

  “And we suspect she’s bankrolling Crane in order to keep him off our radar.”

  “Right, but that must mean they have to meet up at some point.”

  “That would make sense, except we’ve checked her apartment and the titty bar. No Crane. You even had the locals put her under surveillance, but you still didn’t come up with anything.”

  “Some of the dancers entertain at a fleabag motel near the interstate. The owner makes it a point not to pay attention to who comes and goes.”

  “Do you have any actual evidence, Mr. Assistant District Attorney?”

  “Johnny and I went on a little road trip. Thought we’d get the lay of the land.”

  “Or some other kind of lay,” I muttered.

  “I think Duncan’s there, but I don’t have much faith in the locals to locate him or bring him in. They don’t seem too interested in helping out.”

  “You do realize that’s out of my jurisdiction. Captain Grayson would have to get approval from local law enforcement to allow me to investigate and apprehend Crane.”

  “Well, the bench warrant is signed. So there is cause to bring him in.”

  “Y’know, there are other cops in this city besides me. You have investigators who work from this office. Why can’t you get one of them to do it?”

  “They think it’s a waste of time. They’ve been to the motel and the strip joint, but they never spotted Duncan, and Sasha claims she hasn’t seen him in months. Nothing in her financials suggest otherwise.”

  “But it’s a cash business,” I said, seeing where his thoughts were.

  “They’re going to half-ass it, and if Crane’s there, he’ll slip away. I need someone who’s going to take this seriously.”

  “I can’t go anywhere until I put a killer behind bars. Have you considered a private eye, bounty hunter, or a skip tracer? It’s a little unorthodox, but they have a vested interest in delivering.”

  “Just look through the data I’ve compiled in the last two days and let me know if it’s worth pursuing.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I took the offered file. Logan had taken dozens of surveillance photos at the motel and bar. He also ran the plates of every car in the parking lot. One of the rentals at the motel was registered to Sasha. “Y’know, if the lawyer thing doesn’t work out, you might have a career as a cop.”

  “What can I say? I’m a jack of all trades.”

  I reviewed his findings, but without any photographic proof or witness corroboration, I still had trouble believing Duncan Crane was alive and in hiding. And if he was in hiding and ADA Winters found him, that probably meant the men he was scheduled to testify against would find him too. This couldn’t wait, but if Winters rushed it, Crane might get tipped and disappear again.

  “When’s he due in court?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “You got everything prepped?”

  “Everything except my key witness.”

  “All right.” I thought for a moment. “You need a professional to handle this. You need proof Duncan’s there. Whoever you hire needs to maintain eyes on him and needs to make sure no one else is snooping around.”

  “I’ll find someone to sit on the motel, but what do I do once I get verification?”

  “We’ll get authorization to pick him up, and we’ll place him in protective custody until his court date. Depending on what he says, you might have to coordinate with the marshals.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  I gave Logan a suspicious look. “You didn’t need me for any of this. Why the insistence on my stopping by?”

  He began placing the files back in the box. “You told me to stick with the ex and to follow the money. I wanted to make sure I was doing it right.”

  That was a bullshit answer, but before I could call him out on it, our dinner arrived.

  Fifteen

  A few hours after the red blip vanished off the screen, the backup team was pulled off the apartment. For a moment, he allowed himself to relax. Even though Liv DeMarco no longer posed a threat, her brethren would be looking for answers. He couldn’t let his guard down. Not yet.

  The handcrafted device couldn’t be traced, not that they would even know what it was or how it worked. He doubted they recovered it. It was just more wreckage from the crash. He heard about the pile-up when he checked the traffic reports. The local papers plastered a photo of her crushed car on their websites as a breaking story. Although no fatalities were reported, she must be down for the count.

  The only thing he regretted was not getting to watch the mayhem. Cars fascinated him, whether they were racing or crashing. But wasn’t that what made NASCAR an American pastime?

  Burying the thoughts into the darker recesses of his mind, he tucked the gun at the small of his back and pulled his jacket over the top. He didn’t button his suit, knowing it would show the telltale bulge.

  “Evening, sir,” Rick greeted.

  He nodded in return and entered Spark. It was early. A few regulars chatted at the bar. He went to the end and ordered a drink. With the bartender occupied, he continued down the hall. The security cameras didn’t cover the rear hallway in order to maintain a separation between the club and the private back room.

  He went past the sealed door and stepped into the office. Not bothering to turn on the light, he removed the gun from behind his back, carefully wiped it, and placed it in the middle drawer. The police would never find it here.

  * * *

  “Thanks for the ride and dinner.”

  “Anytime, Detective.” Logan winked. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get verification.”

  “I agree the rental car in Sasha’s name appears hinky, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m still exploring other avenues to make sure the rest of the case is rock solid. But honestly, without Crane, it doesn’t look good.”

  “They might have already gotten to him,” I warned. “He might be dead. It’s been happening to a lot of people lately.”

  “Either way, I need to find him.”

  I stepped out of the car and went up the path to my parents’ house. Unlocking the front door, I entered the dark foyer and typed in the security code before the alarm sounded. My parents only set it when they went to bed, and since it was almost eleven, I figured they must have turned in early.

  Gunnie barked twice, alerting everyone to the intruder before bolting down the steps and sliding to a stop at my feet.

  “Shh,” I soothed, scratching behind his ears. He quieted and followed me into the kitchen.

  “He’s a shitty guard dog,” Dad said, startling me.

  “Shouldn’t you be holding a shotgun or something?” I asked. “What if I was a burglar or rapist?”

  “They don’t usually get dropped off by ADAs.”

  “You were spying on me?”

  “It’s not my fault the car set off the motion sensors and the outside lights.” He grinned. “Plus, it doesn’t matter how old you get. If a boy drops you off at home, I’m going to check him out.”

  “It was a work thing.”

  “Logan Winters is still a boy,” Dad insisted. He looked down at the dog. “You and I need to have a talk about your duties in this house. You’re expected to earn your keep.” Gunnie let out another bark and bumped the pantry with his nose. Dad handed him a treat and took a seat at the table across from me. “What happened to you? Did you try out for the mud wrestling team?”

  “I got into a fende
r bender.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Nothing serious.”

  He nodded. “Good. Did you file the proper paperwork?”

  I glared at him. Sometimes, he treated me like a sixteen year old. “Yes, Dad.”

  He held up his palms. “I was just making sure. You don’t want to get jammed up over something stupid.” He frowned. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Is everything okay, honey?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing sounds like guy problems or female problems. I’m not necessarily equipped to handle either, but I’ll give it a whirl if you want.”

  “It’s this case.”

  “Did Detective Harding follow through like he was supposed to?”

  I shouldn’t have asked for the favor. “Yeah, above and beyond, except my CI died due to her injuries. I’m not even sure it’s the same killer.”

  “Fill me in.”

  “Harding got a description of Becca’s killer, but it was too vague to be of any use. The man who attacked my CI wore a dark suit, white shirt, and black tie. The witness said he’s tall with dark hair, but she didn’t get a look at his face.”

  “Do the descriptions match?”

  I laughed bitterly. “Honestly, it sounds just like my prime suspect, but as usual, he has an alibi.”

  “And you can’t break it?”

  “It’s not that simple. The girl who saw him attack Becca was blitzed out of her mind. Harding said she won’t come forward, and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Unreliable witness. I’m guessing she’s in the business.”

  “Yeah.”

  Dad thought for a moment. “Any other way to get this guy? What about the cars? Only a handful of thieves know how to make custom imports vanish without a trace. Have you checked to see what crews are operating locally?”

  “As far as we can tell, no one local can pull off a job like that, except Axel Kincaid, but it’s not enough. I just had a long talk with ADA Winters, and we need more.”

  “Tell me what you got,” Dad insisted, so I told him about the missing cars, the tow truck driver, the hotel, and Axel Kincaid and his crew. “Sounds complicated and potentially dangerous. You have backup?”

  “Fennel’s doing everything he can through the official channels, and a team’s been sitting on my cover apartment, just to make sure everything remains copacetic. I’ll probably be wired tomorrow night when I meet with Kincaid. So we’re doing it by the book, but Kincaid’s extremely careful. Without his prints or evidence linking directly to him or Spark, we can’t get a judge to sign off on anything.”

  “And since half the judges are club members, it makes it even more complicated.” Dad licked his lips. “Grayson’s probably getting a lot of flak over this.”

  “He is, but we’re moving forward anyway. It started as a vice investigation which turned into a string of GTAs and now two homicides. It’s too big. It can’t be brushed under the rug. We have to shut it down.”

  “You will, but don’t rush it. You’re dealing with dangerous men. You can’t afford a misstep.”

  Gunnie let out a whimper and wagged his tail, bumping his nose against the cabinet again. I raised an eyebrow. “You hiding a dame in there?”

  “No, just his biscuits,” Mom said. She went to the cabinet and gave the dog a treat. “I thought I heard your voice.” She gave me a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Are you staying the night, sweetie?”

  “If that’s okay.”

  “It’s always okay.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did that happen? Or do I even want to know?”

  “Fender bender,” Dad said.

  “And you didn’t call to tell us.” Mom made a tsk noise. “Olive, we’re your parents. We need to know these things.” She gave me another hug. “I’ll go make up your bed.” She looked pointedly at the clock. “You need to get some rest. You look tired.”

  “In a few minutes,” Dad insisted.

  “Hold him to that,” she told me.

  “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  Sixteen

  I rested my forehead against the shower wall while the hot water cascaded down my back and relieved the tension in my muscles. I should turn the water off. The planet had enough problems without me wasting natural resources. But I didn’t move from that spot until the water ran cold.

  Reluctantly, I shut it off and reached for a towel. The smell of my father’s homemade sausage patties wafted through the vent and made my stomach growl. After dressing and drying my hair, I went down to the kitchen to find Brad helping himself to a heaping pile of scrambled eggs.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and reached for the coffeepot.

  “Picking up your sorry ass,” Brad teased. On second thought, he cast a quick glance at my father, wondering if my parents would think his comment was out of line. My partner cringed and gave me a worried look, but I laughed it off. My parents were used to a lot worse from my friends. “I got you something. It’s in the car.”

  “Ooh, a present.” I grabbed a plate and loaded it up with eggs, sausage, and fresh fruit. “Is it Spark’s client list?”

  “No, that’s at the station. The captain already assigned a team to go through Kincaid’s records.” Brad put the fork down and reached for the plate of sausage. He took one, cut it in half, and slipped a piece to Gunnie. “At least Winters came through.”

  “He said he would.”

  “But he’s a lawyer,” Brad said around a mouthful. “They lie for a living.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Liv,” Brad said in an all too familiar tone, and I gave him a sharp look.

  His tone set off my mom’s radar or killer instincts since she appeared from out of nowhere and joined us at the table. “Is everything okay, sweetie?”

  “Yeah. We just have a long day ahead of us. And a long night. We should probably get going. Brad’s sorry for eating you out of house and home and interrupting your morning routine.”

  “Nonsense.” Mom beamed at my partner. “You’re welcome here anytime, Bradley. And don’t forget about dinner.”

  “No, ma’am.” Brad swallowed a final bite and brought his plate to the sink. He rinsed it, loaded it into the dishwasher, and offered his hand to my father. “Thanks for breakfast, Captain DeMarco.”

  Dad shook his hand. “It’s Vince.”

  “Yes, sir.” Brad looked absolutely starstruck. “Vince.”

  I looked at my mom and rolled my eyes. Men, I mouthed. She laughed and told us to have a nice day. I grabbed my bag, said goodbye to my dad, gave Gunnie a final scratch behind the ears, and met Brad at the car.

  “So what did you get me?” I asked. He reached into the back seat and handed me a paper bag. “A new cell phone.”

  “It’s just a burner. I already activated it. You’re gonna need it, especially since you’re going to be alone with Kincaid. I had your number transferred, so you’re good to go.”

  I dug through the bag, finding something else. “You bought me chocolate.”

  “Don’t start.”

  I held up the treat. “But you did.”

  “I had to stop at three places just to find your damn organic chocolate. You better be worth it.”

  Even though we just finished breakfast, I unwrapped the bar and broke off a square and gave it to him. “Thanks.”

  “It’s our ritual. I can’t let you risk your life on an op without getting you a treat.”

  I swallowed, folding the wrapper over the candy bar and tucking it into my purse. “You think Kincaid is going to try to kill me?”

  “He might have already tried once.” He watched me from the corner of his eye. “Mac and a few of the crime techs examined the device found at the scene of the accident. They think it’s what caused your car to stall.”

  “Do you think Kincaid planted it?”

&nbs
p; “We have no way of knowing who, but someone put it there.”

  “And Axel dropped by my apartment the other day.” I stared out the windshield. “Does the captain know I’m blown?”

  “We don’t know—”

  “Yes, we do. This asshole sent us a warning, but we didn’t listen. So he came for me. He’s getting more brazen.”

  Fennel turned to look at me. “Say the word and we’ll pull the plug. We’ll find another way of getting this guy.”

  “No. Axel has something planned for me tonight. I want to find out what it is.”

  “Fine, but you’re wearing a wire. Backup teams will maintain eyes on you. I will be with them. Just utter the safe word, and I will bust in and beat his ass.” Fennel maneuvered into a reserved space at the hotel and cut the engine. “Since Kincaid’s lawyer has positioned himself at the precinct, this is our staging ground.”

  We entered and returned to the suite. Several members of our unit were set up inside. Captain Grayson convinced Mr. Hart to come back for a follow-up interview in the hopes of getting his prints. It wouldn’t be too hard to dust the coffee cup or water bottle after the man left. And it would be easier than trying to force him to comply.

  The hotel cameras proved useless. According to the footage, no unauthorized personnel accessed any restricted parts of the hotel. Of course, it was possible someone had dressed like hotel staff to avoid being noticed or simply maneuvered through the blind spots, but conjecture and speculation wouldn’t get us anywhere.

  Despite our best efforts, we still hadn’t identified the tow truck driver either. By the time the department sent someone else to speak to the tattoo artist, the shop was closed. We had an all-points out on the tow truck. A patrol unit thought they spotted it early this morning, but it was a false alarm.

  “Hey, did Fennel tell you?” Mac asked as soon as she entered the hotel room.

  “Tell me what?” I glanced at my partner who was leaning over a workstation and staring at the hotel lobby feed from the day of the shooting.

  “We have a mock-up of the tow truck driver’s tattoo.” She rifled through a folder and pulled out a printout. “It’s a grim reaper holding an upside-down scythe.”