Her Winter of Darkness

by Melinda Woodhall

  “It’s no big deal,” the glassy-eyed girl said, still clutching the baggie in her hand. “And they’ll give you all the pills you want.”

  Plucking her backpack from her hands, the man shoved her inside and slammed the door shut. Then the SUV was rolling away from the bus station, heading out of Tampa and onto the highway. Ruby watched the signs blur past until the vehicle finally veered off the exit ramp onto Highway 42.

  They’d just passed a sign welcoming them to Willow Bay, when the SUV swung into a narrow turn-off, hidden by overhanging trees. Branches scraped along the side of the vehicle as it bumped along an unpaved road, finally exiting into a clearing. The driver stopped to wait as a big gate swung open, and then nosed the SUV through and jerked to a stop.

  Climbing out of the SUV, the driver opened Ruby’s door and motioned for her to get out. She stepped out onto hard-packed dirt and gazed around at the big fence topped with barbed-wire, suddenly scared that the men were actually cops, and that she’d been taken to some kind of backwoods jail.

  The fence surrounded a collection of long, low buildings, which appeared to have been faded by years of baking in the Florida sun. Thinking the place looked like it had once been some kind of prison or military compound, Ruby was led to a building near the back of the property.

  A heavyset man sat next to the entrance in a wooden chair smoking a cigarette. He wore jeans and a black jacket; a shotgun was propped against the wall next to him.

  “What’s your name?” the man muttered, looking her up and down with greedy eyes. “You from around here?’

  “We picked her up at the bus station on our way back,” the driver of the SUV said, before she could answer. “She was looking for pills.”

  The man held up her backpack and pulled out her wallet, removing her driver’s license from the little plastic pocket in the front.

  “Her name’s Ruby Chase, and she’s from Daytona.”

  Reaching for her bag, Ruby felt an iron fist grab her wrist.

  “Whoa there, Ruby,” the man said, amused. “No need to be rude. We’re not going to hurt you. You treat us right and we’ll treat you right.”

  The man in the chair rose and picked up the shotgun just as the door beside him opened. A girl appeared holding two thick bags of white powder. Her eyes weren’t as glassy as the girl at the bus station, but she looked at Ruby with disinterest as she slipped past, as if she were used to seeing women held at gunpoint.

  “Go on in,” the man with the gun said to Ruby. “I think it’s time we all get better acquainted.”

  Her mind rebelled at the memories beyond that door. That was the stuff of her nightmares, and the images that haunted her. She could never go home now, never face her father and her little brother again.

  Forcing her thoughts back into Reggie’s office, Ruby wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  “The girl I met was working with a group of men. They used my pills to…to get me to work for them, too. They wouldn’t let me leave.”

  Reggie nodded, as if she understood.

  “Do you know who these men were?”

  “All I know is that they worked for a man called Diablo. His men used the women they picked up to sell drugs and make deliveries. They threatened me and said if I told anyone…”

  A sudden movement in the parking lot caught Ruby’s eye. A black car had pulled in. Could it be Diablo, or one of his men? Had Reggie called them and told them she was there?

  Her heart thudded in her chest as she stared out the window. But then an elderly woman stepped out of the black car and began to walk toward the building. It wasn’t someone coming for her; she was safe.

  “Are you okay, Ruby? Is there something out there?”

  Reggie leaned forward to look out the window.

  “No, there’s nothing,” Ruby said, swallowing back words about the man she’d seen before.

  Maybe that had just been my imagination, too. Maybe the withdrawal is making me see things. Maybe I’m going crazy.

  Trying to pay attention to Reggie’s calm voice, Ruby forced herself to turn away from the window.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Reggie said softly. “But you’re here now, and if you complete the program, you have a good chance of staying clean, and of going back home.”

  Ruby wished the words were true. But there was no way she could run back to her father. Not while Diablo and his men were still out there looking for her.

  If they were to track her down and find out about her father and Rory, they’d used them to threaten her, like they did with the other girls. She’d known better than to let the men find her true weakness.

  If they don’t know about my family, they can’t use them to control me.

  “I need to make a phone call,” Ruby said. “I want to call home.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” Reggie’s face lit up. “We usually ask residents to use the phone in the rec room, but this time I’ll let you use mine.”

  The counselor stood up and motioned to the phone on her desk.

  “I’ll give you some privacy,” she said, heading toward the door.

  Once the door had closed behind Reggie’s small figure, Ruby took out the card Detective Bell gave her and picked up the handset. When the call went to voicemail, Ruby was tempted to hang up. She hesitated, then stuttered out a hurried message.

  “Detective Bell, this is…this is Ruby. Ruby Chase. I just wanted to ask you something. I guess I’ll try back later.”

  Dropping the handset back on the base, Ruby crossed to the door and stepped out into the hall. She felt too jumpy and nervous to go back to the solitude of her room. The sound of the television led her to the rec room, where several women were watching the local news.

  Veronica Lee was on the screen. Ruby recognized the reporter’s red coat; it was the same one she’d worn the other day. She stepped closer to hear what Veronica was saying.

  “A woman’s body has been discovered at Old Willow Square today,” Veronica said, her eyes grave as she looked into the camera. “The police are calling the death a homicide, but they have no suspects in custody at this time.”

  Ruby’s pulse raced as she listened to the rest of the report.

  A woman was dumped in the park and the cops have no clue who did it.

  Her mind flashed back to the big man outside Reggie’s window. What if Diablo’s men knew she was there? Would they try to kill her?

  Maybe I should call Detective Bell again. Maybe she can protect me.

  But the girls at Diablo’s compound swore that Diablo had connections everywhere, even in the police department.

  What if she brings that nasty Detective Ingram with her?

  Worries that the cops would lock her up, or maybe even turn her over to Diablo’s men, began to take shape in her mind. Detective Bell knew where she was, and she and her partner could come for her at any minute. Once she was in custody, she’d be at their mercy with no one to help her. She could trust no one.

  Then a face flashed through her mind.

  The man with Detective Bell said he would help me, and I believed him.

  A commercial interrupted the news report, and Ruby turned and hurried back to her room. She once again pulled out the card Detective Bell had given her. This time she turned it over and looked at the name she’d written across the back.

  Frankie Dawson, Private Investigator.

  Grabbing her jacket, Ruby headed toward the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pulling his hoodie tighter around him, Frankie sat back on Little Ray’s sagging couch and watched the big man reach for another cigarette. The old double-wide trailer had no heater, and the chilly air from outside seeped under the door and through the cracked window.

  “You do know smoking can kill you, right?”

  Frankie glared at the cigarette in Ray’s chubby hand.

  “You’re just mad cause you want one.” Ray chuckled as he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. “N
ow what the hell did you want to talk about? I gotta get to work.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, Frankie felt around for a stick of gum. Pulling off the silver wrapper, he stuck it in his mouth and began to chew as Ray exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

  “I’ve been hearing talk on the street about some dude named Diablo,” Frankie said, trying to sound casual. “You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

  Ray threw back his massive head and laughed, jiggling cigarette ashes onto the grayish carpet.

  “Diablo?” Ray ran his fingers through his beard and shook his head. “Shit, I haven’t heard that name in a while, man.”

  “But you have heard it?”

  Nodding his head as he took another drag, Ray grinned.

  “That’s just some bullshit name people throw around to try to scare each other. And whenever the cops picked us up and asked if we knew who’d done something, we always said it was Diablo.”

  Ray wiggled his plump fingers in the air and widened his eyes.

  “The dude was like some boogeyman, or something.”

  His words echoed what Ingram had told Peyton earlier, and Frankie felt a shiver along his spine.

  “So, you don’t think this guy is real then?” Frankie narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t heard a new group’s running drugs around here?”

  A frown replaced Ray’s smile.

  “You know I don’t get involved with that shit anymore. I’ve been keeping my hands clean. Have been since I got out of the joint.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Frankie studied the big man’s face.

  “Just because you’re clean, doesn’t mean you don’t know what’s going on, man. You have friends. I’m sure they talk.”

  Ray hoisted himself off the couch and hitched up his pants. He looked down at Frankie, all hint of amusement gone.

  “I don’t want any trouble, Frankie,” he said, hooking his keys off the counter. “I’m doing pretty good. I’ve only got twelve more payments on this place and it’s mine. And my Chevy’s all paid off.”

  He turned off the lights and opened the front door.

  “Now, come on, I’ll give you a ride back to town.”

  Climbing into the little Chevy pick-up truck, Frankie chewed nervously on his gum, wondering what the big man wasn’t saying.

  He’d met Little Ray in prison a decade earlier. Frankie had been wrongly convicted of armed robbery, and Ray had been caught with enough weed to start a small bonfire. Realizing they’d lived in the same small town, the men had started an unlikely friendship, and had stayed in touch after Frankie’s sentence had been overturned.

  Frankie was sure Ray still had plenty of connections, even if he had gone straight years before. If somebody new was dealing drugs in or around Willow Bay, Little Ray would know about it.

  They’d just pulled out onto Old Shepard Highway heading west when Ray spoke again.

  “Why are you so interested in some lowlife pushers anyway?”

  Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Frankie shrugged.

  “A friend of mine had a run in with these scumbags. They seem like real bad news. I thought you’d point me in the right direction.”

  “And then what? You get your skinny ass killed?”

  Little Ray’s hands gripped the Chevy’s steering wheel, and Frankie heard something in his voice he’d never heard before.

  “You’re scared of these guys, aren’t you?”

  “Fuck no, I’m not scared,” Ray sputtered. “At least not for myself. But you’re in no shape to go up against these guys.”

  He glanced in his rearview mirror, as if Diablo or his men might be tailing them, then looked over at Frankie.

  “I thought that shit about him calling himself Diablo was a joke,” Ray said. “But maybe that’s just a way for him to stay under the radar. Whatever he’s calling himself, I’ve heard the dude is crazy.”

  “Heard from who?”

  Frankie saw the turnoff toward downtown coming up. He wanted an answer from Ray before it was too late.

  “Come on, man, who told you about this guy?”

  Stopping at a red light, Ray turned to Frankie and shook his head.

  “I’m not a damn snitch, Frankie, you know that.”

  The light turned green and Ray floored the little pick-up. He took a right onto Waterside Drive, and then a left onto Bay Street, bringing the Chevy to a stop in front of Barker and Dawson Investigations.

  “There was a group in Miami that got busted last year,” Ray said, not looking at Frankie. “They ran drugs, women, maybe even guns. The feds took them down. The big shots got hard time, but some of the grunts are already back on the street.”

  “Our streets?” Frankie asked. “These grunts are around here?”

  Ray shrugged.

  “I ran into a buddy from the joint a few weeks back. Said he’d come here after the bust went down in Miami. He didn’t mention the name Diablo. Just said he’s still in the game and business is booming. Oh, and he said the guy he works for is a real psycho.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Frankie dropped into the chair in front of his desk just as his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart sank when he saw the number.

  “Hey, Reggie, what’s up?”

  “Ruby Chase is gone. She’s not in her room, and we can’t find her anywhere in the building. I just thought you’d want to know.”

  Reggie sounded upset.

  “I don’t have any other contact info for her, and since you were the one that arranged for her to come here…”

  “Yeah, I’m glad you called me, Reggie,” Frankie said, trying not to let her hear the disappointment in his voice. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Ending the call, Frankie held the phone in his hand, tempted to call Peyton Bell. The detective would want to know that Ruby had left Hope House before finishing the program.

  But the remembered sting of Peyton’s words stopped him. She’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome poking his nose into her investigation. She’d said the task force was working on it.

  So, who am I to butt in and tell the task force anything now?

  Switching on his computer, Frankie opened his time log and began entering in the hours he’d spent tailing Garth Bixby. The campaign manager had spent most of the day at City Hall, other than the hour or so he’d spent at Old Willow Square.

  Unable to bear another afternoon twiddling his thumbs outside Bixby’s office, Frankie had made an executive decision to visit Little Ray before Bixby left for the day.

  Frankie checked his watch, calculating he should have another hour before Bixby left the office. He was sure he hadn’t missed anything important and was in no hurry to return.

  As long as I’m outside City Hall in time to tail the cheating bastard on the way home, no one else has to know a damn thing.

  Closing out the spreadsheet, Frankie wondered where Ruby Chase could have gone. Did she have a family to go back to? Was there someone out there looking for her?

  He opened a web browser, navigating to the usual missing person web sites, and searched for someone meeting Ruby Chase’s description. After ten minutes he had to admit there didn’t appear to be anyone looking for Ruby Chase.

  Once he closed the browser, Frankie stared at the desktop, wondering what to try next. His eyes fell on the Facebook icon, and he clicked on it, searching for the group page that posted notices from families desperate to find a missing child, or parent, or sibling.

  I wish they’d had this when I was out looking for Franny.

  Frankie had spent countless nights searching for Franny. Facebook hadn’t been an option back then, and he remembered roaming the streets of Memphis looking for his little sister. That last night had been the worst night of his life.

  Maybe someone out there is looking for Ruby. Maybe that person is just as desperate as I used to be when Franny would go missing.

  Scrolling through the photos and messages on the page, Frankie didn’t notice Barker until he
was standing in front of him.

  “Mrs. Bixby wanted to come by and pick up our invoice,” Barker said between gritted teeth. “We didn’t think you’d be here.”

  Barbie Bixby stared at Frankie’s screen. He saw the sides of her mouth turn down, but her forehead didn’t crease into a frown.

  Looks like the Botox is working as promised.

  Turning away from the screen, Frankie smiled up at Barbie, trying to think up a plausible excuse for his presence in the office rather than outside City Hall, but he drew a total blank.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be tailing my husband?”

  Barbie put both hands on her narrow hips and raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. Her disapproving stance reminded Frankie of his mother, but he decided against sharing that observation with her.

  “Or am I paying you to surf the internet, now?”

  Frankie thrust a nervous hand into the pocket of his hoodie, feeling around for a piece of gum, but came up empty. He stuck his other hand in his pants pocket, finding only his phone.

  Pulling the phone out with a flourish, Frankie held it up in the air.

  “I came back here to download the pics and video I’d taken. Got so much stuff my storage was full.” He leaned back in the chair and smiled. “I figured I could be back outside City Hall by closing time.”

  He followed Barbie’s skeptical gaze to his computer, the Facebook logo clearly visible on the big screen.

  “I was just checking to see if your hubby has been posting anything online that we should be aware of. You’d be surprised how many people are caught cheating by something they post online.”

  “I’ve been married three times,” Barbie replied with a sigh, tucking a glossy strand of honey blonde hair behind a delicate ear. “Nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to liars and cheats.”

  A flush of guilt colored Frankie’s cheeks as he realized he was one of the liars Barbie was talking about. The poor woman might be a bit hard around the edges, but she hadn’t gotten that way without help from men like Garth Bixby.

  And like me.

  Turning her back on Frankie, Barbie crossed to Barker’s desk and waited while he printed out the latest invoice for their services. She didn’t stop to review the charges, just stuck the paper into her designer handbag and headed toward the door.